With my popularity in American High Schools now a well-established fact, I'm sure it will come as a surprise to no one that, like Madeleine McCann, I'm also highly sought after in Portugal.

As of Monday night, I've been getting hits from a blog called Insónia (which I think is a song by Peter Andre), where my name seems to form part of an essay on very small narratives. Or something. Sadly it's written in Portuguese, and whilst I'm partial to a chocolate-covered Brazil nut, I'm not entirely fluent in the Romance languages of the Celtiberians.

But fortunately I have access to Babel Fish, and that combined with an uncanny ability to copy & paste, means that I've been able to accurately translate what Henrique Fialho is saying about me:

"The literature forms more soon cannot, by that it was said, be explained to the light of an unquestioned acceleration of our way of life. More than a justification for the micronarrative, we point to the technologies of the communication the fulcral paper of privileged support of some of the literary forms more badly loved of the literary intelligentzia call. It is in the InterNet that the cultores of these called "géneros minors" will find ways of draining of its art, wants through the creation of personal small farms (cf. Bob Thurber, Bruce Holland Rogers, Phil Gardner, etc)"

Hmm... I'm sensing that Babel Fish isn't quite the definitive translation service I thought it was. But that aside, am I being praised or persecuted? I'm willing to admit that I've created a personal small farm (well, I've grown strawberries in my windowbox), but I'm not sure I've ever drained anyone's art. And I certainly don't write on fulcral paper.

But still, it's nice to be mentioned in the same breath as the literary intelligentzia.