I don’t write two books in the same place. I seem to have settled on a chair that I write. I’m very happy with it.
Anne Enright, interview with The Independent (London, UK), May 5, 2012.
Choose a favourite author, and say why you admire her/him
Alice Munro. It’s difficult to sum up why in one sentence. She’s the kind of writer who lasts for a lifetime. I’ve been reading her for 30 years and she is as relevant, or more relevant, as she was when I started out.
ANNE ENRIGHT IS COMING TO NEW YORK CITY
April 19 - McNally Jackson - 7PM (in conversation with Meghan O’Rourke)
April 20 - KGB Bar - 7PM
Anne Enright is the author of two volumes of stories and four novels, including The Gathering, which won the 2007 Man Booker Prize, and The Forgotten Waltz. Her most recent book is Making Babies: Stumbling Into Motherhood. She lives in Dublin, Ireland.
(Photo by Derek Speirs for the New York Times)
This makes me so sad. I don’t think she’ll ever visit my country. :(
I loved Conor then. I really did love him, and all the versions of him I had invented, in those houses, in my head, I loved them all. And I loved some essential thing too; the sense of him I carried around with me, which was confirmed each time I saw him, or a few strange seconds later. We knew each other. Our real life was in some shared head space; our bodies were just the place we used to play. Maybe that’s the way lovers should be - not these besotted fuck-witted strangers that are myself and Seán, these actors in a bare room.
Desperate to have this book!
Booker Prize winner Anne Enright returns this month with The Forgotten Waltz, a wry novel of passion and infidelity. She came all the way from Ireland to Bookish HQ and gave us insights about working in television, writing fiction, and which one put her flat on her back.
"I do not know the truth, or I do not know how to tell the truth. All I have are stories, night thoughts, the sudden convictions that uncertainty spawns. All I have are ravings, more like. She loved him! I say. She must have loved him! I wait for the kind of sense that dawn makes, when you have not slept. I stay downstairs while the family breathes above me and I write it down, I lay them out in nice sentences, all my clean, white bones.”