I always do my interviews face to face.
I've admired Bill Kauffman's books for years. . . appealing, elegantly written, and entirely American.
Faith without a measure of doubt ain't worth a brass farthin.
There was a code, and though it was mostly unspoken, I absorbed it early on. You always put all the trout back in the water alive except for a few to eat. You didn't count your trout or call attention to their size or weight. You took time to watch and enjoy seeing your partners catch trout.
Baseball, of all sports, and maybe of all human endeavors, has no room for cynicism.
Rick Bass is one of a dwindling handful of American fiction writers still celebrating the importance of place, the natural world, and the struggle of a few brave souls to live and work respectfully in what's left of our western wilderness. . . The Lives of Rocks is his most lyrical and powerful book to date. . . a masterwork.
I don't want to be like anybody else.
Darts players are probably a lot fitter than most footballers in overall body strength.
THE NAME OF THE WIND has everything fantasy readers like, magic and mysteries and ancient evil, but it's also humorous and terrifying and completely believable. As with all the very best books in our field, it's not the fantasy trappings (wonderful as they are) that make this novel so good, but what the author has to say about true, common things, about ambition and failure, art, love, and loss.
What I really want to do is produce. There isn’t much patience with a slow developing story line anymore.