It’s hard to believe that this year I find myself wishing for rain. We often sit on the sofa and watch the sky darken outside the window, waiting for thunderstorms, sighing when the clouds pass over and the earth under them has gotten no relief. The air remains humid but at the same time dusty and expectant. This is a review of Dostoevsky’s Demons.
There are some problems that only happen with antiquarian books. Namely, that sometimes you can collect a single work in bits and pieces. This is a review of Jan Potocki’s The Manuscript Found in Saragossa.