Friday, December 18, 2009

Makes You Glad You Never Wrote a Book

Self-important, pompous, pretentious, solipsistic, often obscure, sometimes barely coherent, [this] book seems to address itself only to those in the know.
Let's see, did I forget anything? Oh yes:
The translation ... renders these faults with exemplary accuracy.
That's Richard J. Evans ending s book review in the London Review of Books,12-14, 14 3 December 2009

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