My title eches a line from one of my favorite Tom Wolfe books, From Bauhaus to Our House: “Le Corbusier was the sort of relentlessly rational intellectual that only France loves wholeheartedly, the logician who flies higher and higher in ever-decreasing concentric circles until, with one last, utterly inevitable induction, he disappears up his own fundamental aperture and emerges in the fourth dimension as a needle-thin umber bird.”

Which leads me to Nick Flynn’s forthcoming book The Reenactments, which is — hang on — a memoir about a film based on the author’s previous memoir. Complete with a title that tips a hat to its own self-referentiality. I look forward to the documentary film about the writing of the The Reenactments — called, perhaps, Reenacting the Reenactments — and the simultaneously appearing coffee-table book about the documentary. There is no escape from this hall of mirrors.