As Soon As Oliver Twist Is Serialized,

The Novel Is Very Much Alive, Indeed. In Toronto At The Sixth Annual International Festival Of Authors (october 1985) I Listened To Novelists By The Dozen.

However You Disguise Novels, They Are Always Biographies.

Consider A Man Riding A Bicycle. Whoever He Is, We Can Say Three Things About Him. We Know He Got On The Bicycle And Started To Move. We Know That At Some Point He Will Stop And Get Off. Most Important Of All, We Know That If At Any Point Between The Beginning And The End Of His Journey He Stops Moving And Does Not Get Off The Bicycle He Will Fall Off It. That Is A Metaphor For The Journey Through Life Of Any Living Thing, And I Think Of Any Society Of Living Things.

There Were No Words, And No Movements But The Tearing Of Teeth And Claws.

I Play The Piano Passionately And Inaccurately. Indeed, I Worked Out The Other Day That Of My Seventy-five Years; I Have Spent At Least One Year Sitting On A Piano Stool.