You're often talked about as one of the most powerful literary agents, not just in New York, but on the literary scene anywhere. You've surely heard this many times. Does that irritate you after a while?

It doesn't irritate me to hear people say that I'm powerful. If I do have power, I hope I use it for the good of my authors.

What do your authors expect of you?

What any author expects is a very skilled negotiator, as well as someone who is empathetic to their work. But what is very important, in any relationship, professional or personal, is that one be as direct as possible. Too many people, I find, tell other people what they want to hear. That is a huge mistake, and can lead to many misunderstandings. In my representation of authors I am careful not to exaggerate the publishing possibilities for a manuscript. There are many bumps along the way toward publication, as well as after publication. These should be confronted as quickly and with as much clarity as possible. The author should always know where he stands. There is nothing worse than uncertainty.

What, in your mind, is a skilled negotiator, and what does it take to become one?

One must have a grasp of the material one is currently selling, as well as the author's potential, and be able to express that, to a publisher-without hype, but with genuine enthusiasm. I also think you have to know how to close a deal. You have to sense the moment, in a negotiation, where you have achieved the best you can, and that's the moment, you close. I think it's true of anything in life. There are people who aren't closers. They talk a good game, but they can't bring the deal home.

Authors are also notoriously fickle creatures, being described variously as pampered kids, grownups in need of someone to baby sit them, or all of the above, perhaps. From a literary agent's point of view, how much of a tax is it on your own personal resources, to deal with this special breed?

Well, I don't think they're as much pampered children, but often needy adults. They are needy for a sympathetic dialogue as well as for affirmation. Authors often work alone, all day long, in great, almost solitary confinement. They may work on a project for years, such as my writer Robert Caro: he worked on his magnificent Lyndon Johnson book Master of the Senate for nine or ten years. When the book finally is delivered, there is a tremendous sense of relief on the part of the writer, as well as a sense of apprehension of how this book, which is so central to an author's sense of self, is going to be received in the world. I feel very sympathetic to this apprehension.

How do you break the bad news, and reinforce the good news, about manuscripts?

Reinforcing the good news is easy. About breaking the bad news: I think one has to be, without hurting the person, as direct as possible, but sensitive to the author's feelings. Because if you said, oh, this is wonderful, and I think it's going to sell hundreds of thousands of copies, and then you as the agent can't deliver that kind of a deal, or the publishing world perhaps even rejects the book, then there is a loss of trust, which is central to an agent-client relationship. If I see a manuscript that I think could be improved before publication, then I suggest returning to the drawing board before submitting the book to publishers.

Given the multiplicity of writers you have, and the multiplicity of works they deliver to you, what does it say about your personal capacity to be the first judge of that manuscript?

I have very catholic tastes. And I'm interested in a great many things. I have a great interest in fiction, but I also have a real curiosity about the world: history, international affairs and various socio-political, economic and cultural matters. I think that being an agent allows you to be a graduate student forever. It is wonderful to get various kinds of manuscripts. There is a vast range in my client list, from Amartya Sen writing on the interplay between economics and democracy, to Joan Didion on the political scene in America or Tom Wolfe on cultural foibles. And fiction, of course, takes you into worlds, some of which you have visited before and some of which you haven't. There is a heightened sense of reality, a discovery. To be the first reader of Stephen Carter's novel, The Emperor of Ocean Park, was very exciting. Stephen holds the chair of constitutional law at Yale and has written many distinguished works of nonfiction, as well as being named one of the most important young intellectuals in America. For him to deliver a novel, a completed novel, with the depth of characterization and the multilayering of plot lines, with such intelligence and such narrative skill was breathtaking.

What is the set of intellectual and emotional dendrites with you, that enable you to make judgments about manuscripts, and get it right each time?

Well, of course let me say, I'm not always right. No one is. I often say because I grew up in the center of the country-I grew up in the Midwest-it seemed that the whole world was open to me. I didn't come into the literary business with any preconceived ideas, but fostered by the family that I grew up in-reading was always high on my list of pleasures. Travel seemed to me to be one of the great benefits of adult life, and I looked forward to coming to New York, as soon as I got out of college. And I read extensively, from very early childhood. I would read everyone from Angela Thirkell-when I was about eight years old, who I'll bet you never even heard of, who is rather a forgotten English cottage novelist-up through all the wonderful Sherlock Holmes books, Louisa May Alcott, Mark Twain. In high school, I can remember reading, Allen Drury's Advise and Consent, which was a great popular bestseller of the time, as well as reading, Dostoyevsky and Jane Austen. I understood the quality that each of them had, in very different ways. I can respond and appreciate on different levels, to many different kinds of people, as well as to many different kinds of writers.

At what point in your career did you get the sense that your perceptions about a manuscript, people, topics, and writers, were just that much beyond everybody else?

I don't know if my perceptions are that special but I am fortunate to have a keen intuition about what makes a manuscript work. I started working in the Sterling Lord agency right out of college as a secretary, but soon advanced to become his assistant. He pretty much gave me all the new fiction manuscripts that came in. He put one down on my desk,Donald Barthelme, a short story titled Big Broadcast 1938. No one had ever heard of Donald Barthelme then. I thought the story was very eccentric, and used language in such innovative ways, unlike anything I had ever read. I thought of course I'd like to represent him. I instinctively knew that here was something new, valid, and incredibly fresh. This story appeared in a now defunct, wonderful literary magazine, called New World Writing. I later sold his first story to the New Yorker, where he became a regular contributor until his too early death. Donald really revolutionized the American short story. Many other people have followed in his wake, such as Raymond Carver, Ann Beattie. Then I read Tom Wolfe's piece Candy Colored Tangerine Flake Streamline Baby in Esquire. I was barely an agent then-I'd been Sterling Lord's assistant-and I just thought I have to represent this man. His writing had taken journalism in such an incredibly new direction. It was exciting, and witty, and smart. Despite the fact that I was the youngest kid on the block, I set out to represent Tom. I called up the editor of Esquire, and asked if he could help arrange a meeting with me, and I was terrified, because I thought for sure, he would want to be represented by a better established agent. But I was lucky, and he came with me. I was barely 26 when his first book became a best seller. So that gave me a certain confidence level.

At that early point, had you imagined that in the not too distant future, you would be one of the most powerful literary agents holding the ticket to an author's success?

I have to say that I try never to forget that my success is due to my author's success. It is important to choose the right authors and to nurture them. But I think that part of the problem, in any personal service business, is when the agent, or the lawyer, or the investment banker begins to think he or she is more important than the client. I try never to forget that my importance or power comes from my superb list of clients.

For those setting out in the literary business now, as agents, or publishers, or authors-what would you say to them about ambition?

There's nothing wrong with ambition. In some circles it does not have the best connotation, but that is unfair. Ambition is a great thing. It drives success. And, yes, I think I was very ambitious. I didn't acknowledge it to myself directly, but I certainly wanted to succeed. I think if you place ambition in front of everything else, you can trip over it, and it will not serve you well. But, if your ambition serves a goal, and serves your professional skills and instincts, then fine. I don't think people get ahead if they are not ambitious.

What does it take to succeed as a personal service representative, a literary agent?

I do think you not only have to be a reader, but a forceful advocate. You have to understand different kinds of literature, both fiction and non-fiction, with a sensitivity toward the country as a whole, not just to New York. We can't ever forget the fact that there are many, many readers scattered across the country.

What does it take to succeed in this business?

It takes not only intelligence and enthusiasm, but a lot of curiosity and energy-which, thank God, I've been blessed with. Energy can enhance your enthusiasm and keep you on the cutting edge. As Ezra Pound said, make it new. Not only do writers have to do that, but, I think professional people do too. And the good thing about my job is that I continue to work with new clients. It is important to think about the business in different ways, as it evolves and will continue to evolve. What is wonderful in publishing is to see new generations of editors come in, as well as new generations of writers. I feel very proud of the agents that I have trained who have gone on to great success. I feel that's been a very important part of my career - mentoring younger agents.

What makes you secure within yourself, to share your experiences, and be able to actively encourage young men and women who might one day be competitors?

Security should accompany success. If you are not open to new blood, in whatever field of endeavor that you are involved in, then eventually that world will collapse upon you. I've been extremely lucky in my success, and I feel that I have a responsibility to give back to the publishing world, which helped me. We certainly have seen, particularly in some talent agencies, a fierce competitiveness, and undercutting of agents even within their own firm. This is antithetical to what I believe breeds success.

What about a sense of responsibility in extending help to others in your business?

The world of publishing is a world of ideas often of an extremely important nature, not only to American culture, but to international culture. This is not a business that makes bricks, or shoes. This is the fostering of intellectual ideas; I think everyone who works in publishing has to bear some responsibility, for the future. Are there kinds of writers you will not touch, are there kinds of topics you will not touch. Are there geographical areas you will not touch, are there ideologies you will not touch? I really won't represent books that don't, in some way, seem to have an authentic voice. There are certain projects that I know other agents will take on, and be very successful with, which will not work for me. And that's good, that's what makes every agent somewhat different, and keeps the business healthy.

Given the globalization of our contemporary world, how has literature moved with it? Particularly the American publishing scene-has it become more global in terms of its topics, in terms of its theses?

After September 11th there was a rash of books written and published about Afghanistan and terrorism, and there are many books published on globalization and international affairs. Yet, sadly, I fear there has not been an increase in the number of translations of foreign literature published here. The real globalization has taken place with the publishing companies themselves. Think how many U.S. publishers Bertelsmann now owns - Random House, Knopf, Doubleday and several other major American publishers. Vivendi Universal owns Houghton Mifflin and Holtzbrinck owns St. Martin's, Farrar, Straus & Giroux and Picador. Fifteen or twenty years ago publishing companies were bought by larger American media companies which created much talk about synergy. I have never seen synergy work, which is probably just as well, because it is important to have the advantage of going into a competitive market place. Each of the arms of a particular media company is probably not equally as good for the same project. The movie company might not be as good as the book publishing company. You want to be able to pick your pieces and put together your own pie.

With all this conglomerization, who is going to encourage fresh voices, not just from Europe, but the developing countries?

The developing countries are producing the most exciting literature now. There is, for example, an incredible avalanche of good Indian writers. English was their language which made it easier for them to break out into the English language market than writers who must be translated. Twenty years ago there was a lot of new writing coming from South America which has since receded. Now it seems to be from former colonies such as India, the Caribbean and parts of Africa. Most of these writers write in English which gives them a headstart in our market.

Were you caught by surprise when this trend began to emerge?

I was not exactly caught by surprise so much as I was happily surprised. I think the wonderful thing about being in the publishing business, is that you meet such a variety of writers and publishers. Even though I don't generally represent writers in translation, since I want to be able to read a book in its original language I have a great deal to do with European, South American and Japanese publishers, publishers from all over the world. We meet at the various international book fairs and keep in touch via the phone and email. People travel so much today and of course, there is the almost instantaneous connection of the Internet.

With what areas are you personally frustrated-that you can't go out and represent them in the literary world?

It occurs to me that an emerging literature comes from places that have been under great stress. We saw this in Eastern Europe, particularly Czechoslovakia at the end of the Communist era. This would make the Middle East a good candidate. There are probably writers writing in Arabic, with whom we don't have much contact. It's not a personal frustration, it's a frustration as a reader, that we don't have access to more intellectuals and fiction writers, who write about and imagine a world beyond the present Middle East conflict. There must be good writing going on there, that hopefully, can eventually find its voice.

But you still travel extensively, don't you?

Life is a continuous education. One of the reasons that I like to travel is that I can immerse myself in the literature of the country that I visit. Two of the places that I find the most interesting, and challenging, are India and the Middle East. I've been in Israel three times. I've been to Syria, Jordan and Egypt, and several times to Turkey. The situation in much of that area is of such anguish and complexity that I hesitate to define it in a couple of sentences. I am also worried about the situation in India. If India doesn't get caught in these horrible struggles with religious fundamentalism, it can soar ahead. The world at the moment seems to be poised, in a delicate equipoise between chaos and violence and astounding discoveries and progress in health, science and other areas fundamental to the civilized world.

And in that context, because of what you do, the kinds of writers you've brought along and made successful, do you see yourself as a bridge builder of sorts?

Oh, I definitely do. That is one of the most gratifying opportunities that my professional life has offered me, and that I most enjoy. Certainly, in long experience in the business, the international scene is more important now than ever. We have frequent opportunities to mingle with our counterparts over much of the globe. We all have to learn to be better listeners. I try to be someone who can listen to other people, and let them voice their opinion, even if I disagree with it. There are ways of listening, which can lead to a real dialogue without getting into a nasty confrontation.

In your lifetime of accomplishment, what are the lessons learned, and the lessons forgotten?

The lesson I try to remember, is the old adage "pride goeth before a fall." It is not healthy to become inflated with one's reputation, or accomplishments. I don't think I have to name names to show examples of people with overwhelming hubris that ultimately brought them down. I am grateful for the opportunities that presented themselves to me and that I usually had the sense enough to seize them. Most of all I am grateful to live in a free society that allows us so many opportunities and benefits. Certainly one of our great freedoms is that of free speech and many of us exercise this right constantly. Not just journalists, but the average citizen. At a dinner party the other night, in which there were varying opinions about what should be done in the Middle East and Iraq, a man remarked, thank God we're in America. Whatever its flaws, and they are many, it is a great country with a democracy that is still flourishing.

What gives you hope? And what terrifies you?

I think that what terrifies me is that, events are spinning out of control in certain areas, like the Middle East. While we are all focused on the Israeli/Palestin-ian conflict, I feel a great sympathy for King Abdullah of Jordan, who is in such a difficult position. Knowing some Jordanians, there is nothing they would like better than peace. They see themselves as an emerging economy with great benefits to be gained from participation in the world economy. How can any dynamic economy emerge there, when the region is at war? It seems the angry rhetoric, is escalating, within this country, too. For the first time in my life, I am fearful of what might happen. If a peaceful solution can't be found soon, I fear for the whole region. India and Pakistan also have a severe problem with borders which could result in a larger conflict. My hope is that people in these embattled areas will see there is a better world in which they can participate and benefit. It is not my lack of hope that frightens me. It is that so many people in the emerging world lack hope. Many terrible things are being done in the world today in the name of religion--people are abandoning the best part of their religious traditions, and adhering to the primitive fundamentalism that is not central to Islam, to Judaism, to Christianity, or to Hinduism. If religious moderates don't find their voices the world is really in peril. We should all work for interchanges where people from different traditions can come together and discuss their similarities and differences. The important thing is to listen to "the other," to plan and discuss for a productive future without terrorism. Instead of suicide bombers, let us hope that we can create conditions that will allow young Muslims to feel they can participate in a world that will offere them jobs, securities, and freedoms.