We are never well

For about a decade I was convinced I was mortally ill. The identity of my illness changed several times, but the fear was always the same: in short, that I was dying; that I had some dreadful and no d

ADMISSIONS SHADOW WORK Loneliness and the literary ...

TRICKS LITERARY ILLUSIONS Performance magic and Victorian ...

WINDINGS NO STRAIGHT ROAD TAKES YOU THERE ...

Write to The Critic by email at letters@thecritic.co.uk including your address and telephone number

Avoiding the curse of the figurative