The Problem, As I See It, Is

The Fantasy Never Got Beyond That—i Didn’t Let It—and Though The Tears Rolled Down My Face, I Wasn’t Sobbing Or Out Of Control. I Just Waited A Bit, Then Turned Back To The Car, To Drive Off To Wherever It Was I Was Supposed To Be.

When You Become A Parent, Or A Teacher, You Turn Into A Manager Of This Whole System. You Become The Person Controlling The Bubble Of Innocence Around A Child, Regulating It.

When I Got To 40 Or So... I Had The Sense When I Looked Back Over My Life I Would Actually See A Mess Of Decisions, A Few Of Which I Had Thought About, Some Of Which I Had Sort Of Stumbled On, And Many That I Had No Control Over Whatsoever.

I Quizzed Him A Lot On This Point And I Suspect The Truth Was That It Was Like A Lot Of Things At That Age: You Don't Have Any Clear Reason, You Just Do It. You Do It Because You Think It Might Get A Laugh, Or Because You Want To See If It'll Cause A Stir. And When You're Asked To Explain Afterwards, It Doesn't Seem To Make Any Sense.

The Booker Triumph Of Graham Swift's Moving, Effortlessly Profound Last Orders Is A Vindication Of The Quiet, Much-misunderstood Path This Fine Writer Chose To Take After The Brilliance Of Waterland More Than Ten Years Ago.