On the sex lives of the castrati.
London Review of Books
An accidental evening with Yeats, in the spring of 1937.
On Keith Richards’ autobiography.
There’s some very sensible advice on how to take drugs, too.
Remembering jazz musician Ornette Coleman.
On being kicked out of Doris Lessing’s house.
“The White House still maintains that the mission was an all-American affair, and that the senior generals of Pakistan’s army and Inter-Services Intelligence agency (ISI) were not told of the raid in advance. This is false, as are many other elements of the Obama administration’s account.”
Being friends with Susan Sontag was thrilling, but also “shot through in the end with mutual irritation.”
“What I had going for me was teen rage, contempt impervious to offers of compromise; the power of the mask capable of turning ice to marshmallow, and all the time in the world, all the ability to sustain it without surrendering.”
“When constant revisionism and re-invention is under way, what does it profit a biographer to drag the weary ‘facts’ before us?”