A book, at the same time, also has to do with what I call a buzz in the head. It's a certain kind of music that I start hearing. It's the music of the language, but it's also the music of the story. I have to live with that music for a while before I can put any words on the page. I think that's because I have to get my body as much as my mind accustomed to the music of writing that particular book. It really is a mysterious feeling.

Dismantling the architecture of my discontent

I wrote Report from the Interior was that after I finished Winter Journal, I took a pause, and I realized there was more I wanted to say.

There are often references to childhood, but they're rarely the focus of the [my] novels.

I think if we didn't contradict ourselves, it would be awfully boring. It would be tedious to be alive.

But lost chances are as much a part of life as chances taken, and a story cannot dwell on what might have been.

Most people are participating in the grand adventure of living with one another.