I had supper with my beloved Harry Lodge last night and talked about death, inevitably, given my challenge and his “expertize”. He urged me again to do the Third Act book, which I insist on calling Dead Next Year. That title tickles him, as it does me. He quoted Camus… I don’t have it quite right but it goes, roughly: Death makes sense out of life. In a goofy way, that’s true. Not nuts about death, believe me, but it does impose a certain order, doesn’t it. Makes you pay attention.
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