I have made my living bearing witness to some of the most horrific events of the end of our century, at the end of the 20th century.
How can you think about the world without factoring in the unforseen, the fluke event?
I've been trying to fit everything in, trying to get to the end before it's too late, but I see now how badly I've deceived myself. Words do not allow such things. The closer you come to the end, the more there is to say. The end is only imaginary, a destination you invent to keep yourself going, but a point comes when you realize you will never get there. You might have to stop, but that is only because you have run out of time. You stop, but that does not mean you have come to an end.
The funny thing is that I feel close to all my characters. Deep, deep inside them all. I can't describe how deeply I love them all.
We exist for ourselves, perhaps, and at times we even have a glimmer of who we are, but in the end we can never be sure, and as our lives go on, we become more and more opaque to ourselves, more and more aware of our own incoherence. No one can cross the boundary into another – for the simple reason that no one can gain access to himself.
The story is not in the words; it's in the struggle.
When I start, I have a feeling for the characters, and maybe the shape of the story. Sometimes I might even have the last sentence in mind. But, no book I've ever written has ever ended the way I thought it would. Characters disappear, others come forward. Once you start writing, everything changes.
I'm the most un-diva-ish person you'll meet. I'm never rude to people and I am always on time.
We need election reform because our elections are being stolen. And these huge powerful voting machine vending companies have privatized the election process in our country.
Contemporary industrial society is now characterised more than ever by the need for stupefying work where it is no longer a real necessity.
To build peace is difficult but to live without it is torment.