“Always coming toward you with countenance a-gleam, the heraldic (his favorite word then) gleam of the blazoned escutcheon. The golden boy. Or a water sprite. Anyway, youth incarnate. Plus brains, plus an amazing critical acumen. Plus so many things. Il avait tout à gogo. Above all, he could laugh as no man has a right to laugh in a world so sick and troubled. “For all your ills, laughter!” Was there ever a Britisher who could laugh thus? I have never met one since. But then, could you really ca...ll him British? If I remember rightly, The Black Book was already finished by the time we met up. All that remained was to find a publisher for it. And we found him—in the person of Jack Kahane (Obelisk Press). The same Jack who had published the Tropic of Cancer. The only man in Christendom who had the guts to take a chance on dubious works of genius. (Curious that today one can’t find a copy of the book anywhere except in the padlocked vaults of libraries or in the private archives of collectors.) For all the bubble and laughter, he had his serious side too.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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