A Manifesto

"Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's awful."

No Dickens, no McEwan.
No discussion of translation theory, unless we can be bothered. A defence of this stance will follow (if we can be bothered).
No women on pirate ships.
No Freud – or any other universally defunct psychologists.
No Benedict Cumberbatch.
No dystopian young adult novels.
No co-opting of literature to make superficially clever points.
No clear explanation of what a furrowed page is.

There will be earnest criticism and discussion of poetry.
There will be reviews of both new books AND old books.
There will be a lot of self-indulgent discussion about books in general.
There will be feeble attempts to analyze books intelligently and sensitively using the skills gained during our degrees in English Literature (and Art History, for shame) at a TOP RUSSELL GROUP university.
There will be lists.
There will be chat about bookshops in London, sometimes.
There will be jokes but few good ones.
There will be mention of The Great Gatsby but absolutely no – and this nonnegotiable – Great Gatsby-themed parties.
There will be posts every Sunday.
There will be posts every Sunday.

"Everywhere I have sought peace and not found it, except in a corner with a book."