Harry Mathews

Preface Like many writers, I often find starting the working day a discouraging prospect, one that I spend much energy avoiding. Four years ago I was reminded of an injunction Stendhal gave himself early in life: Vingt lignes par jour, génie ou pas (Twenty lines a day, genius or not). Stendhal...

The Pines at Son Beltran If marriage is separation "To meet again," where is that country? The high pines bend Seaward in slow acknowledgment of mountain wind. Clouds coast over blurred blue water, Away, whiteness heavy with gold. At such a table should marriage be broken— The square stone...