You know, Greenwich Village was the traditional bohemia of New York. I wish I could say that was entirely true now. It's, uh... changed. It's now got, God help us, investment bankers and journalists, but it's still a very beautiful part of New York.
If being a spokesman for a generation is a fleeting occupation, being a symbol of an era is downright dangerous for anyone who has the bad luck to outlive it.
Mine is not an autonomous imagination.
I certainly think that the publishing houses have to learn more about this informal network of literary blogging and get over the idea that sending an author on a book tour - to Dallas, Houston, Los Angeles - is a successful model anymore.
Most of the people I write about have been ambitious outlanders who have been attracted to New York from other parts of the world.
Most novelists I know went through a period of intense self-examination and self-loathing after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. I certainly did.
The most interesting things that happen in my books are usually the things that arise spontaneously, the things that surprise me.
I don't want to have my life fall apart for my work.
Love is the eternal quest: almost everyone wants to love and be loved.
Add anchovies to almost anything, in moderation, and it will taste better.