“Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing. This man White is an instinctive writer, bloody rare to find one who actually pulls it off, as in still gets a meaning across with concision. Sharp arbitrage of speed and risk, closest thing I can think of to Cicero’s ‘motus continuum animi.’

Probably takes a drink or two to connect like that: he literally paints his senses on the page.”

DBC Pierre (Vernon God Little, Ludmila’s Broken English, Lights Out In Wonderland ... Winner: Booker prize; Whitbread prize; Bollinger Wodehouse Everyman prize; James Joyce Award from the Literary & Historical Society of University College Dublin)





15 April 2018


The stuff that comes outa George Grainger Aldridge's phone usually indicates immediately when he's Darwin dreaming again, like this big fucker hopped off the skywaves yesterday,  miraculously coincident with our first sniff of anything like a southern winter. 

Like the first wet night of the year down here and he's having Cane Toad nightmares.

Nevertheless, there's never much doubt that George takes deeper pleasure in the risk of Territory wetness.

When he goes, he sends good photographs, too, like this pipe organ of tuned exhausts on a working boat on Stokes Wharf [trojanpencil@gmail.com]

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