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Reading...

I'm currently about two thirds of the way through Red Dog, Red Dog. Written by the Canadian poet Patrick Lane, it seems like every sentence drips with insightful and enriching metaphor. Despite portraying a sparse, arid landscape, the prose is achingly rich, drawing pictures in the dirt. Jon McGregor calls it a 'shock of a novel' and he's right. I shall post a review once I've reached the end. I've made time for it each night before sleep, even though recent days have proved hectic work wise - suddenly inundated with copywriting work (see my new work website here). Where has my PhD novel gone? It's still there, waiting for me to reconnect and draw more pictures in the dirt to alleviate the sinking apathy that characterises it in other parts. Luckily I'm off to Suffolk this weekend, when I shall aim to do just that.



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I'm also going to tweak section one of this three section critical paper with a view to journal publication because of the academic interest in the claims I make of Mary.




-Dedicated with love and respect to Dr Bruce Lloyd-


And in memory of my parents:
Thomas Valentine and Joan Theresa
Good people who taught me so much more than they realised

***


The biggest thank-you is due to Norma Clarke, Professor of English Literature and Creative Writing at Kingston University, who supervised this PhD. I never had cause to doubt my initial instincts as Norma proved to be the best mentor I could ever have wished for.

I would also like to acknowledge the generous studentship that I was fortunate to be awarded by Kingston Universi…

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