![]() Slowly, patiently, with unstoppable momentum, he explains in his ramshackle English that the full stop is all very well for other writers, but it is not for him. ![]() He's discussing his disenchantment with the paragraph break and the full stop, expounding why the prose of his novels surges across the page in what his translator George Szirtes calls a "slow lava flow of narrative, a vast black river of type". The Hungarian writer is sitting in the armchair by the window, the morning after bewitching an Edinburgh festival audience with an electrifying reading from his novel Sátántango. P erched on the end of the bed in László Krasznahorkai's hotel room, I realise that I'm in the clutches of a formal dilemma. ![]()
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