Horace Tweed-Bottomley introduces the author of JDEllevsen.com (formerly WildeTimes.net)
I was making my way to the Bodleian one otherwise pleasant day when an antipodean arriviste accosted me, thrusting some chapters of a novel about Oscar Wilde into my unwilling hands, and another about Victorian artists. JD Ellevsen asked for an opinion of said manuscripts, and also asked for comments on the Man Booker Prize. I was polite. Unfortunately, JD mistook this for acquiescence, as colonials are wont to do.
Quite unbidden, JD Ellevsen went on to confess a passion for Oscar Wilde’s works and life that was sparked one day in a basement bookshop on George Street, Sydney, circa 1990. How I envy Wilde. He would not have considered JD Ellevsen fit to wash his collars, but at least Wilde has the advantage of being safely dead.
This provincial non-entity called JD Ellevsen continues to importune me with intermittent scribblings, ‘tweets’ and Instagram ‘posts’. When one thinks of all the novels that might have been completed, one is almost grateful that the internet, TV and other mindless entertainments exist. Thankfully, JD Ellevsen also has a day job and a book addiction, so I might be spared from more manuscripts.
Now that I’ve written this profile for JDEllevsen.com (formerly WildeTimes.net), I trust that JD Ellevsen will leave me in peace, but I fear that it will not be so. We seem to have developed a symbiotic relationship. JD tells me that I am a parody, an alter ego and an “inner critic”. I’ve referred JD to Waffington in Psychology, Philosophy and Linguistics; he takes an interest in such psychobabble.
Dr Horace Tweed-Bottomley
© JD Ellevsen 2011