On the Horizon:
A Talk with Robert Graves
I often saw a towering giant of a man, beyond middle age and usually dressed in an over-sized sweater and dungarees, on the beach near our home on Majorca. Sometimes he was alone, but usually he was accompanied by a slender, studious-looking woman and a blond, blue-eyed boy of two. Although our home was not inaccessible, it was off the beaten track for tourists and so the presence of strangers, and strangers who were undoubtedly foreigners, aroused our curiosity. I saw the “giant” as a retired British colonel, while my wife insisted he was a painter. Finally, we asked a Majorcan native who lived nearby if he knew who the stranger was.
“He is supposed to be an extraordinary writer,” we were told, “a very great man who has lived almost all his life here.”
“Do you know his name?” I asked, already half suspecting the answer.
“Roberto Graves. Have you heard of him?”
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