Aug 29, 2020 | Non-Fiction, Travel |
I am wary of the dangers of fetishizing dialect and archaism – all that mollocking and sukebinding Stella Gibbons spoofed so brilliantly in Cold Comfort Farm (1932). Wary, too, of being seen to advocate a tyranny of the nominal – a taxonomic need to point and name,...
Mar 28, 2020 | Non-Fiction, Travel |
Although I knew Gaelic to be richly responsive to the sites in which it was spoken, it was my guess that other tongues in these islands also possessed wealths of words for features of place – words that together constituted a vast vanished, or vanishing, language for...
Mar 7, 2020 | Fiction, Poetry |
I will wait here in the fieldsto see how well the rainbrings on the grass.In the labor of the fieldslonger than a man’s lifeI am at home. Don’t come with me.You stay home too. I will be standing in the woodswhere the old treesmove only with the windand then with...