His deep voice boomed, beautifully controlled, almost theatrical. The accent was slight: his grandmother had been English, and he had grown up with the language. He read Shakespeare and Wells, Stevenson and Chesterton, Wilde, and any number of obscure poets in English. “I adore Chidiock Tichborne,” he said to me. “Don’t you?” He could recite long passages of Anglo-Saxon verse from memory.
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
Bottoms up …
… The Time I Drank with Borges in a Scottish Pub | Literary Hub. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)
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In Little Wilson and Big God Anthony Burgess writes of swapping lines from Beowulf (in the Anglo-Saxon, of course) with Borges at a reception, perhaps at the White House, while the Argentinian security men stood by, confused and troubled.
ReplyDeleteI read the book, but had forgotten that. Thanks for the reminder, George.
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