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the ‘old child’ in faulkner and o’connor. by conan christopher o’brien.

“Flannery O’Connor’s fiction also explores this distinctly Southern paradox through the symbol of the “old child”. Like Faulkner, she creates child characters who are disillusioned by the inactivity and lack of belief in their parent’s generation and subsequently construct their identity on the model of an elderly figure, only to suffer a tug of loyalties

big ben

We, Steph and I, climbed out at Bridge Street and ducked into a Tesco Express for paracetamol and hand sanitizer. Hoping they had a loo too. They didn’t. But they did have the bulk standard Meal Deal which we lunched on in the Square – a little patch of grass near Parliament which, it should

alphaville. and icicles on coal.

My grandmother tells me I look like my mother. And when I put on her old flannel shirt circa 1975… She laughs, “It’s enough to confuse anyone!” Pity I didn’t get the washboard abs she liked to sport, even at six months pregnant (I do not lie), or her Nefertiti neck. But I did get

oryx, crake and crumpets

Dear Flynn, I agree. It is a mite on the impolite side to turn down a generosity like sausage. Also, if you grew up in West Virginia in the 80s, you’re kinda like a war baby. Rations and all. Force of habit. I ate a crooked crumpet smothered in full fat maple syrup last night

few words

“The Writer must write what he has to say. Not speak it.” – Hemingway I can count the people who’ve seen me cry on half a hand. I joke that I’m emotionally stunted. And that’s the joke…that it’s not one. It’s something I’m working on. An ‘In Progress’ type thing. On Christmas Eve I sat

christmas kitsch

My mother is all about kitschy Christmas. She can’t help herself. Everything is red and green and mechanical with puffballs and candy canes and Santa Claus. I have a fabulous pair of elf socks, and this lovely trucker hat (of a sort) to prove it. Speaking of the mother…we always take photos of her Yorkie


If you live in Cheshire, or anywhere thereabouts, then Delemere Forrest is really the only place you should be getting your trees. The whole thing becomes a festive event. Like the opening scene from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Trekking out to the almost-middle-of-nowhere. Hiking it from there. Except, of course, it’s so much prettier. Because

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