what we wanted to do ron carlson meaning

Fall 1991, Book 8.ii
Interview

BROOKE HOPKINS

RON CARLSON GOES TO PLAN B
An Interview with Ron Carlson by Brooke Hopkins

Ron Carlson was born in Logan, Utah. He grew up in Salt Lake City and was educated at the University of Utah. After x years' teaching at the Hotchkiss School in Lakeville, Connecticut, Mr. Carlson returned to Utah to write fiction and to teach for the arts councils of Utah, Idaho, and Alaska. In 1986 he joined the faculty of Arizona State University.

Ron Carlson is the writer of a collection of stories, The News of the World, (W.Due west. Norton 1987/Viking Penguin 1988) and ii novels, Betrayed by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Truants. His work has appeared in Playboy, The New Yorker, Harper's, McCall'south, Sports Illustrated, The North American Review, TriQuarterly, The New York Times, and other magazines and newspapers. His stories accept been included in several anthologies including Sudden Fiction, Editors' Choice 1986 and Best American Stories 1987 (edited past Ann Beattie). His monologues take been produced at The Sundance Playwrights' Institute, The Philadelphia Festival Theatre, The Manhattan Punchline and The Salt Lake Interim Company. Mr. Carlson was awarded a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship in fiction in 1985. His next book, a collection of stories titled Plan B, volition be published by Westward.Due west. Norton in the fall of 1991. He lives with Elaine Carlson and their 2 sons in Tempe, Arizona, where he is the Director of the Creative Writing Program at Arizona State University.

Hopkins: I'd like to begin with the story in this issue of Weber Studies, "The Golf game Centre at Ten-Acres." In many ways, the story has a lot in common with your recent fiction. It is concerned with domestic issues, with relations between husbands and wives, between parents and children. Merely I find some striking things that are dissimilar about it, and I'd like to explore some of those differences. It seems to me that the story is even more on the border, psychologically, than many of the stories you have written in the past, stories collected in The News of the World. I'd like y'all to respond to my sense that this is a story that is exploring terrain that you lot haven't quite touched on before, especially the fearfulness of failure that seems to haunt the narrator of the story.

Carlson: That's an apt description. I'grand a writer who has gone through an evolution, and the evolution is absolutely consonant with the stages of my life. When I was writing Betrayed past F. Scott Fitzgerald, I thought I was writing real high-wire mode, a style that almost calls attending to itself. At the fourth dimension I idea, "Well, this is the fashion I'll ever write. These are my concerns. I want things to exist comic, caper; I desire things at ninety miles an hr." I couldn't be farther away from that now. "The Golf Center at Ten-Acres" is more on the edge, psychologically. I wouldn't say that the narrator's fears take crept into my life, simply they have in a mode, non just the fearfulness of failure, but all kinds of adult concerns. It started equally a story about some children, and how taxing they were emotionally on the parents, specifically, the father. And then the story turned on me as stories sometimes practise, and started to go someplace else. For instance, there's the wife who is involved with the Russian who owns the pizza franchise. That function of it must accept seeped in through the news. At the fourth dimension (information technology's two years agone at present), I had just written a letter to Harper's maxim that I thought the iron curtain was coming down and asking them to send me to Austria. I said, "Ship me and I'll bring you back a piece of the iron curtain." I was going to bring information technology back and employ information technology in my chiliad. For me the claiming now is that the stories get less neat . . . just I recall they go better. There is no solution for the feet in writing the terminal third of a story, as all of the things y'all had created start demanding things of you lot. The satisfaction you go as a writer is that you are just not going to be able to respond them all, simply equally in life. You answer what you tin can, and you try to become out of the story while there is withal resonance.

Hopkins: Let me pick up something you said in the middle of your last remarks, something about the way history, contemporary history seeps into the story in diverse ways. One is very conscious in reading this story of the contemporaneity of its landscape, of a southwestern landscape that is grotesque in many ways, arid. (The golf grade itself would exist the best emblem of that.) And the story seems to exist very much a story prepare in the 1980's, in the Reagan era. I wonder if you could reflect for a moment on your own sense of how your stories are either start to, or have in the past, responded to the American situation; whether yous're beginning to be more enlightened of some of the ways in which contemporary American political and economic life impinges on some of the subjects that concerned you lot earlier, domestic subjects, marriages, child rearing.

Carlson: I remember every author has his or her America, or his or her land. I only reread Lolita last month. And I was struck by all those motor courts Nabokov puts into that story. And I realized that in Betrayed there is one America, i Due west. It's an interesting kind of sanitized Utah. In Truants at that place is another; you lot can see my center being defenseless past things that are egregious, grotesque, just things that actually practice exist in our landscape�for years, for instance, at that place really was this great big blue ox in Flagstaff, Arizona. As a writer now, though, I remember I see the country differently. Just I retrieve that it's as well a dissimilar country. It'due south much less innocent. I wrote Betrayed in 1974, and it merely seems different. We hadn't been through this unabridged Reagan affair. At present, I know who was innocent. I was innocent. I was twenty-five or 20-six years old; now I'm in my early forties. I think these things go hand in manus; my sense of where the grapheme is (who is some shadow of myself) and where the land is, are related. I do actually live well-nigh a golf course, and it'southward not a very pretty course. Flat. And I know about tires that accept emerged in landfills. It'due south hard to bury a tire; they expand and contract and continue ascent. That'south how I developed the grotesque earth that I wanted for this guy to make his mistake in. Just I think when y'all go into a story, for whatever reason, a current impels you, and you're following that, the things effectually you lot, that'southward the seepage I was talking virtually. Things find their way; while you're working on a story, they arrive. And for the most part, they help. From fourth dimension to time, though, they tin derail you. If you are not aware of the imagery you're building, you may not be able to become to where y'all wanted to become, or to a place that volition make the story work. The concluding piece I'll do for the new book I'm working on, which is called Plan B, is a story I don't yet have a championship for, but information technology's set in Wendover, Nevada. It has surprised me. I'd made my notes, and I began typing. The recurrent images are things in the earth, all things embedded in the earth: some crashed planes, bones, some tools, and things that are found in archaeological digs, rocks, and cars. I recall when you are working, the imagery more or less becomes congruent with the story you are writing. Simply dorsum to the American result. When you lot describe the sunset or the architecture or the streets or the way the pedestrians are walking or what you lot run into on the bumper stickers, I remember yous're doing the country. And that's the manner nosotros practice information technology.

Hopkins: I think what'southward so striking about the story is the way in which it doesn't impose its sense of the present American moment on its reader, the way it makes you experience information technology. Information technology's not self-conscious in that mode, and all the more effective for that. Only since you bring up the new collection, I wonder whether you lot could draw some of the ways you see it differing from the previous collection, as a whole.

Carlson: The News of the World is a kind of sweet book. When I think about it in retrospect, I take a nice feeling, one that's kind of warm. I don't think the new book will have that kind of feeling for me. It has more bones in information technology. I call back it'south tougher stuff. In that location's something wishful about The News of the World. The long story, "Life before Science," for instance, or "Blood," about the adopted baby: I'chiliad not maxim they're simulated, but I am maxim they are wishful. I recollect, in that collection, the imagination, when it had its option, took the sunny turn. What I've tried to do in this new book, what I've tried to practice more than and more in my work, and in the writing I'm doing about writing, is something I call "going to ground." That is, when you get to a turning point in a story, and you accept to get ane manner or some other, the way you lot determine where you lot're going to get, what choice you're going to become, what choice you're going to make as a author, is yous "become to ground," yous try to exist as honest as possible. Sometimes those choices volition remain what I'd call sunny. Merely for the most function, the stories in the new drove are much less wishful, more than substantial than some of the stuff in News. That'due south particularly true, I call up, of the title story, "Plan B."

Hopkins: Maybe you could elaborate on what you hateful past "more substantial."

Carlson: Well, in that story, the main character is undergoing a major change. His job is ending, and he'southward having some difficulty confronting that. Primarily, he'southward having difficulty telling his wife. It's ane of those things you tin can't quite clear. I like a guy off balance. He'southward not in control; he'southward not the captain. He'southward just on the ship. I've written lots of stories, and I've read a lot of stories, where the guy is the captain of the ship, and he tells the story; information technology's his story. I believe this story is unlike. It'due south a story about a guy who'due south off residual, who's non secure, particularly in his relation to women. That's why when he meets the women on the verandah in Waikiki, I was and then surprised. He finds out that both of these immature women have lost their husbands in an blow. Then I had to be more than conscientious; fifty-fifty though they're dancing in the scene, I couldn't trip the light fantastic toe. The trajectory of more and more incidents in my stories comes downward harder. I hateful, I tin however have my fun. I tin can have a moment when a guy's uncomfortable dancing with a strange woman who seems to exist romantically inclined, and and so later, alone on the embankment, he thinks nigh what information technology would be like to lose a spouse. I see more than and more of life like this, with two edges, where we do have the comic or what we might recollect of every bit something ironic. And then later on information technology bears down on u.s.a.; it bears us downwardly. A lot of the other stories in the new collection are like that equally well: "Blazo," which is about Alaska, "Deray," "Cracroft," a story about two professors. I stand behind all my work, but this is what I would stand on now. It's new. The point is that I think you write what's true for you lot at the moment. In News some of the stories took turns that might be considered a little besides optimistic; those represent metaphorically where I was at the time. Now I meet things a little differently, and that's coming out in the stories.

Hopkins: I think that a number of the stories in both collections explore aspects of the male person psyche, aspects of male insecurity. And I think they have become increasingly concerned with certain fears of failure.

Carlson: I agree. I laugh about this sometimes. I have, and did take for a long time, a sunny, lucky time of information technology. And in many ways I nonetheless continue to, but life asks us a million questions, and I think at present, especially the manner I feel today, the riffs of unbridled euphoria come less and less frequently. And more than and more we're caught, we're rethinking what nosotros said, how we said it, what we did, how nosotros did it, what nosotros should take done. And I discover myself very interested in those concerns, because I think they're honest.

Hopkins: Have you ever written a story from a adult female's point of view?

Carlson: Well, I accept, a couple of times. It'south a big risk for me. I wrote a story, the first person account of a woman who dies. That came close. The piece that I like, and I think that information technology's adequately good even though I'm not really sure what it's most, is the final story in The News of the World, called "The Status Quo." That's a third person story which centers on a woman who's uneasy most her current state of affairs. When I wrote the first judgement I knew I was in trouble. It goes something like, "She didn't feel good, but she didn't know what the matter was." And I know the things that happened in that story were good things, and I believe them, but when the story was published I was still nervous about it. I reread the story a couple of months ago, and I feel that it is 1 of the least indulgent stories I've written up to this point.

Hopkins: The story begins, "It was a tough time and she didn't know why."

Carlson: I was trying something there. Because I think some of the tough times are tough because you don't know why. If yous could put your finger on information technology, there might be a chance to solve information technology. That'southward what the woman in the story is trying to do. It's not easy.

Hopkins: Really, that story is linked in an interesting manner to the story in this outcome of Weber Studies, "The Golf Centre at Ten-Acres." They are near the aforementioned kind of moment, a moment of transition, domestic transition, alter in a marriage.

Carlson: I'thou much more interested in adaptation; that is to say, people who adapt to a trouble, as opposed to those who just dispose of one. I'chiliad much more interested in the compromises. The melodramatic, a divorce or a separation, those don't involvement me as much as the uncomfortable, merely necessary, adapting that nosotros all do. And sometimes these are pocket-sized moments and are hard to see. Only for me as a writer, that'due south what domestic life is all about. It's what life is like in the workplace, also. Information technology isn't a matter of winning. We've all had our chances to win. Merely generally, we're left with a kind of unease. I'one thousand going to do more of that in my fiction. I'thousand much less interested in the flashy. I think y'all're going to see my fiction become quieter. I call back that in my next book you're going to run across stories with characters whom yous have to follow more closely.

Hopkins: What you've simply said puts an interesting frame around a moment in the "Golf Middle" story, the moment when the narrator rejects a violent act of revenge. That may exist analogous to your ain rejection of the melodramatic.

Carlson: You take seen me play with that idea in Truants, where I wanted to have a guy tear a phone out of the wall, and then information technology didn't quite work. You can't tear the phone out of the wall, and that's what I felt in writing the gun scene. He gets the gun in the story; he goes over to his brother-in-law's flat. He's mad. When I was writing the scene, I idea, "Wait, he tin can't take his child; he tin can't get out the kid alone at dwelling; if he's going to shoot someone, he'south going to need to become a sitter." And in a fashion, I like the scene a lot, because it involves ane of the few decisions he's fabricated. He rejects violence. I honey those moments�moments when we can see a character abound stronger. I was glad to make the guy in "The Golf Centre at Ten-Acres" aware of his own deficits, that he'southward non a skilful pro, that he doesn't actually know what to say. I like that because information technology helped me to get in with him. He but wasn't slick. A lot of the fiction I come across has these slick narrators who relate interesting things, and sometimes the stories succeed. I'm much more interested in the reflection. The events are easy. Many things happen that are fun to relate, and engaging, but what I'm interested in is how they reflect on who tells them. When yous tell a story in the offset person, there are going to be two stories. One is the relating of the events, the other is the implicit or explicit consequence of those events on the narrator. I run into a lot of stories in which it'southward not articulate to me what the effect of those events is on the narrator. In a lecture I gave at the Writers at Piece of work Conference in Park Urban center this year [1990], I said that if you lot ever get a chance to write a novel for Hamlet, tell it from Horatio'due south point of view. And I really believe that. I've been thinking a lot this year about point of view, every bit I fabricated my first substantial forays into the third person. And when I came back to the get-go person, it was non satisfactory for me alone. It was not enough but to say, "Let me tell you what happened last nighttime." I don't want to know what happened terminal night. I want it implied, somehow, in the voice of the speaker, what all that meant to the speaker.

Hopkins: Simply a technical question. Is it possible to imagine who the narrator in "The Golf Centre at Ten-Acres" is telling his story to? Is there a contradiction in the story betwixt this man'south supposed inability to articulate himself and the fact that he's actually telling the story to some kind of imagined audience, and telling it rather finer?

Carlson: That is inconsistent. It's similar to having a child relate a story which is realistically beyond his ways. Simply I'm willing to become with that. I wanted him to be unable to quip. I don't think he's putting us on nearly not being clever. But he may exist underestimating his ability to put together a footling narrative. There are stories, and you know some of them, that are directly addressed to a specific audience: Lolita, for instance. Simply as a writer I do not, now, specifically think of a reader. I don't think virtually a reader, nor do I think explicitly of who my narrator is speaking to. It can become apparent in the course of a story, and you get a certain kind of posture with the linguistic communication. In the theater, when you do monologues, that's the get-go affair you ask. Where is he? Whom is he talking to? What's the dramatic moment? And when my monologues are performed, that's one of the hardest things to piece of work out. Whom is he justifying himself to? In prose fiction, though, more and more, I think of myself as the reader. When I get done, I want to exist able to pick upwardly the folder a month later and read through it and not desire to pick up my pencil. That's almost impossible. But I want to read the story; I want to have enough in it. I'm the reader. I desire to say 1 more affair about this. Every once in a while yous have creative writing students who are reluctant. They say, "I'thou no good; I can't write a story." Then they write a story. They write 1 story every year or and so. I said to one pupil who was going on and on nearly liking my stories and putting downward his own: "That's considering you've been writing for your enemies." Because his letters are fabled. They are 2 and iii pages, and they merely sit yous downwards and yous keep them and you lot read them more than once, read them aloud. That's because his defenses aren't up when he is writing a letter of the alphabet. And more and more I don't think of critics. I'm thinking of a fellow reader who is going to enjoy the same things I practise. I remember that's a very good mindset for a writer to take. People are always going to be able to find stuff to criticize in your work, ever. Knowing that, yous tin go ahead and clear yourself to write. I remember we just got through a decade of very, very defensive writing, so carefully done that information technology was impeccable many times. In 1985, I couldn't tell you what was bugging me virtually the stories I was reading. It was that defensiveness. At that place was no access. I think we're over that.

Hopkins: That brings up another issue I desire you to explore a little. It has to practise with the mode you stand for the intimate moments betwixt men and women, husbands and wives. It seems to me to be a striking characteristic of your writing that you do that frankly, but always with a touch of irony. That seems to take something to do with the observations you lot but made about the defensiveness, the exactness, the slightly washed out nature of certain contemporary American writing.

Carlson: Surface. A lot of what we're talking about is that impec-cable surface, impervious to whatsoever kind of emotional access. That is non the mode I write. I think a person has to train himself to write that way. And I call back people successfully did. And then much of the writing I've done to this signal has been a letting go. As I remember back on it, information technology was a lucky thing to be able to do, to exist able to go into a story and write information technology as if everybody or nobody was going to read it, never looking back. As soon as you start measuring yourself, you're washed. And I retrieve a author betrays himself. You tin't hide. I know this is true. When I did a story for public radio final twelvemonth, they [George Garrett and Susan Stamberg] asked us to write a story with a wedding cake in the centre of a route. That's all they said. The vi writers were Ann Beattie, Joy Williams, Judith Invitee, Stuart Dybeck, George Garrett, and myself. And if you look at the stories each of those writers produced, they be as short, radical metaphors for each of them: their piece of work, their mental attitude. This is a sensitive upshot for me now, because I'grand finding myself more and more self-conscious. I don't know what to say about that, except I'm enlightened of it. When I get into a scene, I try to stay equally close as I tin, and I try to get a scene that I would like to read. These two things take guided me well so far. There have been times, as I said a infinitesimal agone, when I've been blest with the ability to permit myself go and actually write. I'chiliad writing a story at present which is based on a single parent overhearing the apple tree of her eye, her fifteen-year-old son, say the 1 word that offends her to no end. She'due south a professional adult female, a technical writer and editor for a magazine. Years and years ago, I had a wonderful liberal friend, Susan, who taught prep school with me, and she said this 1 give-and-take (it's obviously a sexual swearword.) It was the i word that upset her. She just couldn't stand up it. That stayed with me and I wrote the story. Well, this word is in the story thirty times, when the woman confronts her son. And she uses the word. And its one of those scenes where, as I am rewriting the story, I am finding myself incredibly self-conscious. Information technology's the weirdest sensation.

Hopkins: I am confused about cocky-consciousness here. Is it a bad place to be?

Carlson: I think that the respond to that question is, "I don't know." I remember that a author needs to measure out, to use judgment. Considering at that place are certain things that are indulgent. I call up that what we are really looking for is the ability to be kind of fresh about personal matters, sexual activity for example. There are later all simply just so many combinations. I call back I've been able at times to make close contact with what people, and particularly men, become through, in anticipation and tenderness. I like the idea of touching common basis. Writing a story about something we all have in common only we oasis't had the run a risk to talk about yet.

Hopkins: Let's just focus on this word "footing" for a moment because you have used it in another context earlier to talk almost some of your new stories. I don't retrieve precisely the phrasing: "touch on basis" or something similar that.

Carlson: "Go to ground."

Hopkins: "Go to ground." And at present yous're talking about "mutual ground." And I wonder if we can run across whether these phrases link up. I was a little confused about the first phrase, "go to ground." I recollect it means something similar hit a place of authenticity as you are writing, something like that.

Carlson: Yep.

Hopkins: And the "common ground" yous refer to would be that place of authenticity where all of u.s.a. share rather simple human things in common, desire, for instance, vulnerability. In your stories you commonly treat this from the bespeak of view of the human, and sometimes comically, sometimes sadly. Could you reflect for a while on what these two phrases have in common.

Carlson: "Going to ground" means you lot'll exist writing a story, and you lot'll be near three quarters of the way in, and y'all begin to alive in it. Y'all begin to create the condition for a world, and you create what I telephone call the angle of inclination of the narrator, his various traits, then you know when confronted with a dish of relish at the tabular array what he'southward going to practise with information technology. Push it back or swallow it all. Only late in the story at that place will sometimes be a point where I tin't trust it anymore. That'southward where I go to basis, where I shake the scaffolding and check it. Sometimes I'll do it after I stop the story, I'll finish the next typhoon, and then I'll end upward with a whole different ending. "The Golf game Center at Ten-Acres" is a expert example of this. It really got a lot better once I understood that information technology wasn't but going to be near fun with the kids. Now virtually "common ground." An example of that is the title story of the new collection, "Plan B," where the guy has wanted desperately to slumber with his wife, and they are interrupted by the children and his animalism is building, and he comments on information technology. And then finally they become into bed, and he feels his wife's trunk against his, and it's a funny affair because he's still imagining what it's like to want her. And at that place she is. When I'm working on that, I try to write as closely as I can, and that was a actually nice discovery, considering, in fact, I've had that experience, only I didn't know I'd had it until I wrote it down. That'southward what I mean by common footing. It sparks recognition in the reader. You've got a world that they believe in, and then you give them these shocks of recognition and they'll proceed to follow you lot for three, four more pages, and that'south how you endeavor to pay for a story.

Hopkins: Let me ask a slightly unlike question. I don't call back you could exactly be called a regional writer, but many of the stories and both of the novels take identify in a specific surface area, Salt Lake City, its environs, and the surrounding states, Arizona, Nevada. What do these places mean to you as a author? What kind of sustenance do you get from them?

Carlson: There are several comments I desire to make about this. I am from this area. I was born in Logan and then raised in Salt Lake Metropolis. It'due south difficult to get away from the quality of light here, the quality of vegetation, the sense of enclosure by the mountains: so many things that I like. So that colors an attitude that I have for this identify, which is a kind of general amore with some irony. Table salt Lake is like every other place, a mixed feel. I apply existent places, and I've written about Salt Lake specifically a lot. I practice it without amends. It helps me write the story. I lean against it while I'g writing, so I remove some of the local references. But Common salt Lake is a city I know. I have a great bargain of information most this metropolis. Updike's Rabbit Run is set somewhere in Pennsylvania. That story works for me. I read information technology before I had been to those places, and I imagined those places. When I use specific restaurants in boondocks in my fiction, people recognize them, but I wouldn't use those places because they were real. My hope is that I write a story every bit specifically and personally located as possible, but that information technology will take larger ramifications. The thing that I oasis't done much of is to use this region's Mormonism. At Utah Land years ago I gave a lecture, and some guy said, "Yep, well, I read your book and liked it a lot. But where are the Mormons?" I recall that I was a little fey with the Mormons in Betrayed. Only y'all tin write near them. They've got lives. I'm kidding. And there is a lot of interesting Mormon fiction beingness written right now by some of our friends, and by some other writers. I've read four novels in the last year that were located in and effectually the Mormon experience. About of it here. To go back though, to what nosotros were talking about before. I am a Westerner. I've lived in the East for x years, and I think that I will write one novel set in a prep school sometime. Just if I had my option, I would want to be known as a Westerner. The light and the space here sustain me. I couldn't go to New York and type. I wouldn't want to go dorsum to Connecticut. It's beautiful: rolling green hills. But I find information technology oppressive and enclosed.

Hopkins: Up to now, however, the focus of your writing has not been on the Due west per se, simply on certain domestic situations that happen to have identify hither. In a manner, information technology seems to me that the region is, more or less for you, secondary. It'south not a main concern.

Carlson: That'due south a tough call, because in a mode I agree, and in a fashion I don't. There's a story in The News of the World called "Milk." The guy is a lawyer, and he'south conspicuously a lawyer in Salt Lake. He goes to Denver for the twenty-four hours, does a degradation in Boulder, comes back, takes his kids on a ride out State Street in the car. You say that for me that'southward secondary. The fact is, you're right. It is secondary. But if we took those external ingredients from that story and we put information technology in Hackensack and had him have the day trip to Manhattan and back, I couldn't do it. I wouldn't believe it; it would merely counterfeit the story for me. And I can't explain that. There'south a reference I retrieve from that story. He's waiting for his plane in Denver. He misses the early on flight, so he sits, and he says, "I sit in a bar and I scan the magazines and I have a Manhattan. My little joke, living in the Due west." Equally I retrieve about it, I practice the aforementioned thing in a story called "One-half Life," where the main character takes 1 of his former students skiing�this actually happened to me on the manner to Alta one time with one of my quondam students. I said, "Do you want some coffee." And he said, "Well, yeah, but yous can't get any java here. This is the forest." And I said, "No, that thermos on the flooring." He picked information technology up like it was the University Laurels, and he said, "God, coffee from a thermos! Yous guys in the W!" There's something in me, and I think other writers accept it also who take lived in the Westward. Whatsoever it is, I similar it, I'm proud of it. When I get the chance to pull that switch, I'll do information technology. Or touch that button, I'll do it. But y'all are right. When at that place was a lot of talk most regional writing, my joke was that I was a regional writer, just I hadn't chosen my region. But I have at present. I like stories set in places that I can take hold of and live in and be there. And then the people tin have their lives and their mistakes and their victories. Those are what I am writing.

smithhairld.blogspot.com

Source: https://weberstudies.weber.edu/archive/archive%20A%20%20Vol.%201-10.3/Vol.%208.2/8.2CarlsonInterview.htm

Share this post