Madam, - It has been brought to my attention that in my review of Ingrid Black's thriller The Dead, written under the name Michael Painter (Books, August 9th), I referred to her cigar-smoking, lesbian ex-FBI agent Saxon, as a he rather than a she.
The only extenuation I can claim for this Freudian slip is to say that I come from an older generation where such nuances of sexual preference were completely unknown, or at least well hidden. In my educational background, pious Sister Mary John would have been horrified to learn of such goings on, while the small, though perfectly formed, Brother Shorty O'Keeffe would have been equally dismayed to have his sanctified view of the virtuous side of things so ripped apart.
That was an older and simpler world, and perhaps I'm gazing back through rose-coloured spectacles when I saw it was a less complicated time.
However, my apologies to Ms Black for the error, and long may she and her fictional gender-bender thrive. - Yours, etc.,
VINCENT BANVILLE, New Cabra Road, Dublin 7.