The Fact Is, There's A Great Deal

A Thousand Recollected Lives Were Passing Through Her, A Thousand Stories - Of Love And Work, Of Parents And Children, Of Duty And Joy And Grief. Beds Slept In And Meals Eaten, And The Bliss And Pain Of The Body, And A View Of Summer Leaves From A Window On A Morning It Had Rained; The Nights Of Loneliness And The Nights Of Love, The Soul In It's Body Keeping Always Longing To Be Known.

The Fact Is, There's A Great Deal Of Hair-splitting Fussiness When It Comes To Fly-fishing, Most Of It As Silly As A Top Hat.

One Of The Traps Or The Pitfalls Of Writing A Trilogy - Or A Triptych, Or Whatever Term You Want To Use - Is That The Second Book Can Be A Long Second Act To Get You From Book One To Book Three, Which Borrows All Of Its Energy From The First Book.

This Ravishing World. This Achingly Bittersweet, Ravishing World.

That Literary-popular Distinction Is, In My View, Vastly Overstated. At The Far Poles There Are Clearly Books That Are Purely Commercial And Purely Literary, Written For Audiences That Want To See The Same Thing Enacted Over And Over And Over Again. But The Middle Is Where Most People Read And Most People Write.