Beauty, Like Male Ballet Dancers, Makes Some

A Boy Can Be Two, Three, Four Potential People, But A Man Is Only One. He Murders The Others.

Actually, When It Comes To Knocking The Canadian Cultural Scene, Nobody Outdoes Canadians, Myself Included. We Are Veritable Masters Of Self-deprecation.

In, 1950, At The Age, 19 I Dropped Out Of St. George William College In Montreal, As It Then Was, And Sailed For England On The Franconia. Foolishly, No Arrogantly, Believing I Could Put Canada And Its Picayune Problems Behind Me, Never Dreaming It Would Become The Raw Material Of Most Of My Fiction And Non-fiction. Or That I Would Care So Deeply About Its Surviving Intact.

The Process Hasn't Changed, But The Writer Has Developed. I Still Get Up Every Morning And Go To Work.

Canada Is One Of The Few Places Left Where The Small Decencies Are Observed. If, As A Young Man, I Was Scornful Of The Country Because We Always Seemed So Far Behind Style-setting New York, I Now Thank God For The Cultural Lag. Ours, After All, Is The Good Neighbourhood. A Society Well Worth Preserving.