When You Publish A Book, It's The

He Was No More, Freed From Being, Entering Into Nowhere Without Even Knowing It. Just As He'd Feared From The Start.

Everybody Has A Hard Job. All Real Work Is Hard. My Work Happened Also To Be Undoable. Morning After Morning For 50 Years, I Faced The Next Page Defenseless And Unprepared. Writing For Me Was A Feat Of Self-preservation. If I Did Not Do It, I Would Die. So I Did It. Obstinacy, Not Talent, Saved My Life.

Everybody Else Is Working To Change, Persuade, Tempt And Control Them. The Best Readers Come To Fiction To Be Free Of All That Noise.

A Jew Without Jews, Without Judaism, Without Zionism, Without Jewishness, Without A Temple Or An Army Or Even A Pistol, A Jew Clearly Without A Home, Just The Object Itself, Like A Glass Or An Apple.

Obviously The Facts Are Never Just Coming At You But Are Incorporated By An Imagination That Is Formed By Your Previous Experience. Memories Of The Past Are Not Memories Of Facts But Memories Of Your Imaginings Of The Facts.