you like it really tender.

A real rib-sticker, this stew. Slow Dream beauty pro hard sell down and extend the cooking time (adding liquid if necessary) if you like it really tender.

For the pork

2 tsp vegetable oil

600g/1lb 5&fra

its elegiac end.

Collectively, their outsider’s view highlights several important aspects of our literary culture. It confirms, for instance, the international clout of Britain’s biggest book prizes when it comes to promoting novels abroad and cementing reputations. Of the 21st Century titles that made the list, Andrea Levy’s Small Island won the Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction (then known as the Orange Prize), and Zadie Smith’s debut White Teeth snagged, among other trophies, the Costa Novel Award (then called the Whitbread) reenex. Hollinghurst’s The Line of Beauty, Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall and Julian Barnes’ The Sense of an Ending all won the Man Booker Prize, for which Ian McEwan’s Atonement, Sarah Waters’ The Little Stranger and Monica Ali’s Brick Lane were also shortlisted.

Do women writers’ observations appeal to other outsiders?

Most significantly, though, Britain’s literary landscape appears to be a good deal more female to outsiders than we ourselves appreciate. Why is this? Happily, the sheer range of work by women authors in this poll dooms most attempts at generalisation. There are feminist classics like Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook, period pieces such as Barbara Pym’s Excellent Women, and books that simply deserve a greater readership – Sybille reenexBedford’s A Legacy for one. I let out a whoop of joy to see Jane Gardam’s Old Filth at number 71; it’s one of the best evocations you’re likely to read of how Englishness has evolved over the past 100 years – a sheer delight from its shrewd, curmudgeonly beginning to its elegiac end.

Still, it’s possible that some of the criticism traditionally aimed at ‘women’s writing’ stands it in good stead where foreign readers are concerned. The domestic focus and small canvas? Both make for fiction that taps into universal themes such as relationships, children, the rich churn of inner lives.

We shouldn’t forget either that critics were asked to identify the greatest British novels, not merely great novels that happen to have been penned by natives of our island. Could it be that aspects of womanhood – a propensity to find oneself ever the underdog, say – chime particularly resonantly with aspects of our national character, resulting in a distillation of all that readers abroad look for in an authentically British book? A likelier explanation might be that so many generations of women writers have found themselves to be doubly outsiders – by virtue of both gender and creative calling – that their observations appeal to other outsiders.

the views of non-British critics

Earlier this year, when that same newspaper offered up another list – 100 Novels Everyone Should Read – women authors accounted for only three of the top 10 books, and a dismal 19 of the full 100. Meanwhile, The Observer’s chief literary maven, Robert McCrum, spent two years drawing up his ultimate list of 100 best novels in English. When he revealed his all-time top 10 in August, he named four novels by women. In all, however, works by female authors accounted for only one in five of his chosen titles reenex.

BBC Culture’s poll draws exclusively on the views of non-British critics

So what accounts for the findings of BBC Culture’s poll? For starters reenex
, it focuses strictly on British rather than international or English-language literature. Another difference is that it doesn’t limit itself to a particular period of time, but takes in everything from Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, published in 1719 and widely held to be the first English-language novel, to works published this decade. Yet these differences fail to explain why our poll would yield more works by women – far from it. After all, America has a glittering tradition of great women authors, and it’s been reneexsignificantly easier for a woman to carve out a literary career since 1945 – the Times list’s starting point – than at any time before.

No, the key distinction between BBC Culture’s poll and those others is that it draws exclusively on the views of non-British critics. Divided more or less equally in terms of their gender, its critics hail from countries including the United States, Canada, Australia, Denmark and India.

Wash the dust in the world

Blowing cool wind, attack with all things and wash the dust in the world.

Late autumn cold season of heavy and can't let go of mood, and prosperous and the same time, began to waste.

As if all the busy life die in this bleak season, nuskin hong kong this season after season through time, carrying too many too many, somehow feel a drifting away, disappear in the edge of the distance.

Stay alone in the corner of outdoor, look up at the sky of dark gray, stop to silent bow, mind wandering to sink to the deep profound realm, as if the whole people become heavy and bleak, casual every minute emerge many brimful smile, like the life the last line of tea, light such as wind and subway.

Past to cool, leaves fall to the ground every piece thriller, cool above order scattered on the streets, was so messy.

Picked up, together with love to pieces, the obsession with keep gu yi in decline in the dust, and play again and again.

The past, not across the sky leaving short, has become a wait-and-see, in the heart than in the past time, reality is too careful management, deep into the expect long plain.

This season, even with all the detour past the plot, the end still gives a piece of dust in the thick soil.

When everyone knows real clear in the past also impetuously who go away to become the past, run out of time in the youth, nu skin the exhaustion of the final respite in the ways of life, began to silence, silently count together with the lingering time at the bottom of my heart, not in the endless wilderness roared past.

When one day we all went to the old, you missed a person, who will be the end of the earth, had been hard and eternal fill the past, the oath of chapters, deeply seal cutting in the annual rings of life, let you and I can't help to count the vicissitudes of the old one.

Has value in late autumn, the weather is a little bit cold, even in the morning mom do broth is slightly bitter, I can't help but sigh with emotion, time of the fall, as the youth by inches, and then be ruthless years soaking faded, no matter how you to dodge or.

In once upon a certain scene, often can let a person can't help think of some people, some things, but even so how can? Just a touch, it is a heavy and desolate.

Tried to find the time lost promise, for a moment, as if it through ten million, empty all, once promise, also in the sight of light emerged, destined to just a nightmare, why am I still see your face?

When smile become statues, one step one step away, burning the old ignorance, in chapter continue to write off the time, a man in the gray space alone sad luxuriant.

When trying to recall rebirth in the vicissitudes of the years river, but know that it is self-deception, never forget not to drop, always difficult to split!

During the day, I pretend to smile, with a false smile to deceive the real everything! Night, dull to sit, the imperfect and uncertainty, the original strength is so hypocritical.

Falling far far road, every word or contracted wounds do not belong to the smile, each a sad poison in the poppy, nu skin silent stroke of stone is also engraved with your name, tassel as ambiguous mottled, one piece that was long ago.

Time flies by, efforts to want to return to the starting point, but unable to find, has not back to the starting point, I close my eyes quietly, bend down, silent look back.

Tomb, is I and wait of beauty, flowers in hand, hold a memorial ceremony for me, I wonder if you know that I in front of the tomb, was buried under the promise for you, and my pale scream! But who also can't hear, my soul fades in the fireworks.

Let the time quietly flowing

Is should write something, but can't write. Don't write doesn't mean no thinking, no opinions, no joys and sorrows, don't write may need to go beyond, beyond words.

A life without a catharsis of export, it is a terrible thing, the export of more terrible is your anger was chocked up with living.

That is not necessarily a good thing, afraid is afraid think they understand, Dream beauty pro it is confused.

Confused is the high level, high job in carrying understand playing dumb.

And I, but not more than two, but it is a real fool.

Confused to face the life of happiness but not happy, silly to increasingly lost on my way to find their own.

Get all the way seems to be too easy, so feel so precious.

But can not find, and want to hold.

Life should be simple, happy, simple.

But I was with my dull brain clouding the simple life, the happy mood melancholy, the pure render with melancholy, Dream beauty pro seemed cheerful appearance bottoms with a heart lock and heavy, heavy to alone with yourself, can't breathe.

However, I am unable to change all this, perhaps by nature. Character determines the fate, it seems, is justified. I recognize the all.

Today is the day of the university entrance exam, always inexplicable sad on this day, like lingering pain stamp in mind. Don't think that's a good thing, Dream beauty pro think it is a sad thing.

Fortunately I survived it all, don't have to do a so crazy, at least, is anxious parents, write here, have to thank god for the gift of gifts to give me as a filial child, I don't need to bear that burden.

Each time, the heart is sad erosion, fortunately, a word can comfort me, it is the best lover, best girlfriends, and is the closest hand, repeatedly touched my some not moan, it knows that, even after the preface don't take language, even if the contradiction, even if nonsense, as long as I want to return to the sunshine smile of happiness, Dream beauty pro it can comb I slowly, until I looked up from the clouds to see the blue sky again, until I looked down to see long your shadow behind.

I enjoy this moment, I know, each beam of light will have a shadow behind, even if I can is the sun, the shadow behind don't avoid, have bright dark life is full of life.

At the moment, I just want to like the water lily, quietly as time flowed a little while.


No Name Ninja