I'm reading Patrick Hamilton's The Slaves Of Solitude. Typically exemplary fare by the writer of Gaslight and Rope, all seedy and murky and frustrated. But the intro by Doris Lessing, her of the Nobel Prize indifference, makes me want to read more about Hamilton's father, Bernard. Take this paragraph for example ...
"He was an impressionable traveller, amateur actor, fascist and dogged religious controversialist. At the age of 21, he had inherited a fortune and married a prostitute who threw herself in front of a train at Wimbledon Station. His second wife, the sexually frigid daughter of a fashionable London dentist, filled her time copying oil paintings, singing music-hall songs and writing romantic fiction. She found compensation for a loveless marriage in the possessive love of her three children"
Heady stuff - some one should write that adaptation!
Listening: 100 Broken Windows - Idlewild; Now I'm A Cowboy - The Auteurs; What's Going On - Marvin Gaye; Live At The Apoll0 - James Brown; Third (Sister Lovers) - Big Star
Watching: Spooks (isn't everybody); The Wire Season 3 (Stringer Bell is Machiavellian evil personified)