On Dec. 30, I got word that Mark Carney, a fellow who had occupied an uncertain role in momentous events for the past few weeks, had published a year-end op-ed over in the inferior national newspaper. I started hearing about Carney’s piece right away from wiseacre friends, ones who probably don’t realize how any writer shudders a little at such catcalling. (“What are they saying about me out of earshot?”) One of them called it a “perfect, featureless cube of unmeaning,” and another compared it to an “odourless, impenetrable vapour cloud.” I actually ended up setting aside Carney’s op-ed, saving it for a couple of days as a little treat.
