One of the reasons I write is I like being surprised

I do not believe in evil- I believe that we are human and fallible, that we things and spoil them in an ordinary way.

I am a trembling mess from hip to knee. There is a terrible heat, a looseness in my innards that makes me want to dig my fists between my thighs. It is a confusing feeling - somewhere between diarrhoea and sex - this grief that is almost genital.

I became a full-time writer in 1993 and have been very happy, insofar as anybody is, since.

I'm quite interested in the absolute roots of narrative, why we tell stories at all: where the monsters come from.

I do wish I could write like some of the American women, who can be clever and heartfelt and hopeful; people like Lorrie Moore and Jennifer Egan. But Ireland messed me up too much, I think, so I can't.

It is very hard to trace the effect of words on a life.