Ireland has a strange effect on the English. A fantasy land so near and yet so far; at once foreign and, in some intangible sense, never entirely so. “Lonely in Ireland, since it was not home,” reflected Philip Larkin in …
Philip Larkin was a filthy genius
If literary reputations can be likened to a stock market, fluctuating on the tides of taste and time, Philip Larkin crashed in 1991. Until then he had been a strong buy, the unofficial post-war laureate, more synonymous with his time …
Ghislaine Maxwell had a choice
If I were Ghislaine Maxwell’s lawyer, a job only slightly more desirable than being Prince Andrew’s valet, I would have spent most of my time at her trial painting a picture of her father. It’s true that the sheer Dorian …
Black kids should study Larkin
On a Friday morning in March 2020, I entered a secondary school for the first time since I had left for university. I was there for an interview. The opening was for a tutor, not a teacher: instead of handling …