But That’s One Advantage Of Fiction, You

I'm A Novelist, So I Can't Write About Ideas Unless They're Attached To People.

We Live In Time, It Bounds Us And Defines Us, And Time Is Supposed To Measure History, Isn't It? But If We Can't Understand Time, Can't Grasp Its Mysteries Of Pace And Progress, What Chance Do We Have With History--even Our Own Small, Personal, Largely Undocumented Piece Of It?

We Live With Such Easy Assumptions, Don't We? For Instance, That Memory Equals Events Plus Time. But It's All Much Odder Than This. Who Was It Said That Memory Is What We Thought We'd Forgotten? And It Ought To Be Obvious To Us That Time Doesn't Act As A Fixative, Rather As A Solvent. But It's Not Convenient--- It's Not Useful--- To Believe This; It Doesn't Help Us Get On With Our Lives; So We Ignore It.

Women Were Brought Up To Believe That Men Were The Answer. They Weren't. They Weren't Even One Of The Questions.

Every Love Story Is A Potential Grief Story.