The Process Hasn't Changed, But The Writer

Fiorito Has All The Right Stuff. His Splendid Memoir About His Relationship With His Dying Father Belongs On That Small Shelf With Philip Roth's Patrimony And Frank Mccourt's Angela's Ashes.

The Revolution Eats Its Own. Capitalism Re-creates Itself.

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 Canadian Kid Who Wants To Grow Up To Be Prime Minister Isn't Thinking Big, He Is Setting A Limit To His Ambitions Rather Early.

I Work Every Day - Or At Least I Force Myself Into Office Or Room. I May Get Nothing Done, But You Don't Earn Bonuses Without Putting In Time. Nothing May Come For Three Months, But You Don't Earn The Fourth Without It.