| Popis: |
Somewhere in Arncroach, Scotland, John Burnside is reading and writing. Perhaps he is perusing Henry Miller (his previous Princeton publication was on Miller), or perchance he is delving into unknown poetry from the Ivory Coast; he may very well be working on his eighteenth volume of poetry. Burnside, if nothing else, is a prolific artist and critic. In his most recent publication, The Music of Time, the poet-cum-novelist delivers an expansive representation of his versatility involving his m... |
