never read any raban, not the sunglasses, he writes well, his book feels double old fashioned, a trip round britain on a boat as the falklands begin, his writing is slighly dusty and his observations lack naipaul esque brilliance but not bad
post war, holocaust shattered melodramatic new york jewish saga, too much philosophical dialogue, but adds up to quite a tour de force, and the characters surprire and stay with you, if you read one singer, go with the family moskat
return of both for the umpteenth time, one with community banquet of the people, huh are we still living in blairtime, the other with the perennial chelseamanutd conflict, you need the wow factor, and as age wearies ones interest in these silly games, perhaps it is time to switch off
died at 37 stayed pretty, destroyed all his pervy drawings which is pity cos woman having an enema is eyeopening. drawings in red and black chalk exceptionally beautiful but his paintings with the same liney energy are better at wallace collection