Through the letter box just now came the annual catalogue Ways with
Words sends me about the July Lit fest at Dartington. Always a
depressing experience that brings home to me just how isolated I am
from that literary world. Here I am, a poet, spent most of my life
writing and being awed by reading others' stuff. I have quite a few
other interests too and consider myself to be not too unintelligent.
My enthusiasms keep me reasonably up to date both with both high and
popular culture - yet here is this very crowded and rich list of
events and readings from the world of contemporary British arts and
literature, and there isn't one thing I want to go and see. Good job
the World Cup will be on at the same time.
Am I wrong in thinking there is something wrong here somewhere?
Tim A.
|