"I wanted to be honest, record what we did, how we talked, dressed... I wanted the book to smell, to reek, of grass."

That’s Vancouver writer Keith Maillard talking about his four-novel series Difficulty at the Beginning. And a quick scan through the pages reveals a book that is indeed dense with the feel of the 1960s, so much so that even those who didn’t live through that infamous decade might come away feeling a little lightheaded.

Maillard’s novels may be steeped in the politics of his youth, but they would never have been written if not for George W. Bush and his new adventures in Iraq–Maillard isn’t the first to see the connection between the American role in Vietnam and the American role in Iraq (he may, however, be the first to translate that feeling of déjà vu into a whole series of books).

Nonetheless, Maillard’s been writing this story for over 30 years. The story of John Dupre was originally published in the ’70s under the titles The Knife in my Hand and Cutting Through, but with several more mature novels under his belt, he decided he hadn’t done justice to the story of John Dupre the first time. However, the present series bears little resemblance to its beginnings–especially in its evocation of the era through slang and drug references.

But Maillard isn’t worried about readers getting hung up on the crude language and the pervasiveness of the drug culture in Looking Good. Since the book is, in part, a social history, he says he’s not critiquing the lifestyle and he’s not glorifying it. He also talks of the things that were going wrong in the ’60s, of the repression of information and the "things that kids did to themselves."

"There was this notion," he says, "that drug use was going to change the world... I’m not making it pretty because it wasn’t pretty." The Boston of ’68 he remembers as "heady and infectious." But by ’69, it "had already started to come apart."

The book and the series appeal on a number of levels. Because it’s a social history, some readers could get a jump on their university reading lists. But the general audience will find it illuminating as well, whether or not they remember the ’60s.

"A lot of my students weren’t born yet," Maillard says, while saying that doesn’t posit a problem. "Writing is a social act... one voice addressing another voice, and expecting an answer."

Maillard has been a full professor at the University of British Columbia since 1989, and while some literary figures, such as the legendary Alistair Macleod, have had difficulty balancing teaching with writing, Maillard has never found the combination draining.

What’s not to enjoy about "being surrounded several times a week by young people who share the same interests?" asks the 65-year-old writer. "If I didn’t teach, I’d have to hang out with boring people my own age."

Though some things can’t be taught, Maillard believes he can "save these kids some time." He’s also realistic. (He used to open every seminar by saying, "If you can do anything else, do it.")

He’s not particularly concerned that he might be teaching young writers to be his competition. "In the real word," he says, "writers are in competition for audiences, awards, etc. But on a spiritual plane, each writer has his or her job to do, and nobody else can do it."