Leave, with no answer. Move on to the next question.

At a certain age just being around particular people is an event.

Authenticity is too big a subject to just toss in with the question about the photographs!

In short, I'm pretty suspicious of the idea that there's a real and true and authentic world, and then a bunch of false ones.

I am occasionally enraptured by Western landscape. But I don't identify that state of mind as having to do with my own origins, having grown up in the West, although I certainly crisscrossed Nevada countless times growing up, and then as a young adult, in cars and on motorcycles.

Every person has a range. In fiction, you get to be it all. I’m as much the men in my book as I am the women. I write how I write and there is no mission to stake a claim.

The VW doesn’t make you think of Hitler and genocide. It’s a breast on wheels, a puffy little dream.