Edmonton Is Not The End Of The

My Enduring Feeling About René Lévesque Is That If He Had Chosen To Hang Me, Even As He Tightened The Rope Round My Neck, He Would Have Complained About How Humiliating It Was For Him To Spring The Trapdoor. And Then, Once I Was Swinging In The Wind, He Would Blame My Ghost For Having Obliged Him To Murder, Thereby Imposing A Guilt Trip On A Sweet, Self-effacing, Downtrodden Francophone.

I Had, Like Any Other Young Novelist, Started Out By Believing The Difficult Thing Was To Get Published And That, Once You Managed That, Well, Your Financial Problems Were Over. I Discovered, Like Any Other Serious Novelist, That Actually They Had Only Just Begun.

Beauty, Like Male Ballet Dancers, Makes Some Men Afraid.

When A Child Is Born, I Once Explained To The Kids, Some Dads Lay Down Bottles Of Wine For Them That Will Mature When They Grow Up Into Ungrateful Adults. Instead, What You're Going To Get From Me, As Each Of You Turns Sixteen, Is A Library Of The One Hundred Books That Gave Me The Most Pleasure When I Was A Know-nothing Adolescent.

If You Caricature Friends In Your First Novel They Will Be Upset, But If You Don't They Will Feel Betrayed.