Years ago, my friend Edward Said's wife, Mariam, asked if I would make available my apartment in New York, where I lived at that time, as the site for a surprise 40th birthday for Edward Said. I dislike surprise parties, but, of course, I agreed. The evening arrived; guests assembled on my sitting room on the 11th floor of 333 Central Park West. The dining room table groaned under Middle Eastern delicacies. Then came the word from the front door. Edward and Mariam had arrived! They were ascending in the elevator. Now we could all hear Edward's furious bellow: "But I don't want to go to dinner with ******* Alex!" They entered at last, and the shout went up from 70 throats, "Happy Birthday!" He reeled back in surprise, staggered and, for a moment, I thought he was going to keel over with a heart attack. Of course he didn't, and after a few minutes looking somewhat dazed at the greetings of friends he hadn't seen for 20 years, he had a great time.