This writer. The writer’s writer. Who better to write of the ‘amoral’ soul of an artist, laid bare to hear ‘the call of truth when it comes’ (109)? But it’s Cusk. Art is a ‘serpent’, a cold lonely yen for belonging (107).
This writer. The writer’s writer. Who better to write of the ‘amoral’ soul of an artist, laid bare to hear ‘the call of truth when it comes’ (109)? But it’s Cusk. Art is a ‘serpent’, a cold lonely yen for belonging (107).