What Are We? Humans? Or Animals? Or

Novelists Do Not Write As Birds Sing, By The Push Of Nature. It Is Part Of The Job That There Should Be Much Routine And Some Daily Stuff On The Level Of Carpentry.

The Rules!" Shouted Ralph, "you're Breaking The Rules!" "who Cares?

Then You Have People Coming Up Like Malcolm Bradbury, A Relatively Young Writer Who Deals With The Academic Scene And Deals With It, I Think, Brilliantly.

One Thing Should Be Put Firmly. Where People Have Commented On That Novel [the Paper Men], They Generally Criticize The Poor Academic, Rick L. Tucker, Who Is Savaged By The Author, Wilfred Barclay. I Don't Think People Have Noticed That I Have Been Far Ruder About Barclay Than I Have Been About Tucker. Tucker Is A Fool, But Barclay Is A Swine. The Author Really Gets His Come-uppance.

I Play The Piano Passionately And Inaccurately. Indeed, I Worked Out The Other Day That Of My Seventy-five Years; I Have Spent At Least One Year Sitting On A Piano Stool.