DH: I have a number of questions here and my first one is: Who, if not yourself, are you? (3) [laughter]. No, you don't have to answer that! The first question is: Having written now for thirty, forty years, (4) can you say what prompted you to write in the first instance? JB: I suppose everyone wants to find a way of mediating the world. In practical terms, though: My brother was in Africa when I was quite young (5)--I was about eleven or twelve--and among many books that he sent me was Joyce's Dubliners. I was very taken with it and I immediately started writing short stories in imitation--very bad imitations. I threw them all away, but I remember one opening line especially: "The white May blossoms swooned into the open mouth of the grave" (6) [laughter]. Well I suppose we all begin by imitation. Before that I had only read detective stories and P.G. Wodehouse and the like, and here suddenly was something that was new to me, something about real life, as I was experiencing it myself, I thought it was something to emulate.
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