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The Truth Of The Matter Is, Beauty Is A Specific Thing, Rare And Fleeting. Some Of Us Have It In Our Teens, 20s And 30s And Then Lose It; Most Of Us Have It Not At All. And That's Perfectly Okay. But Lying To Yourself That You Have It When You Don't Seems To Me Simple-minded At Best And Psychotic At Worst.

Graham Greene Famously Said That All Writers Need A Chip Of Ice In Their Heart; Cusk Can Come Across As The Most Beautiful Ice Palace Of Stalactites And Stalagmites, And Some People Find Her Company, Albeit By Proxy, About As Inviting As A Long Weekend In A Walk-in Frigidaire.

I Won't Be Going To Any New Year's Eve Parties Because I Think They're Naff. No One Over The Age Of 15 Should Bother Going To Parties.

Having 'best Friends' Is - At Least For Me - As Outdated And Small-minded A Concept As The Idea Of 'sunday Best Clothes.'

Some Say That Cusk Has No Sense Of Humour, But Expecting Giggles From This Writer Would Be Akin To Expecting Sonnets From Benny Hill.