Author Reads a Review

Author Reads a Review, d1

‘I enjoyed the Open Pen Anthology,’ wrote the reviewer, ‘tremendously – aside from a couple of duds.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said I, ‘those duds, hew, that ghastly story about drug-taking, really quite gauche.’

‘My favourite story was Drug Frenzy at KP Crisps Night Shift.  Kishkari Frangipan writes with a searing savagery,  a new Hemingway, and searing, her analysis of twenty-first century human conditioning in raving is searing.’

‘What about this century!’

‘A lot of the writers are probably hipster arseholes.’

‘I can agree there, that book reading, a forest of ear trumpets, outrageous.’

‘My second favourite writer was…’

‘Here we go, time to cut and paste YOU, hah hah hah..’

‘…the introduction.’

‘Okay, bronze medal.’

‘As for those duds, Mat Woolf is a child without armbands caught in the rip-tide of modern literature…’

‘NO, no, no, no.’

‘Included as some kind of novelty, a private joke between publisher, editor, and the prime minister.  I applaud inclusion as a charity gesture, diversity is so important to our  society.  I applaud also the inclusion of these four young women…’

‘I am not a woman.  I AM NOT A WOMAN.  Oh, somebody else is a woman. Four year old included in the anthology is ridiculous.’

‘Four women contained in the anthology.  And why are the men not women? ‘

‘My point, said all my life, every party, said it to the editor in the pub.’

‘The writers are middle class white men…’

‘Look at me, feel  my brassiere under my kimono, and no work today down the chicken farm.  If only I might lose my voice,  educated voice, burdensome, trapped among middle class white boys, bastards, let me go – to my coarse people, tremendous pain needs recognition, and compensation, a tailor,’ STOP…