Paranoia can be a sign of a sanity in some circumstances, in some places and times.

We're getting used to reality and fantasy passing into each other. Much of the border between them has been erased.

I like a great degree of compression. I like to mix lateral steps with forward ones. I don't want the prose ever to feel simply functional - at least not for any stretch.

I just write what I want to read, and sometimes keeping it interesting means adding one more element that ends up adding another year to the work.

The novel's not the best form for disposing ideas, though that's one thing it can do. It likely is the best form, though, for conveying the experience of us each being alone, trapped in our skulls with only these bodies and this imperfect instrument of language to convey our state and to find meaning and connection.

Trauma, and certain important experiences, can imprint on us at a genetic level.

It's fiction's job to express how it feels to be living now, and it's a complex feeling, full of contradiction. To me it often feels like a brutal trivialization of reality.