“. . .but surely there was a certain level of achievement, a gold standard that was nonnegotiable, beyond mere opinion.” – Ian McEwan, Amsterdam.
I’m curating my My Documents folder, looking for poems that aren’t in the folder my poems are in. So, all suspiciously named files are opened, this one was called “2..doc”.
I realize why I copied it out. It’s a very fascinating wonder, no? Because, without it, and possibly a yes answer to it, nothing would have value. Right?
Oya o, back to work.
BTW, Amsterdam is a lovely story. It won the Booker years back. Rivalry between friends. I often mix McEwan titles with Julian Barnes’. Barnes is a finer writer, in terms of style. Personal opinion.