The novel is very much alive, indeed. In Toronto at the Sixth Annual International Festival of Authors (October 1985) I listened to novelists by the dozen.
Childhood is a disease - a sickness that you grow out of.
We just got to go on, that's all. That's what grownups would do.
What a man does defiles him, not what is done by others.
How would I myself live in this proposed society? How long would it be before I went stark staring mad?
Then you have people coming up like Malcolm Bradbury, a relatively young writer who deals with the academic scene and deals with it, I think, brilliantly.