“I do not believe in the poet as a prophet. I do not believe in the poet as a revelator of absolute truths. I do not believe in the poet as a warrior. I think the poet is a sort of journalist of himself who uses language to flirt with beauty.”
Rebellion in Patagonia revealed a tragedy of the highest order, no doubt. But it’s in the story of the book and what happened to its author that we find the farce.
Colette, Twain, Plath, Sagan, Chandler, Shaw, Bradbury: all cat lovers and writers on the subject of cats. Suffice it to say that writers, second only to spinsters in the throes of dementia, are unequivocally cat people. What, if anything, can be gleaned from this critically neglected relationship?