Lydia Davis

I have just read a diary entry from fifteen years ago, in which I wrote that I had just read some diary entries from many more years before that, written at a time when I was staying by myself in a small town near Caen, in Normandy.

The internet does a better job of documenting / the way we feel when something soft, especially / a mammal, is very cute, than poetry does. 

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The title of Lydia Davis’ story collection, Almost No Memory, belies the author’s capacity for nuance and detail. Fellow writer Francine Prose discusses the sensuality of structure and the perfection of shape.