What sort of a mind produces a whole book as though it might be an error, each sentence a fault line? The Canadian poet Anne Carson – here chiefly writing prose – explains Wrong Norma is thus named because she knows the pieces within the book do not add up. We are not to expect them to be on speaking terms with one another. I have interviewed Anne Carson, a classicist frequently tipped as a contender for the Nobel prize, for this newspaper – but interview is not the word for what took place between us by email. I sent her questions, she swatted the majority of them away like troublesome flies. Sphinx would be an understatement. Formidable, ditto. I was relieved to learn, later, that she is well known for resistance to talking about her work.
