The Car As We Know It Is

Trying To Exhaust Himself, Vaughan Devised An Endless Almanac Of Terrifying Wounds And Insane Collisions: The Lungs Of Elderly Men Punctured By Door-handles; The Chests Of Young Women Impaled On Steering-columns; The Cheek Of Handsome Youths Torn On The Chromium Latches Of Quarter-lights. To Vaughan, These Wounds Formed The Key To A New Sexuality, Born From A Perverse Technology. The Images Of These Wounds Hung In The Gallery Of His Mind, Like Exhibits In The Museum Of A Slaughterhouse.

I Work For Three Or Four Hours A Day, In The Late Morning And Early Afternoon. Then I Go Out For A Walk And Come Back In Time For A Large Gin And Tonic.

If You're Against Globalisation, It Doesn't Achieve Much By Sort Of Bombing The Head Offices Of Shell Or Nestle. You Unsettle People Much More By Blowing Up An Oxfam Shop Because People Can't Understand The Motive.

I Don't Think Any Particular Painters Have Inspired Me, Except In A General Sense. It Was More A Matter Of Corroboration. The Visual Arts, From Manet Onwards, Seemed Far More Open To Change And Experiment Than The Novel, Though That's Only Partly The Fault Of The Writers. There's Something About The Novel That Resists Innovation.

A Visit To Père Lachaise In Paris Adds A Year To One's Life