Flattening the Curb
Eric Deguire explores how a television program can be a perfect match for these sad and strange times.
The site has been down, owing to server overload. Some of that is the
traffic generated since the four pieces I posted yesterday, but most of it has
nothing to do with this site but with another dealing with UFOs and
nuclear weapons.
My webmaster suggests that as a way of increasing traffic, and I guess it would be.
In the meantime, knowing the content my visitors -- from 50
countries, 33% from the U.S., 21% from Canada, and all you others from across the planet -- and I are
interested in, he is looking into an alternative server.
There have also been issues for those of you registering on my site
and wishing to comment on the posts. More to follow on that.
In the meantime, you can still, if you wish, comment on Facebook, on LinkedIn, and on Twitter @lindaleith.
I apologize for the disruption and thank you for your patience.
Linda Leith
.ll.
Eric Deguire explores how a television program can be a perfect match for these sad and strange times.
I hate to break this to you, Ladies and Gentlemen – especially if you’re still in denial about the digital revolution – but the literary future includes not only electronic books, but words and images dancing on a screen, with voice and music and other sound effects.
Bertrand Gervais
Habs fever hit Endre Farkas as a small boy in Communist Hungary with the surprise arrival of a red wool sweater with a CH in the middle.
When French author Annie Ernaux was ten years old, she overheard her mother conversing with a customer outside the family-run small grocery. The mother confided that there was a daughter before Annie, a six-year old girl who contracted diphtheria and who “died like a little saint.” L’Autre fille (The Other Daughter) is Annie Ernaux’s letter to the departed.
Annie Ernaux [Photo: Catherine Hélie, Gallimard]