The William Trevor Reader: “The Hotel of the Idle Moon”
It feels safe to say that no other writer of great stature wrote more often than about old people. Only comes close—perhaps . Here’s an incredibly stupid admission: when I first encountered Trevor, it made perfect sense to me that he would write so much about old people, since he so perfectly embodied the platonic ideal of an old person. Those twinkly, wise eyes! That signature Irish walking hat! I was in my 30, in the late aughts,
