It is a strange, asymmetrical pendulum, an author’s life. Every now and then, it swings madly from customary solitude to an opposite existential space shaped by literary festivals, book signings, public talks. After spending the past two years mostly working at home in my pyjamas, talking to myself or listening to imaginary fictional characters, these days I have become a more social human being. My new novel, There Are Rivers in the Sky, has just been published.
It is an unresolved mystery to the hermit in me just how much I enjoy and appreciate doing book events. Libraries, art centres, literary festivals… Over the years, I have come to regard them as being among our last democratic spaces. Sanctuaries that keep their doors open for everyone. Cultural havens where we can slow down and find the time to hear each other out, even in this age of hyper-information and fast consumption.
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