Why do you write?

Storytelling in all its forms is one way of having something curious, strange, and comforting to say to others and ourselves when we are faced with the malaise of the real.

Are you a vivid dreamer?

Yes, hugely. But I no longer have much of a theory of dream interpretation. I do know that dreams have no place in fiction.

Where are you happiest?

At a long dinner or lunch with fine companions where anything can be said. I once said in an interview that I belonged to a think-tank called Wining and Dining.

What is your favourite word?

Volupté. I once wrote a story called ‘Where Is Volupté – When You Need It Most?’

Which human quality do you most admire?

Curiosity and urbanity. Either will do.

Where would you like to have been born?

Maybe fin-de-siècle Vienna. I think I would have found volupté there more often.

What is your favourite book?

Alice in Wonderland.

And your favourite literary hero and heroine?

George Eliot – she showed me how to weave the personal with the civic.Dr Johnson – he made good use of his miserableness and enlightened us with it.

What, if anything, impedes your writing?

Fatigue is my enemy: I have trouble stopping writing – it is a hard discipline to learn.

How old were you when your first book appeared?

Twenty-six: Futility and Other Animals (1969). It was printed and reviewed but never distributed because the publisher went bankrupt and the books remained in their packing cases in a warehouse for years.

Of which of your books are you fondest?

I do not have that sort of ranking in my head.

In a phrase, how would you characterise your work?

I think I try to tell elaborate stories that I hope will entertain the intellect and give aesthetic pleasure while being good stories.

Who is your favourite author?

I do not have that sort of ranking in my head.

How do you regard publishers?

I have had enriching and productive relationships with publishers. At its best it is a strange, noble human enterprise that tries to serve art and commerce and gambling.

What do you think of the state of criticism?

Some of us argued that Canadian critics should review our novels and we should review theirs – that way we would avoid the personal baggage which ultimately encrusts criticism.

If you had your time over again, would you choose to be a writer?

As a teenager, I told the vocational guidance person at my country high school that I wanted to be 1) a short story writer, or 2) an army officer, or 3) an expressive dancer. I would give the same answer.

What do you think of writers’ festivals?

They are a remarkable and hopeful phenomen – mass affirmations by readers of the importance and pleasure of good writing.

Do you feel artists are valued in our society?

I am often intrigued and humbled by the honour and tribute frequently shown to writers of books in Australia.

What are you working on now?

I think my next book will be an exploration of my lifetime of solitary trekking in the wilderness.