
Kevin Barry Reads V. S. Pritchett
The New Yorker: Fiction
I Think Missus Cork Comes Out the Better of It
Prichard is uniquely suited, i think, in fictional terms at least to the story form. He's never misognos; he's never a snob. He feels deeply for all his characters - even the most dreadful ones. The sensitivity to sort of, not just change in mood, but to the expression of that change in mood are incredible.
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