SCOTT ALSWORTH hears the call to burn down and rebuild the video game industry from the bottom up
Squirming on the pin
MATTHEW HAWKINS sees past the purple prose to themes of rejection and ageing in the autobiographical fiction of Rupert Everett

The American No
Rupert Everett, Abacus, £20
Somewhat mantra-like, the words favourite writer, gifted storyteller, literary star, writer, gifted writer, writer to his (aching) bones, sequentially appear on the jacket of The American No, a short-story collection penned by Rupert Everett.
Such peppering served to pique my awareness of clunkers like “one Sunday morning we found ourselves in the Kit Kat club as usual” and “she ran out into the bazaar, into the orange glare” and (on the loading of a hearse) “the bouncers secured the coffin to the brass rails and fastened the flowers on top before climbing in.”
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