It was the pictures that got small

One of the hardest things about life is that it’s just one big straight line: you might see your father, and you might see your thirty-year-old father, and you might see your father as a thirty-year-old.
But you can never see your thirty-year-old father as a thirty-year-old.
At what point does form override plot function? When does the weight of style break the back of substance and narrative?
Back in the 70s, the Times Literary Supplement ran a contest to see who could write the best parody of a Graham Greene sentence. (This was when the TLS boasted such huge talents as Martin Amis and Christopher Hitchens on staff.) Graham Greene entered the contest as a joke. He came in third.
I thought of that today while…