The scheme of SMPHONY, if atypical, is simple: It goes where it seems to want to go, at any given moment. Although each section connects to the preceding by a logical or psychological thread (and there is an arc that connects the ending to the beginning), the book is not linear in the traditional sense. I believe that the sense of linear continuity is precisely what is lacking in our lives, and that, willy-nilly, the impact of quick-cutting in the movies has made our minds comfortable with rapid and abrupt changes; if not full of wrenching twists and turns, our lives are collages more than they are straight lines. It should be noted that there is some bawdiness in SYMPHONY: not obscenity, I hope, but an occasional touch of earthiness. I reason that if millions of people, children as well as adults, can respond favorably to a movie with a major character named Pussy Galore, readers can take my ribaldry in the spirit of broad fun in which it is intended. Finally, I am guided by two notions. The first is Kafka's admonition, "To hell with psychology," and the second is Henry James's assertion that, in the end, the only criterion by which a novel can be judged good is whether or not it is interesting.
