Sebastian Faulks' entertaining review of Stuart Kelly's The Book of Lost Books makes it seem very entertaining. And it really is dizzying to comprehend the possible - though unlikely - discovery of a few dozen more plays written by Sophocles or a third work by Homer. They have all existed at one time, but now, apparently, they are lost.
However, I’m already dizzy as I regard every book as the record of its own loss. :)
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You are not Maurice Blanchot. You are truly odious. I am, I admit, anonymous.
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