RAW MATERIAL by Alan Sillitoe


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Wrapping his tongue around ""mulch thoughts"" -- none of which by their own definition go very deep -- Mr. Sillitoe mutters intermittently that ""all troth is fiction, all fiction is the truth"" which puts this somewhere in the middle of either. On the one hand he speculates in a quasi-philosophic, neo-aphoristic fashion about Truth and at a loose count there are some fifteen statements thereon in the first 29 pages, to be resumed later, including one that goes something like ""those who exult in the truth turn into a river of semantic devastation."" Other, slighty more palpable, parts tell of his blacksmith grandfather Burton, a rigorous, vigorous sort who went to his grave with the still painful piece of steel in his eye which blinded him; an artist uncle Frederick who disappeared for years to return and give his final judgment: ""Civilization, my arse""; another uncle Edgar who drank his way into destitution; there's a sortie into the World War I of his father's era, and some asides on becoming and being a writer. A rather bedraggled small book -- meditative addenda and family table-scraps.

Pub Date: Nov. 1st, 1973
Publisher: Scribners