Friday, December 21


(an excerpt from John Lahr's short memoir about Harod Pinter)

While Karel Reisz and Harold Pinter were working on their screenplay, Pinter's silver Mercedes convertible was often parked outside our house.

Once, just before a work session, my wife and our four-year-old son, Chris, sat at Reisz's kitchen table with Pinter as he held forth in his commanding manner.

When Pinter left the room, Chris turned to us and asked, "Is he a policeman?"

"No," his mother said. "He's a very good writer."

"Can he make a 'W'?" Chris asked.

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