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Noanswers
Interests: These should be self-evident :)
Recent Activity
Gracq is a bridge too far for me; this -- exemplary -- from the “Castle of Argol”: The set of his neck was graceful, and the broad deep chest seemed made to sink emotions to the bottom. The long thin fingers of the ardent and unquiet hands appeared endowed each... Continue reading
Posted May 6, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
When, some years back, my best friend got married, he requested that, in lieu of a wedding gift, I give him a copy of whatever book had meant most to me. Ten years before, I would have given him the Serpent’s Tail edition of Juan Carlos Onetti’s “A Brief Life.”... Continue reading
Posted May 6, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
In mid eighteenth century Scotland James Macpherson came to prominence with his translations of ancient Gaelic poetry. Melancholy and mythic, they sounded a new note in the infancy of romanticism, as poets turned away from the formal constraints of neo-classicism and mused upon an as yet ill-defined but decidedly interior... Continue reading
Posted May 6, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
The gypsy roulettist Michaela Androzna came to prominence in a small Balkan town on account of her bravery and good fortune. The revolver she carried chambered just two bullets, but by 1915 twenty sceptical corpses had proved her right, in late night transactions conducted within the walls of battered villages... Continue reading
Posted Apr 14, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Only this far. Just the first page: “Gentlemen,” the Chief Inspector said at last, “I want you to go over every aspect of this case. Since the official record has been my only source of information, I think we should start with a brief summary, Farquart, perhaps you can begin.”... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Dear Anna, Shanti from the end of time! I say “end of time” with a certain self-conscious irony, but that is very much how things are and will be -- unless we as a collective choose to differ. It was hard work, but we won that fight, and, believe me,... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Dear Andrea, I am writing to you because I am (at least) your 42nd generation grandchild. I do not know for certain, but the way statistics work, there is only a finite amount of space, so the twin facts of our existence -- the fact that I know you existed,... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Anya Michaela died in that somewhat exclusive enclave of history we know as “the future.” The future was not always this way. Until the 19th century, the future scarcely existed. And even then, when romanticism gave it birth, we were hesitant about projecting our history more than a generation, extrapolating... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Anya Michaels once put flowers in a vase on the table, yet all I know is that her children’s children, and her children’s children’s children feel that their existence is more real than hers, and that, in some sense, her life is inevitably historical, since it is simply a part... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
A. M existed in a world in which people disappear -- and disappear she did. I am not sure how much better things are now, in which it is almost impossible to disappear. In second hand shops they used to sell photographs of unknown women and men, of unknown families... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
I cannot belittle Andrea Franck. The better I imagine her, the humbler I feel in her presence. Oh, she’s no angel. Her brother tells me that when her engagement was called off she broke the back of a cat. The image makes no sense: how does one break the back... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
The sum total of Andrea Michaelovich’s existence is the 1942 telephone directory of Bolansk. At that time she existed by way of the prefix “437”, within the jurisdiction of Gdalz within the wider province of Mieramschauten. If you were to ring that number today you would find … well, nothing.... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
I hate to tell so many lies about Androza Michaelovich, said Petrov. Well, what lies have you told? In truth, I have told none … yet, said Petrov. But the fact remains she was born an orphan here, in Bolansk; she had few friends for company, and every day she... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Androzka Michaelicz was most probably killed by her own Intelligence bureau. We have, post facto, no evidence she worked for any Intelligence bureau, but that of course is the modus operandi of Intelligence bureaus around the world, and a testament (by way of plausible denial) to her level of seniority... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Androszka died after an altercation with a garden statue, known affectionately in English as a “gnome.” Justice Pietr recounted the facts, namely that Androzka kicked the gnome, finding her path impeded by it; the defendant then pushed her. Falling backward, Androzka’s head collided with a large stone, causing brain injury... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
I have long wanted to write something about Stanislaw Lem, but was unable to find a place to begin. That’s not quite true. All my projected beginnings began in the same place, but somehow I didn’t feel convinced that this beginning was really adequate. So instead I would like to... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
“Only Kafka could experience language with such intensity and express his response in such a strange and striking way”, writes Josipovici in his essay “Reading Kafka Today.” It’s an unremarkable sentence, and yet I fasten upon it, not entirely sure at first why it has given me pause. Then I... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Androsna Michaels died aboard the train from Bolansk to Perla following a mostly ineffectual discussion. She had asked when they would be arriving, and Blagasz told her that the next stop was Tod. Androsna did not know where Tod was, so Blagasz explained that it was not far from Lieberhallen.... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
The counsel to leap from a cliff is hardly an invitation to be taken lightly, but Andreissen was oddly persuasive. From circumspect personal accounts to citations, dossiers and even a concordance, the indubitability of the thing was soon established; all that was at stake, most probably, was a good reason... Continue reading
Posted Feb 4, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
At the Coliseum in Covent Garden last week I saw for the first time The Nutcracker Suite. It was not just the first time I had seen The Nutcracker, but, as it happens, the first time I had seen the Coliseum itself. Indeed, I had not been to the ballet... Continue reading
Posted Jan 13, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
The death of Anders Andreissen created understandable confusion in Bolansk since there were two residents by that name, and both were to die in the same way, at similar times, in an incident which seems too contrived to have been purely coincidental. Brigadier Petrov mowed down the first Andreissen as... Continue reading
Posted Jan 13, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Sometime before midnight, Androsza Michael was crushed to death by an artificial policeman she had fabricated from hessian, jute and builders sand. The incident occurred after she had carried (or more probably dragged) the artificial policeman to a vantage point above the town. Then the two appear to have taken... Continue reading
Posted Jan 13, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
Just after 8pm Michaela Droszka started to sneeze uncontrollably; her sneezing bout lasted until 7pm the following day, at which point she died. This was equivalent, Dianetti noted, to the entire child population of a small Austrian town standing on their doorsteps and sneezing in unison every minute for thirty... Continue reading
Posted Jan 13, 2017 at Noanswers's blog
I never knew my father wore an amulet. I learned this instead from the Spaniard over the way, whose daughter I regularly, almost daily, was determined to marry -- or at least find out her name. "I'll call you Silvia," I said. "Well that's logical -- presumably on account of... Continue reading
Posted Jun 8, 2016 at Noanswers's blog
For between three and four months, dating from the first day of autumn, in the early hours of which the swans, flying in the low light along the Thames, can be sustained in narrative by little more than the lengths of shadow beneath their wings (a detail about whose absolute... Continue reading
Posted Jun 7, 2016 at Noanswers's blog