A little book, just over 200 pages.
An elegant contemplation on being a writer, passage of time, and those moments in our lives that fix our fate without us knowing.
Bernard to Roman: "I don't think we get better, during our life time. Most of us get worse. And the others--well, perhaps they write better books. but they don't 'improve.' Our truest limitations are not technical. I said it years ago: poetry cannot be taught. All of this instruction of technique is merely superstition, magical thinking--wishful people tinkering over a decision made for them long ago" (p. 159-160).