OK, OK, I know, it's unfair but I just can't help it.
There's something about Antonia Byatt's physical
presence that brings me out in hives. All I can ever
see is the costive expression of a woman gasping
for air, having stuffed herself to the gills with large
cream buns.
Her prose strikes me as just as fatally loaded with
uncooked dough. All those pages, all that unrelenting
detail, all those literary allusions, all that ponderous
intellectual preening ....
The feud with her sister, Margaret Drabble, has long
been the gossip of the London salons. I never had
any problem knowing which side I was on.
Sorry.
Scottie B.
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Received on Tue May 27 14:27:45 2003
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