Nobody’s Fool

Yesterday was what they call ‘April Fool’s Day’. Opinion differs as to the origins of this spurious festival (I blame the medieval German poet, Gert Von Effen) though few doubt its contemporary value. A day in which people have a valid excuse for indulging in pointless pranks? One can see why this has taken off…

As you may have guessed, I chose not to partake in this short rush of springtime tomfoolery. I did not, you notice, write a false account of Edmund Ek’s emergence from the Norwegian wilderness; nor did I inaccurately announce the arrival of a new book by Obo Urlach. Not for me the fading delights of bemusing fakery. No: I stand for facts. It’s hard enough getting people to believe the reality of what it is happening in the obscure regions of European literature, let alone what isn’t. One doesn’t want to risk losing what little respect one has. The reality of things is not a plaything: it deserves our deep, unyielding reverence: now and for ever, amen.

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