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William Alexander


William Alexander

William Alexander, when not burning bread, under-watering his garden, choking on a French r, or writing, is the director of technology at a psychiatric research institute, where he has spent the past three decades, (he believes, perhaps naively, as a researcher, not a researchee). He attended Duke University until, after spending two years in the basement of the engineering building trying to get a picture on the oscilloscope, he wisely changed his major to English Literature, transferring to the University at Albany, where he graduated in 1974. Unable to find work related to his field (deconstructing Kafka) he did a short stint as a math teacher, finally re-entering the technology field as the computer age dawned (and, more importantly, oscilloscopes faded from the scene), in 1981.

Bill is a regular contributor to the New York Times op-ed page, where he has opined on such varied issues as Arbor Day, and the difficulties of being organic, which was the 3rd-most e-mailed article of the issue.

Bill's latest project (some critics mistakenly call these "obsessions") in becoming fluent in French in late middle age. Why French? Perhaps Bill agrees with Neo, who in The Matrix Revolutoins, pronounced, "I have sampled all the world's languages and French is the most beautiful." But also, as it turns out, one of the most maddening and illogical. But never fear, for, as with home vegetable gardens and artisan bread, Bill will be there to explain all to you.

Bill's other hobbies include cooking, woodworking, kayaking and swimming. His former hobbies include home renovation (never again) and child-rearing (never, ever again). Bill and his incredibly patient, long-suffering wife live in New York's Hudson Valley, minus a son who has moved 3,000 miles way and a daughter who is itching to, for some reason.

William Alexander

Books by William Alexander

by William Alexander - Nonfiction, Popular Culture

William Alexander is more than a Francophile. He wants to be French. To sip absinthe at the window of a dark café, a long scarf wrapped around his neck, a copy ofLe Monde at hand. Among the things that have stood in his way of becoming French, though, is the fact that he can’t actually speak the language. So Alexander sets out to conquer the language he loves. Readers will find out if it loves him back.