In Russia, . . . Chekhov attracts a kind of sickening piety. You utter the name ‘Chekhov’ and people arrange their features as if a baby deer had come into the room.”
. Janet Malcolm, Reading Chekhov, A Critical Journey
William Gass reviewing Susan Sontag’s On Photography in The New York Times,
. . . . the book is a thoughtful meditation, not a treatise, and its ideas are grouped more nearly like a gang of keys upon a ring than a run of onions on a sting.