![]() My favourite is predictably the least successful, Signs for Lost Children. ![]() The book I’d most like to be remembered for ![]() and Other Stories, Elanor Dymott’s Silver & Salt. Miriam Toews’s All My Puny Sorrows, Eley Williams’s Attrib. I’ve moved my eyes over the pages, but that’s not always reading. The book I’m most ashamed not to have read Nicola Barker’s wildness and capacity for the absurd often delight me. I was appropriately and memorably disturbed by Mercè Rodoreda’s brilliant Death in Spring. I don’t believe in tears as a currency of literary criticism. Generally I’m happy to start more books than I finish. It’s very good but I overestimated my capacity for 900 pages of mid-20th century German experimental prose. Most recently, Albert Vigoleis Thelen, The Island of Second Sight. Most good books change readers’ minds a little, that’s what they are for. The last book that made me cry? I don’t believe in tears as a currency of literary criticism I think it’s called The Great American Novel. The one where the white male American literature/history professor has a midlife crisis and sleeps with a student he despises, thus ending the marriage to the wife he despises and obliging him to move in with the mother he despises. Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel showed me the literary possibilities of historical fiction in a new way. The one I promised my US editor last year … ![]()
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