A Star Appeared...and Was Momentarily Eclipsed By

As Far As The Novel Is Concerned In My Own Country, I Think It's In A Pretty Healthy State.

Worse Than Madness. Sanity.

He Became Absorbed Beyond Mere Happiness As He Felt Himself Exercising Control Over Living Things. He Talked To Them, Urging Them, Ordering Them. Driven Back By The Tide, His Footprints Became Bays In Which They Were Trapped And Gave Him The Illusion Of Mastery.

What Are We? Humans? Or Animals? Or Savages?

I Really Feel The Novel Has Certain Conveniences About It And Has Something So Fundamental About It You Could Almost Say That As Long As There Is Paper, There Is Going To Be The Novel.