Dan Holloway

OK, I’m the first to admit I’m subject to a not insubstantial influence from Ginsberg, Cassady, Patti Smith and various other parts of late mid twentieth century American countercultur — but this really has nothing to do with navel-gazing, primal screams or the Age of Aquarius. Just like those slightly awkward elements of hippydom, though, this is one of those topics that makes authors shift uneasily in their chair, shuffle and generally look for an exit.

 I get why writers resent the question: “What do you stand for?” You can understand it in two ways. First, it sounds like a