1. People want to know what your book is about before they read it.  You’ve hinted it at and we’ve gotten a "clearer" understanding of it from a couple of reviews that have been circulated on the web but we’re still not sure what it is about.  Could you enlighten us?
2. If it’s not about anything, why should I read it?
3. But couldn't any book be described as comprising a small part of the infinite? Doesn't Borges' book of sand represent everything that has ever been written or will be written? Every possible combination of words in every language?
4. Well, mathematically or theoretically speaking doesn’t every possible combination already exist? Isn’t it just a matter of finding it? What we currently don't know about physics or the nature of the universe still exists whether we have discovered it or not.
5. So let us assume then that if this is a book that some other thus far unwritten book is about then we surely have to infer this book’s existence from something that doesn’t exist. Usually that process is reversed.  In astronomy, for example, bodies that can’t be seen to exist are inferred from other bodies that can be seen to exist.  In this case what can be seen to exist must be inferred from what can’t be seen to exist.  Or am I wrong?
7. You’ve written three other books:  One Note Symphonies, Still Life in Motion, and The Unknowed Things.  Do you, looking back on it now, see any evidence of some kind of evolution in your work?  Some kind of maturity in your writing from one book to the next?
8.  How did you come up with the idea for the book?
9.  Without giving anything away…at the end of the book there is a section that appears to be the start of another book.  Or at least I hope so.  It’s very interesting.  Is there another book in the works?
10.  What have you done to all the names in the book?  What is the reason for that?
12.  Critics of your work say that you’re not topical.  I being one of them.  There’s a disengagement from the present.  They say that your work lacks any social, political, or philosophical insight that might be of interest to a reader.  There's no context.  How do you respond?
16.  Do you consider yourself a good writer?
Everybody wins...


100 % - Nothing
  80 % - Nothing
  60 % - Nothing

I don’t understand why people need to know what a book is about before they read it.  It's become a bit absurd hasn't it?  I suppose it's a short cut.  I only want to read what I like and I guess there's nothing wrong with that.  But then who will read books like mine?  "What a book about" is a story of its own and what if that story is better than the book itself?  I guess in a way maybe it is part of the book and it's okay, after all, to know what a book is about before you read it. 
It's not about anything.
It's a sequel to the internet.
It is part of Borgia's Book of Sand. A small, possibly inconsequential part of the infinite.
It’s a book about which another unwritten story or novel makes reference to. Its story is found elsewhere.
Because poetry can seem like it’s about nothing.
It was written for you.
I’m not saying you should read it.
Because no one else will read it.
Because it’s not poetry.
I don't really know what Borge intended but if that is the case then we are not creators but rather discoverers of what already exists.
Are all things of equal value in the face of the infinite? All words? All people? Are all values equal?
Writers should be more concerned with asking questions and not providing answers though I haven't asked any questions.  I haven't provided any answers either.
It all falls under the realm of contamination.
The infinite ends at death.
Death is infinite.
Life is inter-finite.
All of the above.
Septimus indigenous octopus.
So I've written this book I think is good (and beautiful) and that I hope at least one other person think is good (and beautiful).
Look at those coats.
There is no evolving as a writer. 
I use less words now.
I don't see what I used to see.  I see different things now.
I’d rather move on.
Why is this question always asked?
I can’t remember.  It built on itself in such a way that I can’t remember how it all started.
Ideas aren't important.
There's never another book in the works. 
It's possibly a defense mechanism against future inertia.  
Underneath it all we speculate of a constant braining.
Writers only write sequels to their first book.  They can't get away from themselves.
I don’t understand why there has to be a reason for anything written in a book. 
I’ve created a transparent overlay for the names that changes both their pronunciation and meaning.
Because music can kill a lion.
Because a lion can kill a man.
Because a man can kill another man and a lion can kill a bear.
I don’t consider that a criticism. It’s an observation.
It has always been difficult for me to write about popular culture because the lack of meaining I find in it isn't as meaningful as the lack of meaning I find in the things I write about.
I think the work creates its own context.  It can be read by anyone, anywhere.  It is without culture or nationality.  Only the language gives me away..
They can go fuck themselves.
I don't think  you would ask a good writer that question.