In response to issues arising from the last two posts, I have received a letter from a certain Aldous Egg (you may remember him – if not see here). The letter was not addressed to me exactly, which is why I have published it here, rather than, well, here. The letter was, nevertheless, intended for my eyes – and I am happy to supply you with a synopsis of its contents.
As usual, Egg takes the opportunity to be critical of my character, claiming that I am ‘well known for taking pains to present a skewed double-image’ of myself – and that I ‘crave to be considered “human”‘. Alas, I admit it – I am so often sadly inclined to deny the theory that I was born on another planet.
Egg goes on: ‘convinced of his greatness, he can’t help throwing his weaknesses in our faces’. He cites as an example the admission I made in the previous post; that autumn had been ruined, in part, for me, by the power of a story in which leaves falling from a tree are recast as killing machines (see below). This admission, Egg thinks, is false. Why so? Because he believes that ‘the power of literature cannot really permeate the senses of a logical man’. I beg to differ.
By the way, the sum of Mr Egg’s intelligence continues to be revealed, in all its glorious entirety, in his blog – which can (still, amazingly and amusingly) be found here.