I long for the raised voice, the howl of rage or love.
The reason Saul Bellow doesn't talk to me anymore is because he knows his new novels are not worth reading.
I think the pattern of my essays is, A funny thing happened to me on my way through Finnegans Wake.
It's funny to be a critic.
What I really dream of is that somebody would blow everything I've done out of the water in a beautiful way, which would clear the way for something better to come along.
I think Henry Miller has had huge influence not because he wrote about sex, but because the memoir or the nonfiction novel has become such a monumental force in American publishing, if not in literature.
Critics? How do they happen? I know how it happened to me. I would send a poem or story to a magazine and they would say this doesn't suit our needs precisely but on the other hand you sound interesting. Would you be interested in doing a review?
There are things in American culture that want to wipe the class distinction. Blue jeans. Ready-made clothes. Coca-Cola.
I gave up writing blurbs because you make one friend and 200 enemies.
The novel doesn't come into existence until certain methods of reproducing fiction come along.
Kafka is still unrecognized. He thought he was a comic writer.