Transcript: John Crowley | Mar 28, 1989

In animation, a marble entrance with two columns floating on misty mountains opens up to reveal a small bookshelf. Book covers from the collection flash by, including Cat’s eye by Margaret Atwood and The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie.
The title of the show appears as a book cover with a picture of the marble entrance: “Authors at Harbourfront.”

The Narrator says THE FESTIVAL OF AUTHORS AT
TORONTO'S HARBOURFRONT IS ONE
OF THE WORLD'S FOREMOST
LITERARY EVENTS.
NOW ENTERING ITS TENTH YEAR,
THE FESTIVAL ANNUALLY ATTRACTS
50 OF THE WORLD'S BEST AUTHORS
TO THE STAGE, TO READ FROM
THEIR WORKS AND PARTICIPATE
IN INTERVIEWS AND DISCUSSIONS
WITH THEIR PEERS.

The screen turns as if it were a book page and a male narrator speaks as clips of different authors speaking at Harbourfront flash by.

The Narrator continues JOHN CROWLEY'S WORK
COMBINES ELEMENTS OF
SCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY,
AND MAGIC REALISM.
THE RELEASE IN
1981 OF “LITTLE BIG,”
WON CROWLEY THE NOMINATION
FOR THE HUGO AWARD.
IN THIS PROGRAM CROWLEY
READS FROM “AEGYPT,”
VOLUME ONE, OF A
FOUR VOLUME WORK.

The author’s book appears next to a caption that reads “John Crowley. USA.” On the top right corner of the screen, a paused clip featuring John zooms out.

John Crowley sits on a chair. He is in his mid-fifties, with a white beard and gray hair. He’s wearing a gray jacket, a blue shirt and matching tie.

(guitar music plays)

John says SHAKESPEARE IS
THE WRITER WHOM
I WOULD LIKE TO
MODEL MYSELF ON.
YOU WANT TO HAVE THAT
BREADTH, THAT SIZE,
THAT SCOPE, THAT COMMAND
OF EVERY CONCEIVABLE
SORT OF EMOTION.
AND DICKENS, ANY NOVELIST
COULD SAY, THAT IS THE -
YOU WANT TO HAVE THAT SORT
OF POWER AS A NOVELIST
TO GENERATE DOZENS
OF CHARACTERS AND PLOTS
AND FINISH THEM.

(classical music plays)

A male host says AND NOW PLEASE WELCOME
FROM THE USA, JOHN CROWLEY.

[applause]

John comes to the stage and reads IF EVER SOME POWER WITH
THREE WISHES TO GRANT
WERE TO APPEAR BEFORE PIERCE
MOFFETT, HE OR SHE OR IT,
JINN, FAIRY GODMOTHER,
RING CURIOUSLY INSCRIBED,
WOULD FIND HIM NOT
ENTIRELY UNPREPARED,
BUT NOT ENTIRELY
READY EITHER.
ONCE UPON A TIME THERE
HAD SEEMED TO HIM
NO DIFFICULTY; YOU SIMPLY
USED A THIRD OF YOUR
THREE WISHES TO GAIN
THREE MORE, AND SO ON,
AD INFINITUM.
ONCE UPON A TIME, TOO, YOU
HAD NO COMPUNCTIONS ABOUT
MAKING WISHES THAT WOULD
RESULT IN HORRENDOUS
DISTORTIONS OF HIS OWN
AND OTHERS' UNIVERSES.
THEY COULD CHANGE HEADS
WITH SOMEONE ELSE FOR A DAY.
THAT THE BRITISH COULD HAVE
WON THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.
HE HAD BEEN PROFOUNDLY
ANGLOPHILE AS A CHILD.
THE OCEAN COULD DRY UP
SO THAT HE COULD SEE
FROM ITS SHORE THE FABULOUS
MOUNTAINS AND VALLEYS,
HIGHER AND DEEPER THAN ANY
ON LAND WHICH HE HAD READ
LAY IN ITS DEPTHS.
WITH AN ENDLESS CHAIN
OF WISHES, OF COURSE,
HE COULD THEORETICALLY
REPAIR THE DAMAGE
HE INFLICTED, BUT
AS HE GREW OLDER,
HE CAME TO BE LESS SURE
OF HIS WISDOM AND POWER
TO MAKE ALL THINGS
COME OUT RIGHT.
AND AS THE LESSONS OF THE
DOZENS OF CAUTIONARY TALES
HE READ SANK IN, TALES OF
WISHES HORRIBLY MISUSED,
WISHES TRICKILY TURNED
AGAINST THEIR WISHERS,
MISSPOKEN OR CARELESSLY
FRAMED WISHES TUMBLING
THE GREEDY, THE
THOUGHTLESS, THE STUPID
INTO SELF-MADE ABYSSES.
HE BEGAN TO CONSIDER THE
QUESTION AT MORE LENGTH.
THE MONKEY'S PAW: BRING
BACK MY DEAD SON,
AND THE DREADFUL THING
COME KNOCKING AT THE DOOR.
ALL RIGHT, MAKE
ME A MARTINI.
AND MIDAS, FIRST AND MOST
TERRIBLE EXEMPLAR OF ALL.
IT WAS NOT,
PIERCE DECIDED,
THAT THOSE POWERS WHICH
GRANT WISHES INTEND
OUR DESTRUCTION, OR EVEN
OUR MORAL INSTRUCTION,
THEY ARE ONLY COMPELLED BY
WHATEVER CIRCUMSTANCES
TO DO WHAT WE ASK OF
THEM, NO MORE, NO LESS.
MIDAS WASN'T BEING TAUGHT
A LESSON ABOUT FALSE AND
TRUE VALUES, THE DAEMON
WHO GRANTED HIS WISH KNEW
NOTHING OF SUCH VALUES,
DID NOT KNOW WHY MIDAS
WOULD WANT TO WISH
HIS OWN DESTRUCTION,
AND DIDN'T CARE.
THE WISH WAS GRANTED.
MIDAS EMBRACED HIS WIFE
PERHAPS THE DAEMON
WAS PUZZLED FOR A MOMENT
BY MIDAS' DESPAIR, BUT,
NOT BEING HUMAN HIMSELF,
BEING POWER ONLY,
GAVE IT LITTLE THOUGHT AND
WENT AWAY TO OTHER WISHERS,
WISE OR FOOLISH.
LITERAL-MINDED, DEEPLY STUPID
FROM MAN'S POINT OF VIEW,
STRONG CHILDREN ABLE
THOUGHTLESSLY TO BREAK
THE ORDINARY COURSES
OF THINGS LIKE TOYS,
AND BREAK HUMAN HEARTS TOO
THAT WERE UNWISE ENOUGH
NOT TO KNOW HOW MUCH THEY
LOVED AND NEEDED
THE ORDINARY
COURSES OF THINGS.
SUCH POWERS HAD TO BE
DEALT WITH CAREFULLY.
PIERCE MOFFETT DISCOVERED
IN HIMSELF AS HE GREW OLDER
A STREAK OF CAUTION,
EVEN FEARFULNESS,
COLOURING A MOSTLY
IMPULSIVE AND GREEDY NATURE,
AND SAW THAT HE
WOULD HAVE TO LAY PLANS
IF HE WERE TO ESCAPE HARMLESS
WITH WHAT HE DESIRED.
THERE TURNED OUT TO BE SO
MANY ANGLES TO CONSIDER,
HIS CHANGING DESIRES
EVEN ASIDE - THAT,
A GROWN MAN NOW,
PROFESSOR, HISTORIAN,
HE STILL HADN'T COMPLETED
HIS FORMULATIONS.
THEN THE USELESS, VACANT
SPACES THAT LITTER EVERY LIFE,
IN THE WAITING ROOMS OR
HOLDING PATTERNS OR -
AS ON THIS PARTICULAR
AUGUST MORNING - WHEN HE SAT
STARING OUT THE TINTED WINDOWS
OF A LONG-DISTANCE BUS,
HE OFTEN FOUND HIMSELF
MULLING OVER POSSIBILITIES,
NEGOTIATING TRICKY
TURNS OF PHRASES,
SHARPENING HIS CLAUSES.

(violin music plays)

Back in the interview, John says I DON'T KNOW THE
ORIGINS OF THAT FEELING
THAT YOU CAN HAVE THAT
WE ARE PART OF A STORY,
OR THAT WE ARE EMBODYING A
LONG STORY THAT'S COMING
TO BE OUTSIDE OF US AND
THAT WE ARE HELPING
TO ENACT, AND SO ON.
WHEN I HEAR PEOPLE TALK
ABOUT IT AS THOUGH IT
WERE SO, I FEEL MYSELF
VERY FREQUENTLY
NOT ONLY REPELLED,
BUT EVEN AFRAID.
I MEAN, YOU ENTER INTO
CULT REALITIES THAT
CAN BE KIND OF SCARY.
I DON'T KNOW THE SOURCE
OF THE FEAR EITHER,
BUT IT SEEMED TO ME THAT
I WAS SAFE IN DOING THIS,
BECAUSE, IN FACT, MY
CHARACTERS ARE INSIDE A STORY.
I'M WRITING IT.
SO ABOUT THEM, IT IS
VERY MUCH THE CASE,
AND IN “LITTLE BIG,” THE
FAIRIES IN A CERTAIN SENSE
REPRESENT THE FACT THAT
CHARACTERS INSIDE A BOOK
ARE AT THE MERCY
OF A STORY.
THE VERY END OF THE BOOK
WHEN SMOKEY BARNABLE REALIZES
THAT HE HAS BEEN
IN A STORY AND THAT
THE WAY THAT ALL THE
CHARACTERS WHO HAVE HEADED OUT
TO FIND THE COMPLETION
OF THEIR STORY,
THE WAY THEY ARE GOING
IS IN FACT BACK INTO
THE STORY IN WHICH THEY
BELONG FROM WHICH,
IN A CERTAIN SENSE,
THEY CAN'T ESCAPE.
THAT SUMS UP MY VISION
OF WHAT IT'S LIKE
TO BE INSIDE A STORY.
I HOPE I'M NOT
INSIDE A STORY.

On the stage, John continues reading THERE WERE FEW THINGS
PIERCE LIKED LESS
THAN SUCH LONG
RIDES ON BUSES.
THIS TIME HE HAD TRIED TO
MEET THE AWFUL NECESSITY
HALFWAY, HAVING AN
APPOINTMENT TODAY IN THE CITY
OF CONURBANA, A JOB OFFER AT
PETER RAMUS COLLEGE THERE,
HE HAD DECIDED TO TAKE
THE SLOW UNCROWDED LOCAL
TO TRAVEL IN A
LEISURELY WAY THROUGH
THE FAR AWAY HILLS, HAVE
A GLIMPSE OF PLACES
LONG KNOWN TO HIM BY
NAME, BUT STILL
MORE OR LESS IMAGINARY.
AT LEAST TO GET OUT INTO
THE COUNTRY FOR A DAY,
FOR SURE HE
NEEDED A BREAK.
AND IT DID SEEM TO HIM, AS THE
BUS LEFT THE EXPRESSWAY,
AS IT CARRIED HIM
INTO SUMMER LANDS,
THAT HE HAD
CHOSEN RIGHTLY;
HE FELT SUDDENLY ABLE TO
SHED BY SHEER MOTION
A STATE OF HIMSELF THAT
HAD BECOME BINDING AND
FLAVOURLESS, AND ENTER INTO
ANOTHER, OR MANY OTHERS,
LIKE THESE SCENES NOW
BEING SHOWN TO HIM ONE
BY ONE, EACH SEEMING
TO BE A THRESHOLD
OF HAPPY POSSIBILITIES.
HE ROLLED A
CIGARETTE AND LIT IT.
THE FIRST TWO OF HIS THREE
WISHES - AND OF COURSE
THERE WOULD BE THREE;
PIERCE HAD STUDIED THE
TRIADS THAT CLUSTER
EVERYWHERE IN NORTHERN
MYTHOLOGY - WHENCE IT
SEEMED MOST LIKELY HIS
FORTUNE WOULD COME - AND
HAD HIS OWN IDEAS AS TO
WHY IT HAD BE THREE AND
NOT MORE OR FEWER - HAD
FOR SOME TIME BEEN IN
THEIR PRESENT FORM.
THEY SEEMED AIRTIGHT,
CLINKER-BUILT,
FOOLPROOF TO HIM; HE HAD
EVEN RECOMMENDED THEM
TO OTHERS, LIKE
STANDARD LEGAL FORMS.
HE WISHED, FIRST OF ALL,
FOR THE LIFELONG AND
LONG-LIVED MENTAL AND
PHYSICAL HEALTH AND
SAFETY OF HIMSELF AND
THOSE WHOM HE LOVED,
NOTHING ELSE TO BE ASKED
FOR IN A SUBSEQUENT
WISH TO ABROGATE THIS.
SOMETHING OF A
PORTMANTEAU WISH,
BUT AN ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY
PIECE OF CAUTION, CONSIDERING.
NEXT HE WISHED
FOR AN INCOME,
NOT BURDENSOMELY
IMMENSE BUT SUFFICIENT,
SAFE FROM THE FLUCTUATIONS
OF ECONOMIC LIFE,
REQUIRING NEXT TO NO
ATTENTION ON HIS PART
AND NOT DISTORTING
HIS NATURAL CAREER:
A WINNING LOTTERY TICKET,
ALONG WITH SOME CAREFUL
INVESTMENT ADVICE, BEING
MORE THE IDEA THAN, SAY,
HAVING SOME BOOK HE MIGHT
WRITE THRUST MAGICALLY
ONTO THE BEST-SELLER LIST
WITH ALL THE ATTENDANT
TALK-SHOW AND INTERVIEW
BUSINESS, AWFUL.
WHATEVER PLEASURE HE MIGHT
HAVE IN SUCH FAME AND FORTUNE
SPOILED BY HIS KNOWLEDGE
THAT IT WAS FAKE.
THAT WOULD BE SELLING
HIS SOUL TO THE DEVIL,
WHICH BY DEFINITION
WORKS OUT BADLY;
NO, HE WANTED SOMETHING
MUCH MORE NEUTRAL.
WHICH LEFT ONE MORE,
THE THIRD WISH,
THE ODD ONE, THE
ROGUE WISH.
PIERCE SHUDDERED TO THINK
WHAT WOULD HAVE BECOME OF HIM
IF ONE OR ANOTHER OF
ADOLESCENT VERSIONS OF
THIS WISH HAD
BEEN GRANTED;
AT LATER TIMES IN HIS LIFE
HE WOULD HAVE WASTED IT
GETTING HIMSELF OUT OF
JAMS AND TROUBLES WHICH
HE HAD GOT OUT OF ANYWAY
WITHOUT A WISH'S HELP.

The audience listens carefully.

He continues AND EVEN IF, NOW, HE COULD
DECIDE WHAT HE WANTED,
WHICH HE HAD NEVER
FINALLY DONE,
WISDOM WOULD BE NEEDED,
AND COURAGE, AND WITS;
HERE WAS DANGER, AND THE
CHANCE FOR STRANGE BLISS.
THE THIRD WISH WAS THE
WORLD-CHANGING ONE
OF THE TRIAD, AND IT WAS
HEDGED AROUND IN HIS MIND
WITH STRICTURES, TABOOS,
IMPERATIVES MORAL
AND CATEGORICAL: BECAUSE, FOR
PIERCE MOFFETT ANYWAY,
THIS GAME WAS NO
FUN UNLESS ALL
THE CONSEQUENCES OF ANY
TENTATIVE THIRD WISH COULD BE
TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT;
UNLESS HE COULD IMAGINE,
WITH GREAT AND
TRUE VIVIDNESS,
WHAT IT WOULD REALLY BE
LIKE TO HAVE IT COME TRUE.
WORLD PEACE AND SUCHLIKE
ENORMOUS ALTRUISMS
HE HAD LONG DISMISSED AS
UNWORKABLE OR WORSE,
AT BOTTOM SOLIPSISTIC
DELUSIONS OF THE MIDAS KIND,
ONLY UNSELFISH
INSTEAD OF SELFISH:
OBVERSE OF THE SAME
COUNTERFEIT COIN.
NO, WHATEVER DESTINY
A MAN'S THREE WISHES
COMPELLED HIM TO, HILARIOUS
OR TRAGIC OR SWEET,
IT WAS HIS DESTINY,
AS THEY WERE HIS WISHES:
HE SHOULD LEAVE THE WORLD
ALONE TO WISH ITS OWN.
POWER: NOW, THERE WAS A
SENSE IN WHICH, OF COURSE,
ALL WISHING WAS
WISHING FOR POWER,
POWER OVER THE ORDINARY
CIRCUMSTANCES OF LIFE
ONE IS SUBJECT TO; BUT THAT
WAS A DIFFERENT MATTER
FROM ACTUALLY WISHING FOR
POWER IN THE NARROWER SENSE.
STRENGTH, SUBJECTION OF
OTHERS TO YOUR WILL,
YOUR ENEMIES
YOUR FOOTSTOOL.
THIS WHOLE HUGE FIELD
OF HUMAN DESIRE
WAS IN, SOME WAY,
ALIEN TO PIERCE.
POWER HAD NEVER FIGURED
IN HIS DAYDREAMS.
HE COULD SOMEHOW NEVER
MANAGE TO IMAGINE POWER
VERY VIVIDLY IN
HIS OWN HANDS,
BUT ONLY AS IT MIGHT
BE USED AGAINST HIM;
FREEDOM FROM POWER WAS HIS
ONLY TRUE WISH IN THIS LINE,
AND NEGATIVE WISHES
HAD ALWAYS SEEMED TO HIM MEAN.
LOVE.
PIERCE MOFFETT HAD BEEN
BOTH LUCKY AND UNLUCKY
IN LOVE, HIS LUCK GOOD AND
BAD WAS AMONG THE CAUSES
OF HIS BEING ON THIS BUS
NOW THROUGH THE FARAWAY HILLS.
I SHOULD SAY THAT FARAWAY
HILLS IS A GEOGRAPHICAL
PLACE, NOT AN
ADJECTIVE AND A NOUN.
FARAWAY HILLS, LOVE TOOK
UP THE GREATER PART
OF HIS DAYDREAMING
ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.
AND NO MORE THAN ANY MAN
WAS HE ABLE NOT TO TOY
WITH THOUGHTS OF
HYPNOTIC POWERS,
UNREFUSABLE CHARMS, THE
WORLD HIS HAREM -
OR, CONVERSELY, OF A SINGLE
PERFECT BEING SHAPED
EXACTLY TO HIS WANTS,
OF THE KIND THAT LONELY
ACADEMICS DESCRIBED AT
SUCH SELF-REVEALING LENGTH
IN THE PERSONAL COLUMNS
OF CERTAIN JOURNALS
PIERCE SUBSCRIBED TO.
[chuckling]
BUT NO, IT WAS NO GOOD
USING HIS THIRD WISH TO
COMPEL THE HEART.
IT WAS WRONG.
WORSE, IT WOULDN'T WORK.
THERE WAS NO JOY PIERCE
KNEW LIKE THE JOY OF
FINDING HIMSELF FREELY
CHOSEN BY THE OBJECT
OF HIS DESIRE, NO JOY
EVEN REMOTELY LIKE IT.
THE ASTONISHED
GRATIFICATION OF IT,
THE SUDDEN CERTAINTY AS
THOUGH A HAWK HAD CHOSEN
TO FALL OUT OF THE SKY
AND SETTLE ON HIS WRIST,
STILL WILD, STILL
FREE, BUT HIS.
WHO COULD.
WHO COULD COMPEL THAT?
THE CLOSED HEARTS
OF CALL-GIRLS,
THE GLUM FACES OF
LAST-CHANCE PICKUPS:
PIERCE DRUNK OR COKED
ENOUGH COULD PRETEND
FOR AN HOUR OR A NIGHT,
AS THEY COULD.
BUT.
AND IF HAWKS FLEW THEN,
CHOOSING TO FLY AS THEY
HAD CHOSEN TO ALIGHT, AND
IF HE FAILED TO UNDERSTAND WHY
WELL, HE HADN'T
UNDERSTOOD WHY THEY
ALIGHTED IN THE
FIRST PLACE, HAD HE?
AND THAT WAS, THAT
MUST BE ALL RIGHT,
IF ONE WERE GOING TO LOVE
HAWKS IN THE FIRST PLACE.
GENTLE HAWKS,
KIND, UNKIND.
HOW KALAKUTAS.
I WISH, HE THOUGHT,
I WISH, I WISH...

(music plays)

In the interview, John says I THINK THAT THE MORAL
IMPULSE IN WRITING,
THE IDEA THAT WHAT YOU
ARE GOING TO DO IS -
THAT WHAT YOU ARE DOING IS
NOT WORTH VERY MUCH UNLESS
IT HAS - UNLESS A MORAL
DIMENSION CAN BE EXTRACTED
FROM IT, IS REALLY ALL
GOES BACK TO PLATO.
I MEAN, WHO SAID,
DON'T BOTHER,
JUST TELL THE TRUTH.
IT'S A TRICK TO TRY TO
EMBODY IT IN THESE STORIES.
THE STORY THAT JUST LIES, JUST
TELL THE TRUTH ABOUT THINGS.
BUT EVER SINCE THEN
IT'S BEEN GOING ON.
PEOPLE SAYING, NO,
NO, NO, STORIES -
WE'RE NOT ADDICTED
TO STORIES.
IN FACT, THEY ARE TELLING US
MORAL TRUTHS IF WE COULD
JUST TRANSLATE THE
STORIES INTO MORAL TRUTH,
IT'D HELP DIRECT
OUR LIVES.
THE TROUBLE IS THAT MORAL
TRUTHS ALMOST INEVITABLY
THAT ARE EXTRACTED FROM
ARE ALWAYS PLATITUDES.
WE SHOULD BE
NICER TO PEOPLE.
WE SHOULD BE
MORE HUMANE.
WE SHOULD - YOU
KNOW, SO ON AND SO ON.
SO, NO, IT'S NOT SOMETHING
THAT INTRIGUES ME.
THERE ARE POWERFUL
ALLEGORIES,
BUT THEY ARE POWERFUL BECAUSE
THEY ARE POWERFUL STORIES,
NOT BECAUSE THEY
TELL US TRUTHS
Laughing, he concludes WHICH MOST
OF US ALREADY KNOW
ANYWAY, OR OUGHT TO.

Standing on the stage, John reads UP UNTIL THIS SUMMER,
PIERCE MOFFETT HAD TAUGHT
HISTORY AND LITERATURE
AT A SMALL NEW YORK CITY
COLLEGE, ONE OF THOSE
INSTITUTIONS WHICH FOLLOW
IN THE UPHEAVALS OF
THE SIXTIES HAD COME
TO CATER CHIEFLY TO
THE SEARCHING YOUNG.
THE SCHOLAR-GYPSIES WHO
HAD SEEMED THEN TO BE
FORMING INTO A COLOURFUL
NOMADIC CULTURE OF THEIR OWN.
BEDOUINS CAMPING
WITHIN THE BUSTLE
OF THE LARGER SOCIETY,
STRIKING THEIR TENTS
AND MOVING ON WHEN
THREATENED WITH
THE ENCROACHMENTS
OF CIVILIZATION.
BARNABAS COLLEGE HAD COME
TO BE A CARAVANSERAI OF THEIRS,
AND PIERCE HAD FOR A TIME
BEEN A POPULAR TEACHER.
HIS CHIEF COURSE, HISTORY
101 - NICKNAMED MYSTERY 101
BY HIS STUDENTS - HAD
BEEN HEAVILY SUBSCRIBED
AT THE BEGINNINGS
OF PAST SEMESTERS;
HE HAD THE KNACK OF
SEEMING TO HAVE A GREAT,
A TERRIFIC SECRET TO IMPART
TO THEM ON HIS SUBJECT,
A STORY TO TELL THAT
HAD COST PIERCE HIMSELF
NOT A LITTLE
IN THE LEARNING,
IF THEY WOULD ONLY
SIT STILL TO HEAR IT.
LATELY, IT WAS TRUE,
FEWER AND FEWER HAD BEEN
STICKING TO THE END;
BUT THAT WAS NOT,
OR NOT CHIEFLY, THE REASON
PIERCE WOULD NOT BE RETURNING
TO BARNABAS COLLEGE
IN THE FALL.
PETER RAMUS COLLEGE,
WHERE HE HAD BEEN HEADED,
WAS A RATHER
DIFFERENT AFFAIR,
AS FAR AS HE COULD
JUDGE; AN AGED HUGUENOT
FOUNDATION THAT STILL
ENFORCED A DRESS CODE,
SO HE HAD BEEN TOLD;
IT COULDN'T BE SO,
INHABITING SMOKED STONE
BUILDINGS IN THE SUBURBS
OF A DECLINING CITY.
ITS PICTURE WAS ON
THE DEAN'S LETTER,
WHICH PIERCE NOW PULLED,
SOMEWHAT CRUMPLED
AND SWEAT-STAINED,
FROM HIS POCKET,
THE LETTER INVITING HIM
FOR AN INTERVIEW THERE;
A LITTLE STEEL ENGRAVING
OF A DOMED BUILDING
LIKE A COURTHOUSE OR A
CHRISTIAN SCIENCE CHURCH.
PIERCE COULD IMAGINE THE
NEW POURED-CONCRETE DORMS
AND LABS IT WAS
NOW IMMURED IN.
BELOW THE PICTURE WAS THE
COLLEGE'S PHONE NUMBER.
A TIN SIGN
ADVERTISING BREAD,
THE BLOND GIRL AND HER
BUTTERED SLICE MUCH FADED,
WAS ATTACHED TO THE SCREEN
DOOR OF THE LITTLE STORE;
PIERCE HADN'T GONE THROUGH
SUCH A DOOR WITH SUCH
A SIGN ON IT IN YEARS.
AND INSIDE THE STORE WAS THAT
COOL AND NAMELESS ODOUR,
SOMETHING LIKE NAPHTHA AND
RAISINS AND COOKIE CRUMBS,
WHICH IS THE ETERNAL SMELL
OF STORES LIKE THIS ONE;
STORES IN THE CITY WHICH
SOLD MUCH THE SAME GOODS
NEVER SEEMED TO HAVE IT.
PIERCE FELT SWEPT INTO THE
PAST AS HE DIALED THE NUMBER.

(classical music plays)

Sitting, John says WHEN I, IN BEGINNING TO
THINK ABOUT THE FIRST NOVEL
I EVER WROTE, I
HAD STOPPED WRITING.
I HAD WRITTEN ALL MY LIFE
WHEN I WAS A KID BUT
STOPPED WRITING, TURNED
TO PHOTOGRAPHY AND FILMS,
AND ONLY SOMEWHERE AROUND
THE LATE SIXTIES DID
I START THINKING ABOUT
WRITING A BOOK.
I WAS SITTING AROUND
THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE,
THE FAR DISTANT FUTURE,
THOUSANDS OF YEARS,
SO I THOUGHT,
INTO THE FUTURE,
JUST AS AN OCCUPATION IN
MY MIND, AN OBSESSION.
I SAID, WELL, AS LONG AS
I'M SPENDING ALL MY TIME
DOING THIS, WHY NOT WRITE
IT DOWN, AND I DID,
AND ACTUALLY GOT TO THE
END OF IT AND REALIZED
I HAD WRITTEN A BOOK.
AND THEN, REALIZED I HAD
WRITTEN A SCIENCE FICTION NOVEL.
I HADN'T READ SCIENCE
FICTION SINCE I WAS A KID.
THE OLD CHESTNUT ABOUT THE
GOLDEN AGE OF SCIENCE FICTION
IS 12, AND THAT WAS ABOUT
WHEN I HAD LEFT OFF
READING SCIENCE FICTION,
SOMEWHERE IN THE FIFTIES.
I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT I
HAD COME UPON COMMONPLACE
TROPES OF SCIENCE FICTION,
A KIND OF FUTURE
THAT WAS NOT IN SCIENCE FICTION
WHEN I HAD LAST READ IT,
BUT HAD COME TO BE IN
SCIENCE FICTION DURING
THIS PERIOD WHEN I
WASN'T READING IT.
ONCE I HAD WRITTEN
THE SCIENCE FICTION,
ONCE I REALIZED
WHAT I HAD DONE,
I ALSO REALIZED THAT - OR
WAS TOLD SOON ENOUGH -
THAT THE BOOK I HAD
WRITTEN WAS UNPUBLISHABLE.
BUT SINCE I HAD WRITTEN -
AT LEAST COME TO THE END
OF ONE, I WAS, WELL, THIS
IS MAYBE A GOOD WAY
TO MAKE A LIVING.
AND BY THEN I HAD READ A
LITTLE SCIENCE FICTION
AND REALIZED THAT YOU
COULD REALLY WRITE.
THIS ISN'T THE GREAT DAYS
OF THE LATE SIXTIES WHEN
ANY SORT OF BOOK AT ALL,
SO LONG AS IT WAS SET ON
ANOTHER PLANET OR HAD SOME
MYSTERIOUS ECOLOGICAL
DISASTER OR SOMETHING,
COULD BE CLASSIFIED AS
SCIENCE FICTION, WHEN ANNA
KAVAN WAS BEING PUBLISHED
AS SCIENCE FICTION.
AND I WROTE ANOTHER
NOVEL AND IT GOT SOLD,
SO THEN I WAS HOOKED.
THEN I REALIZED, I MIGHT
EVEN EVENTUALLY
SOME DAY BE ABLE TO MAKE
A LIVING DOING THIS.

At the reading, John continues NO ONE WOULD RESCHEDULE
HIS APPOINTMENT,
BUT HE DIDN'T CARE
CANCEL IT OUTRIGHT;
HE LEFT A NUMBER OF
VAGUE MESSAGES THAT WERE
ONLY HALF-HEARTEDLY
ACCEPTED.
SAID HE WOULD CALL
AGAIN FROM CASCADIA,
AND HUNG UP IN LIMBO.
BY THE FRONT COUNTER OF
THE STORE HE FOUND
A SODA COOLER, ONE OF THE
SARCOPHAGUS KIND THAT HAD
USED TO STAND IN DELMONT'S
STORE IN HIS OLD HOMETOWN:
THAT SAME DARK RED, WITH A
HEAVY LID LINED WITH ZINC,
AND INSIDE A DARK POOL OF
ICE AND WATER AND COLD BOTTLES
THAT CLANKED
CAVERNOUSLY TOGETHER
WHEN HE CHOSE ONE.
HE TOOK A PAIR OF DARK
GLASSES FROM A CARD OF
THEM THAT HELD POSTCARDS;
HE CONSIDERED BUYING
A COPY OF THE LOCAL
PAPER, ALSO PILED THERE,
BUT DID NOT.
IT WAS CALLED
THE
FARAWAY CRIER.
HE PAID FOR THE COKE
AND THE GLASSES,
SMILING AT THE PLACID
CHILD WHO TOOK HIS MONEY
AS SHE SMILED FOR HIM, AND
WENT BACK INTO THE DAY,
FEELING WEIRDLY
AT LIBERTY,
AS THOUGH HE HAD
BEEN SET ASHORE,
OR HAD STRUGGLED
ASHORE.
HE DONNED HIS
NEW DARK GLASSES,
WHICH TURNED THE DAY EVEN
MORE INTO A LANDSCAPE
BY CLAUDE, AMBER-TONED
AND RICHLY DARK: SERENE.
HE HAD BROKEN HIS JOURNEY,
AND WITH A LOT MAYBE
AT STAKE, AND A LOT NO DOUBT
TO PAY FOR IT IN TEDIUM
OR WORSE; IT DIDN'T MATTER,
HE COULDN'T FOR THE MOMENT CARE,
SINCE HE NEITHER
MUCH DESIRE TO GO WHERE
HE HAD BEEN HEADED, NOR
MUCH DESIRE TO RETURN
WHERE HE HAD
STARTED OUT FROM.
IF HE WANTED ANYTHING, IT
WAS SIMPLY TO SIT HERE
AT THIS WOODEN PICNIC
TABLE IN THE SHADE,
TO BE NOT IN MOTION, TO
SIP THIS COKE AND
THE DEEP PEACE OF WHAT SEEMED
A STILL AND UNIVERSAL HOLIDAY.
SERENITY: NOW YOU
COULD WISH FOR THAT,
NAMING NO CONDITIONS; A
PERMANENT INNER VACATION,
ESCAPE MADE GOOD.
TO SOMEHOW HAVE THIS
MOTIONLESSNESS WHICH
HE DREW IN WITH THE SWEET
AIR HE INHALED FOR
HIS INWARD WEATHER ALWAYS.
WELL, THERE WERE PROBLEMS
TOO WITH WISHING FOR
MORAL QUALITIES, SERENITY,
LARGE-MINDEDNESS.
THE INTERDICTION, WHICH
PIERCE THOUGHT OBVIOUS,
AGAINST WISHING FOR
SUCH THINGS AS ARTISTIC
ABILITIES - SIT
DOWN AT THE PIANO,
THE APPASSIONATA FLOWS
SUDDENLY FROM YOUR
FINGERTIPS - APPLIED
IN A WAY TO WISDOM TOO,
TO ENLIGHTENMENT,
TO HEART-KNOWLEDGE,
USELESS UNLESS EARNED, THE
EARNING OF IT BEING
NO DOUBT ALL THAT
IT CONSISTED OF.
THE BEST THING.
PIERCE BREATHED DEEPLY.
HE HAD COME TO THESE
CONCLUSIONS BEFORE.
THE BEST THING WOULD
SIMPLY BE TO REFUSE
THE OFFER ALTOGETHER.
THANKS BUT NO THANKS.
SURELY HE WAS ALREADY WISE
ENOUGH - OR AT LEAST
WELL-READ ENOUGH - TO
KNOW THAT THERE WAS
VERY LIKELY SOME CORROSIVE
TO COMMON HAPPINESS
IN THE VERY NATURE
OF GRANTED WISHES.
HE DID KNOW IT.
AND YET...
HE COULD ONLY HOPE THAT
WHEN THE WISHES CAME
HE WOULD BE WISE, AND NOT
YEARNING; IN GOOD CASE;
NOT TRANSFIXED BY SOME
OBJECT OF DESIRE;
NOT IN SOME DREADFUL
CIRCUMSTANCE FROM WHICH
HE DESPERATELY
NEEDED RELIEF;
NOT, IN OTHER
WORDS, JUST NOW.
THEN, EVEN IF HE COULD
NOT REFUSE ALTOGETHER,
HE MIGHT AT LEAST BE ABLE
TO TAKE THE NEXT-WISEST
COURSE, AN OPTION HE HAD
LONG SINCE WORKED OUT THAT
WAS SENSIBLE, USUALLY ALL
TOO SENSIBLE FOR HIM:
AND THAT WAS, HIS FIRST TO
PRACTICAL WISHES FOR
HEALTH AND WEALTH HAVING
BEEN ASKED AND GRANTED,
TO USE HIS THIRD WISH
SIMPLY TO WISH THAT
HE COULD FORGET THE
WHOLE HAD EVER HAPPENED;
HIS SAFETY AND EASE
MAGICALLY ASSURED,
TO FORGET HE HAD EVER
KNOWN WISHES COULD BE
GRANTED, TO BE RETURNED
TO HIS PRESENT STATE OF
IGNORANCE THAT SUCH
IRRUPTIONS OF POWER INTO
THE WORLD, POWER PLACED
AT HIS UNWISE DISPOSAL,
WERE REALLY TRULY
POSSIBLE AT ALL.
REALLY TRULY ACTUALLY
POSSIBLE AT ALL.
PIERCE DRANK COKE.
FROM A SIDE ROAD
BEYOND THE CHURCH,
A SHEEP WANDERED OUT
ONTO THE HIGHWAY.
AND OF COURSE IT COULD BE
THAT JUST SUCH A THING
HAD ALREADY HAPPENED.
THAT WISEST SET OF WISHES
MIGHT RIGHT NOW BE IN
THE WORKS, ALREADY GRANTED,
THE GENIE HAVING RETREATED
INTO HIS LAMP AND THE LAMP
INTO THE PAST AND
THE WHOLE PROCESS
INTO OBLIVION,
PIERCE IGNORANT NOW OF HIS
GREAT GOOD FORTUNE
AND STILL TOYING
WITH POSSIBILITIES.
ON THE FACE OF IT
IT SEEMED UNLIKELY,
CONSIDERING HIS
JOBLESSNESS,
AND HIS MENTAL HEALTH,
WHICH DID NOT SEEM TO HIM
RUDDY - BUT THERE WOULD
BE NO WAY TO TELL.
HE COULD HAVE BEEN VISITED
THIS VERY MORNING.
THIS DAY, THIS BLUE DAY,
MIGHT BE THE FIRST DAY
OF HIS FORTUNE.
THIS MOMENT MIGHT
BE THE FIRST MOMENT.

John says THERE WAS A BRITISH WOMAN
WHO REVIEWED “LITTLE BIG.”
AND HER REVIEW ABOUT IT,
SHE SAID SOMETHING
REALLY TERRIFIC
ABOUT THIS QUESTION.
SHE SAID THAT THE
JUDGMENTS THAT YOU MAKE
ON GENRE LITERATURE ARE
NOT BASED ON WHETHER
THE AUTHOR CAME TO
NEW CONCLUSIONS,
BUT THE URGENCY OF HIS
EFFORTS TO COME
TO THE USUAL
CONCLUSIONS.
[chuckles]
WHICH I THINK
IS REALLY TRUE,
AND WHEN YOU GET THAT
ENERGY PUT INTO -
AND YOU KNOW HOW IT'S
GOING TO COME OUT.
AND WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN ONE THAT SEEMS
URGENT WHERE THE HERO
REALLY SEEMS AT RISK
AND DOING SOMETHING REALLY
INGENIOUS AND TERRIFIC
THAT YOU COULDN'T HAVE
IMAGINED HE WAS
CAPABLE OF DOING,
JUST THE USUAL STORY?
I MEAN, IT'S
NOTHING DIFFERENT,
BUT HE BRINGS IT OFF.
I SUPPOSE THAT IT'S THE
SAME IN MYSTERY NOVELS
AND OTHER KINDS OF GENRES
WHICH HAVE THAT MYTHIC
QUALITY OF THE STANDARD
OBSTACLES PUT UP AND
KNOCKED DOWN AND THE
STANDARD CONCLUSIONS COME TO.

John continues reading SEVERAL MORE SHEEP HAD
COME OUT FROM THE SIDE ROAD
AND WERE WANDERING
ALONG THE HIGHWAY,
HUDDLING AND BLEATING.
ONE OF THE LOCALS FROM
THE PORCH WHO HAD SEEMED
IMMOVABLE GOT UP,
HITCHED HIS PANTS,
AND WALKED OUT ON THE
HIGHWAY TO STOP TRAFFIC,
WAVING A WARNING HAND AT A
PICKUP THAT WAS JUST
THEN APPROACHING, STAY
THERE, BE PATIENT.
A DOG CIRCLED THE FLOCK,
BARKING NOW AND THEN IN
A PEREMPTORY WAY, GUIDING
THE SHEEP, FOR THERE WERE
DOZENS NOW, MORE AND MORE
COMING OUT FROM THE SIDE
ROAD AS THOUGH CONJURED,
TOWARDS THE BRIDGE OVER
THE RIVER, WHICH THEY
SEEMED RELUCTANT TO ENTER UPON.
THEN THERE STRODE OUT,
AMID THE REAR GUARD OF
THE FLOCK, A TALL SHEPHERD,
CROOK IN HIS HAND,
BROAD BROKEN
STRAW ON HIS HEAD.
HE LOOKED TOWARD THE
IMPATIENT PICKUP,
GRINNING, AS THOUGH NOT
DISPLEASED TO HAVE CAUSED
THIS FUSS; HE CROOKED BACK
INTO HIS FOLD A LAMB
THAT HAD THOUGHT TO FLEE,
AND MARSHALED HIS CHARGES
WITH A CALL, BUSTLING
THEM OVER THE BRIDGE.
PIERCE WATCHED, AWARE OF
A CHAIN OF ASSOCIATIONS
TAKING PLACE WITHIN HIM
WITHOUT HIS CHOOSING,
INNER FILES BEING GONE
THROUGH TO A PURPOSE
HE DIDN'T KNOW.
THEN THE CONCLUSION WAS
ABRUPTLY HANDED TO HIM.
HE ROSE SLOWLY, NOT SURE
WHETHER TO BELIEVE HIMSELF.
THEN, SPOFFORD, HE SAID,
AND CALLED: SPOFFORD.
THE SHEPHERD TURNED,
TILTING HIS HAT UP TO
SEE PIERCE HURRYING AFTER HIM,
AND ONE BLACK-FACED SHEEP
TURNED TOO TO LOOK.
THE DRIVER OF THE BUS,
COMING OUT OF THE LITTLE STORE
TO GATHER AND COUNT
HIS BELATED FLOCK,
SAW ONE OF THE
PASSENGERS WANDER OFF,
MEET THE SHEPHERD IN THE
MIDDLE OF THE BRIDGE,
AND FALL SUDDENLY
INTO HIS ARMS.
PIERCE MOFFETT,
THE SHEPHERD SAID,
HOLDING HIM AT ARM'S
LENGTH AND GRINNING AT HIM.
I'LL BE DAMNED!
IT IS YOU,
PIERCE SAID.
I THOUGHT IT WAS.
YOU COME TO VISIT?
HARD TO BELIEVE.
NOT EXACTLY, PIERCE SAID,
I DIDN'T EVEN PLAN TO STOP.
HE EXPLAINED HIS
PREDICAMENT, CONURBANA,
THROWN ROD, CANCELLED
APPOINTMENT.
HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT,
SPOFFORD SAID, BUSWRECKED.
I SEEM TO HAVE BLOWN IT,
PIERCE SAID, CHEERFULLY.
THEY BOTH LOOKED TOWARD
THE BEACHED BUS,
WHOSE OTHER PASSENGERS
MILLED AIMLESSLY AROUND IT.
HELL WITH IT, SPOFFORD
SAID SUDDENLY.
LEAVE IT.
COME VISIT.
I'M NOT FAR AWAY.
STAY FOR AWHILE.
THERE'S ROOM.
STAY AS LONG
AS YOU LIKE.
PIERCE LOOKED FROM THE BUS
TO THE MEADOW ACROSS
THE RIVER, WHERE NOW THE
SHEEP WERE SPREADING OUT,
CHEWING CONTENTEDLY.
STAY? HE SAID.
WE'VE GOT TO CATCH UP,
SAID THE SHEPHERD.
THE OLD ALMA MATER.
THE OLD NEIGHBOURHOOD.
I'VE LEFT THEM BOTH.
NO SHIT.
HE GESTURED WITH HIS CROOK
UP THE LANDS BEYOND
THE RISE OF THE MOUNTAIN.
MY PLACE IS UP, HE SAID,
AROUND THE MOUNTAIN.
WHAT THE HELL ANYWAY,
PIERCE THOUGHT.
A RUNAWAY MOOD HAD BEEN
IN HIM ALL DAY, A WEEK;
ALL SUMMER FOR
THAT MATTER.
HE HAD GOT THIS FAR TOWARD
DUTY AND THE FUTURE AND
BEEN THROWN OFF COURSE,
NO FAULT OF HIS OWN.
OKAY, SO BE IT.
WHAT THE HELL, HE SAID,
A STRANGE AND SUDDEN
EXHILARATION RISING FROM
HIS BREAST TO HIS THROAT.
WHAT THE HELL, WHY NOT.
SURE, SPOFFORD SAID.
HE WHISTLED A NOTE THAT
SET THE SHEEP IN MOTION
AND TOOK PIERCE'S
ARM; PIERCE LAUGHED,
THE DOG BARKED, THE
WHOLE STRAGGLING LINE
OF THEM LEFT TOWN.
THIS SPOFFORD HAD ONCE,
SOME YEARS BEFORE,
BEEN PIERCE'S STUDENT; HE
HAD IN FACT BEEN AMONG
PIERCE'S FIRST STUDENTS
AT BARNABAS COLLEGE,
TRYING OUT EDUCATION
ON THE G.I. BILL OR
ITS VIETNAM EQUIVALENT.
PIERCE REMEMBERED HIM
SITTING IN HISTORY ONE
EARNEST AND ATTENTIVE
IN HIS FATIGUE JACKET.
SPOFFORD ON THE WHITE
TAPE OVER HIS BREAST
POCKET, SEEMING DISPLACED
AND UNLIKELY THERE.
HE WAS ONLY THREE OR FOUR
YEARS YOUNGER THAN PIERCE,
WHOSE FIRST REAL GIG THAT
WAS - “GIG” THEY CALLED IT
IN THOSE DAYS; PIERCE HAD
BEEN DOING A LONG GIG IN
GRADUATE SCHOOL WHILE SPOFFORD
DID HIS GIG IN VIETNAM.
WITH THE SAME G.I. MONEY,
SPOFFORD HAD OPENED
A SMALL JOINERY SHOP
IN PIERCE'S LOW-RENT
NEIGHBOURHOOD DOING SPARE
FINE PIECES WITH A
SKILL THAT PIERCE ENVIED
AND ENJOYED WATCHING.
THEY'D BECOME FRIENDS,
HAD EVEN BRIEFLY SHARED
A GIRLFRIEND - QUITE
LITERALLY ONE NIGHT,
A NIGHT TO REMEMBER - AND
THOUGH RADICALLY DIFFERENT
IN MANY WAYS, HAD,
WHILE DRIFTING AWAY
FROM EACH OTHER, NEVER
QUITE DRIFTED APART.
SPOFFORD SOON QUIT SCHOOL,
AND THEN THE CITY,
TAKING HIS SKILLS BACK
TO HIS NATIVE COUNTRY,
AND PIERCE WOULD NOW AND
THEN GET A LETTER
IN SPOFFORD'S MINUSCULE AND
PERFECTLY LEGIBLE HAND,
NOTING HIS PROGRESS AND
INVITING PIERCE TO VISIT.
AND HERE AT LAST HE WAS.
SPOFFORD,
NUT-BROWN AND HALE,
RAGGED STRAW HAT AND
CROOK, LOOKED WELL, SUITED;
PIERCE FELT A SURGE OF
SOMETHING LIKE GRATITUDE.
THE STREETS OF THE CITY
WERE LITTERED WITH SPOFFORDS
WHO HAD NOT ESCAPED.
WHEN SPOFFORD GRINNED
SIDELONG AT PIERCE - NO
DOUBT ASSESSING PIERCE IN
RETURN - HIS TEETH SHONE
WHITE IN HIS BIG FACE,
SAVE FOR ONE CENTRAL UPPER,
DEAD AND GRAY.
SO HERE YOU ARE, HE SAID,
OFFERING HIS WORLD
WITH A SWEEP OF HIS ARM.
PIERCE LOOKED
OVER WHERE HE WAS.
THEY HAD ASCENDED THE
MEADOWS OF A TALL HILL'S
FOLDED BASIS; ITS WOODED
HEIGHTS ROSE BESIDE THEM.
THE VALLEY AND ITS
TWINKLING RIVER LAY BELOW.
THERE IS ALMOST A MUSIC
IN SUCH SUMMER VIEWS,
AN AIRY EXHALATION
OF SOPRANO VOICES;
PIERCE DIDN'T KNOW WHETHER
THE MUSIC WHICH ALWAYS
USED TO ACCOMPANY THE
OPENING SCENES OF PASTORAL
CARTOONS, DISNEY'S
ESPECIALLY, MUSIC THAT THE
ANIMATED HILLS AND TREES
SANG, DANCING LIGHTLY,
WAS A TRANSCRIPTION OF
THIS MUSIC HE SEEMED NOW
TO HEAR, OR WHETHER
THIS MUSIC WAS ONLY
HIS OWN MEMORY OF THAT.
HE LAUGHED TO HEAR IT.
NICE, HE SAID.
WHAT RIVER IS THAT?
THE BLACKBERRY,
SPOFFORD SAID.
NICE, SAID PIERCE.
THE BLACKBERRY.
THE DOG, ROVER THE DROVER,
BARKED IMPATIENTLY FROM
ON AHEAD, HIS FOUR-LEGGED
CHARGES WERE
GETTING ON ALL RIGHT.
HIS TALL ONES
WERE MALINGERING.
ARE THESE GUYS YOURS, BY
THE WAY? PIERCE ASKED,
AMID THE SHEEP LOOKING
DOWN INTO THEIR
SILLY UPTURNED FACES.
MINE, SAID SPOFFORD,
AS OF TODAY.
HE TAPPED THE HIND LEGS OF
A LAGGARD WITH A PRACTISED
MOTION OF HIS CROOK'S END,
AND BLEATED AND HURRIED ON.
DID SOME WORK FOR
A GUY THIS SUMMER,
RAISING A BARN,
CARPENTRY.
WE MADE A TRADE.
YOU NEEDED SHEEP?
I LIKE SHEEP,
SPOFFORD SAID MILDLY,
SURVEYING HIS OWN.
WELL, WHO DOESN'T,
PIERCE SAID, LAUGHING.
ALL WE - LIKE SHEEP.
HE SANG IT OUT FROM
HANDEL'S
MESSIAH.
ALL WE LIKE SHEEP
ALL WE LIKE SHEEP
SPOFFORD TOOK UP THE TUNE; HE
AND PIERCE HAD SUNG IT TOGETHER
IN A COME-ALL-YE VERSION
ONE WINTER IN THE VILLAGE.
AND SO THEY WENT
SINGING UP THE MEADOW.
ALL WE LIKE SHEEP.
ALL WE LIKE SHEEP
HAVE GONE ASTRAY,
HAVE GONE ASTRAY,
EVERY ONE TO HIS OWN WAY.
John says THANK YOU.

[applause]

(classical music plays)

The end credits roll.

Produced and Directed by Tracey Fisher.

Executive Producer, Michael Vaughan.

A Production of TV Ontario.

Copyright The Ontario Educational Communications Authority 1988.

Watch: John Crowley