A. Williams College
A. Louis Armstrong
A. I wake up happy every day, but why?
A. Still time to figure that out. I'll have it posted on my tombstone.
A. I'll know it when I get there. I hope.
A. Not being able to help those I love.
A. Right here - I love Cape Cod.
A. Neanderthals - who knows why?
A. Prominent people are so worn down by overexposure I find it hard to really admire any of them. Instead these days I seem to be admiring nameless people I see who just keep doing what they have to, sometimes with humor and grace.
A. None, I hope. Can't anything be just right?
A. No regrets.
A. That's easy - I'd love to be musical. I'd start on dobro, move on to trumpet, also take up drums. I'd writer lots of songs, sing on the street for money, make a happy fool of myself.
A. Raising four happy kids.
A. My volley, especially on the forehand side.
A. Probably for others to say, but maybe it's that I don't often lose my temper. On the other hand, loss of temper can be a useful tool, as I'm sure we've all seen, and therefore I'm somewhat handicapped.
A. One of those mountain men who first saw the Rockies.
A. Again, probably for others to say, but maybe it's that I have my own take on just about everything; and again, as above, a double-edged thing.
A. Jack Aubrey
A. Raskolnikov - if you can call him a villain.
A. Jesus. I'd like to know if the events of the past 2000 years have caused him to change his mind about anything.
A. Human overpopulation.
A. Playing tennis.
A. sense of fun, energy, optimism
A. If You Were Mine (Billie Holiday), Black and Blue (Louis Armstrong), Recondita Armonia (Jussi Bjoerling), He Stopped Loving Her Today (George Jones), Milky White Way (Elvis Presley)
A. Graham Greene Dostoyevsky Nabokov Philip Larkin P.G. Wodehouse
A. Crime and Punishment Heart of Darkness Lucky Jim Scoop Bleak House
A. The Aubrey/Maturin series.
A. Find what's original about you and put it into words.
A. Where do you get your ideas?
A. My wife said, How about doing something with dogs? The basic building blocks came to me right there at the kitchen table: two detective pals; narration by the four-legged one; and all in the first person, which I'd never tried before in a novel. Plus the most important thing - Chet would not be a talking dog (or be undoggy in any way) but would be a narrating dog. Anything that thinks and has memory must have a narrative going on inside. I went to the office - over the garage, commuting distance fifteen feet - and wrote the first page. Then I wanted to know what happened next.