In this month’s issue of The Believer, Nick Hornby writes:
Every now and again you are reminded forcibly that the ability to write fiction or poetry is not necessarily indicative of a particularly refined intelligence, no matter what we’d like to believe; it’s a freakish talent, like the ability to bend a ball into the top corner of the goal from a thirty-yard free kick.
Can the film Bend it Like Beckett be too far behind?