Tim,
You have the advantage of me in that I must rely
on my memory of something seen two (?) years ago,
& maybe longer. And that memory is of feeling more kindly
disposed than you evidently were.
For Pete's sake, this was aimed at a non-specialist audience -
people, believe it or not, who in England at least, had probably
only the haziest idea who JDS might be. When in this wide world
did television or the cinema ever produce a version or an account
that satisfied the purist devotees of any writer?
He's neither the Lord Jesus nor the Lord Buddha but
a professional entertainer & spinner of yarns who writes
repeatedly about primary school girls; who has in reality shacked up
with a succession of several young enough to be his granddaughter;
& who cultivates the most ostentatious & marketable reclusivity
since Greta Garbo.
Why WOULDN'T they mention those same pre-Lolitas?
They are, after all, the tiny bones that stick most stubbornly
in the craw of his acolytes on this very list. At least, you tell me,
they read out Holden's WORDS (the Text, the Text) But
the INTONATION was wrong. Oh dear, deary me.
As for that naughty spy camera. The only thing wrong with it
was the tiresomeness of watching another bunch of suckers
fall for the hunted-haunted, antelope-artist gimmick yet again.
And I REMAIN persuaded that the experience of war did
much to turn JDS into an artist - just as it did for Cervantes,
Tolstoy, Hem, and - OK, Robbie? - Homer.
Scottie B.
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Received on Sun Nov 10 12:33:47 2002
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