I reviewed Trevor Cole's second novel in yesterday's Toronto Star, and somehow managed to fuck up the title throughout the entire thing.
I won't even try to make an excuse for it.
The rest of the review turned out ok, though my yearning for more consistently competent Canadian writing sounds a wee bit hollow now, doesn't it?
Read it here, if you like.
[UPDATE: link fixed, I hope.]
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A very subtle and funny writer - one I've become obsessed with over the past year - in a decidedly Muriel Spark mood. Imagine The Pr...
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I was wondering about that. Found it strange that he'd take Houellebecq's title. Anyway, it was a good review, so don't sweat it too much. (And where the frig was YOUR editor?)
btw, you also fucked up the TorStar link.
Rough day.
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