You're listening to a London Review of Books podcast.

Good morning. I think I'm allowed to speak now, is this right? I always think of an episode

in White Noise where the narrator sees her daughters sleeping and she's obviously dreaming she's mouthing

something and he thinks the dreams of a five-year-old what are they and he wanders over and

she's Toyota Salika so after this session with you know one of the world's premier literary

critics Jacqueline Rose you'll probably go, mouthing beer deluxe.

I hope that's not the case. I hope you have the question of Zion firmly implanted in your unconsciousness.

My name's Justin Clemens. I'm, I guess, the host of this morning. I think the reason I'm here is because I'm one of the co-editors of this excellent book

with a very pallid cover, the Jacqueline Rose Reader,

of which I was, it was an incredible experience to be able to read all of Jacqueline's published work to that moment

and then try and hack you know, hack it

apart, which is, I guess, the job of an editor and pretend that this curatorship, you know,

is a boo rather than an attack on something greater than yourself. So can you please welcome

someone... Someone... attack on something greater than yourself. So can you please welcome someone.

And Jacqueline, as they say, they normally say this room isn't big enough for the both of us,

but this room isn't big enough for the single one of you. I believe that it's sold out immediately

and there should have been more seats.

And this is one of the things I guess that I read when I read your work is

there should always be more seats.

There's always exclusions, apacities and so on,

going on even in the most apparently generous of openings,

whether textual or pragmatic.

...