In art, something comes of nothing. Out of the thin air and the ether, you create a story. And that is intensely satisfying.

I can't live for more than four years outside of Canada. I'm Canadian, so ultimately that is my reference point.

We are all born like Catholics, aren't we—in limbo, without religion, until some figure introduces us to God?

Art is a gift: you create and then you give away. How readers receive that gift is their business. If they hate it, that’s their response to it. Others respond by liking it. Either way, that is their interaction with the book, which is no longer mine.

To lose a brother is to lose someone with whom you can share the experience of growing old, who is supposed to bring you a sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, creatures who people the tree of your life and give it new branches. To lose your father is to lose the one whose guidance and help you seek, who supports you like a tree trunk supports its branches. To lose your mother, well, that is like losing the sun above you. It is like losing--I'm sorry, I would rather not go on.

I know zoos are no longer in people's good graces. Religion faces the same problem. Certain illusions about freedom plague them both.

Zoo is an artificial territory, an approximation. Civilization is our natural territory.