Now the world has grown smaller around this man. He is distanced from the people who have nourished his work and severed from the very texture of spontaneous life, the tumult of voices and noises, the random scenes that represent the one luxury writers thought they could take for granted. Not any more. In a real sense Rushdie has become a messenger between readers and writers. He reminds us all how sensitive and precious this collaboration is, how deeply dependent on individual thought and free choice.
Every book carries the burden of giving offense.
But there is an intimate contract between the two participants, a joint effort of mind and heart that allows for thoughtful differences and that thrives on the prospect of understanding and conciliation. We can think about him. Try to imagine his life. Write it in our minds as if it were the most unlikely fiction. His world and ours.