As an artist, he dared to write the unthinkable: that it's totally insane to be 22 years old and to see another soldier's half-digested lunch spill in a bloody mess out of his flak jacket after he'd been pulverized by a bomb.
My father was not Hannibal Lecter crossed with Mussolini, as a few have apparently thought I've depicted him in my book. His teasing sometimes hit the wrong note, but I think half the time he said things simply because they were too clever to suppress.
The first time I saw Catch-22, I fell madly in love with it. I was only nine years old, and read about three pages before putting it down. Although I've tried many times to finish reading it, I'm only reading the whole book for the first time now.
Listening to Dee and my father having a conversation was like snaring front seats at the Sarcasm Olympics, with barbs and ripostes flying back and forth over the table, whizzing past your stuffed derma like torpedoes.