his words cut through me at that time: the authority of that man, the charisma, the apodictic contempt in that statement. So I accepted.
This is a very peculiar form of heresy. It's a form of Manichaeanism. And I call myself a Manichaean, a rather baffled Manichaean
Very much so. My writing of fiction comes under a very general heading of those teachers, critics, scholars who like to try their own hand once or twice in their lives. My early stories represent already an attempt to think about my central question. I think The Portage of San Cristobel of AH is mo…
We had to cross the river naked, holding our clothes over our head to keep them dry, and then build a warming fire on the other side of the river. It was madness and euphoria.
It was so beautiful. The salmon sky, snow clouds between us and the sun, cast a pearly reddish-goldish light on the whol…
I remember the year Martha said she didn’t love me any more. The baby was seven. The baby is a genius, we think. We knew it even then. She learned to read by the time she was three, and could also tell the difference between a buck track and a doe track. She’s an utter joy to be around. She, as muc…
