[Orwn Acra]

I am sure you remember Snow White, that little strumpet dreaming of a man who could come bump her in the night. Well, the witch, portrayed as old and realistic, in that story goes "Mirror, mirror..." and I'll stop right there, because it seems that's as far as Mr. Borges got before writing this new collection of his, "Labyrinths." Like two mirrors facing each other, Borges reflects endlessly on mirrors. Also, mazes and incunabula. I have only cracked mirrors, and I try to avoid their eye at all times, just as men avoid mine, yet I am not too biased to say I don't give a damn as to where his footnotes lead or which of his cliff hangers I can hang myself from. The cover is a pretty little thing, black and blue, like a trampled violet or a bruised heart, but it's what's inside that counts. Or so everyone has told me, though the Princes in my life have certainly known better...