But we haven’t known him for twenty pages before he’s telling us he’s a liar. And a writer. Which is — apparently — the same thing.
“Each writer is only one person, and one person can only live so much of a life. That life is rarely enough to write a whole lot of stories about. So writers pillage other people’s stories and call them their own.”
I read this in February, but knew then that Still Life with June would be on my list of favourite reads for this reading year.
More here if you're curious!