It was all wrong, ugly, unhappy and coloured with cynicism, but nothing was tragic, there were no moments that could change anything or anybody. From time to time the emotional lightning flashed and showed a landscape of private misery, and then — we went on dancing.

The critics slap labels on you and then expect you to talk inside their terms.

I never thought of London in terms of possible heroes - of course, there are thousands. It's a very talented city.

I wanted to write about my mother as she should have been if she had not been messed up by World War I.

But there is no doubt that to attempt a novel of ideas is to give oneself a handicap: the parochialism of our culture is intense. For instance, decade after decade bright young men and women emerge from their universities able to say proudly: 'Of course I know nothing about German literature.' It is the mode. The Victorians knew everything about German literature, but were able with a clear conscience not to know much about the French.

There's always this sense of incredulity that writers feel, because they're usually living flat and ordinary lives, because they have to.

Sometimes I think what I write is funny in its quiet way.