One Thing You Learn About The Novel

It Was In The Air, Or So It Seemed To Kiki, This Hatred Of Women And Their Bodies- It Seeped In With Every Draught In The House; People Brought It Home On Their Shoes, They Breathed It In Off Their Newspapers. There Was No Way To Control It.

For Example, You Have These Grotesque, Hilarious, Profane Ghosts In The Book [lincoln In The Bardo]. Even The Concept Of Talking Ghosts Is, From An Aesthetic Point Of View, Grotesque. But You Seem Compelled By That Risk In Order To Get To The Other End Of The Equation.

I Wrote 'white Teeth' In The Late Nineties. I Didn't Really Feel Trepidatious About It. It Was A Different Time.

This Because It Is Never Really Very Cold In England. It Is Drizzly, And The Wind Will Blow; Hail Happens, And There Is A Breed Of Tuesday In January In Which Time Creeps And No Light Comes And The Air Is Full Of Water And Nobody Really Loves Anybody, But Still A Decent Jumper And A Waxen Jacket Lined With Wool Is Sufficient For Every Weather England's Got To Give.

It’s Such A Confidence Trick, Writing A Novel. The Main Person You Have To Trick Into Confidence Is Yourself. This Is Hard To Do Alone.