Some ghosts develop more solidity, and even audibility, as the years pass. WG Sebald, the writer who above all others transformed the ravaged lands and minds of post-war Europe into a scene of hauntings, has grown from a wraith into a titan since the car crash in Norfolk that took his life late in 2001. Like many people who knew Max a little, and admired his work a lot, I have watched with both delight and alarm as this gentlest of geniuses has swollen into a cult of rock-star dimensions.
