Has anyone noticed that our politicians seem to be rather lachrymose these days? When exactly did the trembling lower rather than the stiff upper lip become a public relations asset? Or are they all really regressing back to the emotional world of the nursery?
Favorite fiction of 2024
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Itamar Vieira Junior, Crooked Plow. Karen Jennings, Crooked Seeds. Richard
Flanagan, Question Seven. Guadalupe Nettel, La hija única, or Still Born
Sally...
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