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Showing posts from 2005

Art and Lies: A Piece for Three Voices and a Bawd

"There is no such thing as autobiography, there is only art and lies." I've never written a book review in my life and I don't intend to begin now although I suspect that it is precisely what I'm going to wind up doing. Sometime ago, I read a book which I loved. It's called Art and Lies: A Piece for Three Voices and a Bawd by Jeanette Winterson. Prose and poetry merge, and words are used to sculpt images (as opposed to being used to frame sentences). There isn't anything academic in it but doesn't lack depth. Art and Lies certainly isn't everyone's cup of tea though: it's the kind of work which either leaves you stunned by the beauty of its language or makes you want to throw rotten tomatoes at the author who, after all, often does nothing more than simply state the mundane and the obvious albeit beautifully. In many ways, the book reminded me of the film Closer --- although it lacks the crudity of the film --- and in particular, one lin