If You Caricature Friends In Your First

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 Obviously Prefer Writing Novels But I Take My Journalism Very Seriously, And I Enjoy Doing It Between Novels. It Gives Me An Opportunity To Move In The Outside World.

I Must Speak The Truth, Even At The Risk Of Being Ostracized By My Fellow Scribblers. In Fact, Anticipating Their Rage, I Have Already Applied For A Place In The Canada Council's Witness-protection Program. This Because, Much As It Pains Me To Turn On My Kind, I Fear The Time Has Come To Admit That Far Too Many Celebrated Writers Were Outrageous Liars, Philanderers, Drunks, Druggies, Unsuitable Babysitters, Plagiarists, Psychopaths, Parasites, Cowards, Indifferent Dads Or Moms And Bad Credit Risks.

Listen Your Lordship, I'm A Respecter Of Institutions. Even In Paris, I Remained A Canadian. I Puffed Hashish, But I Didn't Inhale.

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