From Oberon Press:
"When I began writing this story, I had no idea where it would go or what I would call it. The story began with a voice, the voice of an old man about my age, but not me. When I first saw him he was a twelve-year-old standing at the door of a large rooming-house in Saint John. I went on from there, letting him tell his own story. Only later did I realize that he was sitting where I was sitting writing my memoirs. At first I wanted to be serious, but I soon found that I had lapsed into my old ways and was having fun. I could say a lot more, but I won't."
Read more a Oberon Press