Starbuck: I was reading a book that called for solidarity among the working class. It was fiction—there were four distinct voices. The first voice was undereducated and crude. The second voice was very airy and gay. The third voice was bombastic and pompous. The fourth voice was bare thunder. It was divided into these four voices—it was a short story about traveling deep under the sea. There were no characters. Just a journey under the sea and words and words and words. There was really no story to it. It was by a writer I used to go to school with. Now he lives off in the wilderness in a little shack. He paid for the publication himself, and sent me the book. I think he’s insane.