I hardly know where to begin when it comes to describing a single object in my writing room. We’re talking the literary equivalent of Francis Bacon’s studio here, for the room is a dusty, mildewed slew of stuff, a terminal moraine of yellowing paper, and a slurry of tat. The walls are covered wi…
Subject+Object: The fount of all smoky wisdom
Striking the keys of the same typewriter that once sat under J.G. Ballard’s fingers, Will Self reimagines the legendary writer’s last days.