A vision of the little house in Soho flickered across his mind’s eye, his mother at a desk, writing in her journal, with hazy sunlight streaming through the morning windows. The woman inhabited a world he had once thought his own – a world of publishers and reliable suppliers. A London that was confident and competent amid its grey, puddle-strewn streets.

Researching books gets you into nothing but trouble.

Books exist for me not as physical entities with pages and binding, but in the province of my mind.

There are as many different kinds of books as there are writers - as many different responses as there are readers.

No one's book is perfect.

Bookshops are at the coalface of our industry.

Digital distribution has widened the reading world.

She curled sideways into the milky light of the bedside lamp and began to read.