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Julian Barnes, one of my favourite writers, poses the question – “is art a depiction of reality, a concentration of it, a superior substitute for it, or just a beguiling irrelevance?” (excerpt from the novel, […]
A. S. Byatt’s last book of short stories, Medusa’s Ankles, was a joy to read after having waded through a slew of glib novels by young writers seeking to push the boundaries of the form […]