This kind of thing always makes me laugh. What, the actors who played roles 40 years ago don't look the same now as they did then?

My eldest son has just read his first Toni Morrison (the story Recitaf). He loved it, and was full of questions about it afterwards. Teachers, have you taught this story? If not, I think it's a brilliant introduction to one of the greatest ever writers.

I once received a review in a national newspaper of record that said my work was "staggeringly bleak". This new story might top that.

There are some really interesting books coming this year. This is one of those I am most excited about. I've loved Keith Ridgway's work since I read The Parts in 2003. If you haven't read him, I think you should.

This is such a seismic story I'm almost surprised I haven't got a book publishing today.

I'm on a bus. Almost everyone has their phones on loud, people watching videos, the racing, having video calls. It's like being in Vegas but without the drinks and faded glamour.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this since watching on Saturday night. A sort-of documentary on Don DeLillo, featuring him talking but not being interviewed, it is utterly hypnotizing. But the key thing for me was that this was broadcast on BBC1. BBC1! www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_dH...

This is one of the most impressive debuts I've read in years. The prose is quiet, yet rich; moving yet beautiful. Rebecca Perry is a exhilarating talent and May We Feed the King a novel of rare power.

This might be a controversial opinion, but after sitting through the full 2 hours 39 minutes of Brad Pitt's FI, I'm fairly confident it isn't going to win the Best Picture Oscar. Even if I hadn't seen many films from 2025 - or had never before seen a film - I'd be similarly confident.

I saw Blue Moon last night. Brilliant performances, especially from Ethan Hawke, and downbeat moving. Like a night at the theatre, but on my own sofa.

I'm off to see Lost Highway for the first time. It's significant, because 97 was when I lost most of my passion for cinema and going to the cinema. One day I was working at the 051 in Liverpool, the next, I wasn't bothered to see one of my idols' new film. By then, I think, I was lost to books.

Over New Year, I accidentally called the fridge with all the soft drinks in it the Non Fiction section and now all non-alcoholic drinks will forever be non fiction beers etc.

I've never read Beryl Bainbridge, but this piece really makes me want to. harpers.org/archive/2026...

It's PLR day, in which I congratulate those who borrowed by books, and have enough extra money to buy half of a pair of relatively decent shin pads.

It's been an incredible run, but it's finally over. I think for the first time ever, I'm going to not enjoy a New York Review Books book.

My last novel turns 6 this year and what better way to celebrate its depiction of Cold-War nuclear terror than by living through it all over again.

When everyone leave the house of a morning, I like to go round the house turning off all the lights, each room the next leg on an epic farewell world tour, culminating with the bathroom, when I press the switch and say Goodnight, Wembley!

Can you guess the film from the warning?

In the early years of Twitter, I used to write a Christmas story based on prompts from followers. My favourite involved Noel Edmonds, beef jerky and the end of the world. If you'd like to see this Christmas tradition revived, reply with a prompt or two. Might be fun.

Genuinely shocked at the death of Tom Stoppard. I loved his work so much, but Rosencrantz & Guildenstern was an absolutely foundational text for me. A total one off, singular writer. The world is a poorer place without him.

After having read Lord of the Flies for the first time alongside my eldest son, we're now going into Brave New World, another book I somehow missed out on reading when I was 14.

I am about to write a David Foster Wallace (It's about x but it's really about all of us) style pitch for an article about Adidas' Customer Service and their truly outrageous, once-in-a generation ineptitude. It will be over 5,000 words and will make you weep over a pair of football boots.

Went to see All My Sons at the Wyndham's last night. Cried twice. The play has its holes and its didactic lines, but Bryan Cranston, Marianne Jean-Baptiste & Paapa Essiedu were utterly mesmerising. It felt vital and urgent and from the heart, and you should try to see it if you can.

I went to pay homage at Thomas Bernhard's grave in Vienna. A few minutes later, I was locked in the cemetery and had to try to flag down the caretaker to let me out. It was pitch black aside from the many candles guttering on the graves. I was unnerved, but I expect TB thought it hilarious.

Showed my 12 year old Pretty in Pink the other night. Was hoping to have that bonding over seminal teenage angst, but as with so many things my memory of it was nothing like the reality. This Duckie, my son said, is an absolute creep. Why is she hanging out with him? I had no answer to that.

Just finished THE DEVIL BOOK by Asta Olivia Nordenhof, and am again floored by her intimate and expressive concision. It's also very funny in places. I can't wait for the next in this radical suite of novels.

Went to see The Weir last night. Was slightly apprehensive as the reviews have been so good, but it was absolutely superb. Perfect writing and ensemble cast. If you can get a ticket, make the effort, it's worth it.

I watched The Brutalist last night. I was expecting to love it. I mean really love it. How could I not? And yet I thought it almost unbearably pointless. Acting, visuals, music all stunning, but there is something vital missing at its heart that stops it from really coming to life.

So it's Lazlo!

I also really love that the biggest announcement in world literature looks like it's a book talk at a provincial literary festival running in its first year.

We've had some really deserved Nobel Laureates over the last few years, so I really hope that streak continues.

Last night, I finished Vilhelm's Room by Tove Ditlevsen (trans Sophia Hersi Smith & Jennifer Russell) and its violent, defiant sadness is still lingering around this morning. There are moments of great beauty in the despair, and also humour, but still it feels like the aftermath of a slap.

Tony Harrison's death robs us of one of the most important voices of recent years. His poetry spoke to me like very few others. Rest in V signs, TH.

It's an interesting Booker List, with a couple of curveballs in there (surprised not to see Universality make the cut, for example). I've read 4, and am looking forward to the Kieran Desai, but for me my big hope is that the wildly divisive Audition by Katie Kitamura wins.

This is the greatest author picture of all time. A great writer too.

This is the greatest author picture of all time. A great writer too.

Absolutely devastated to hear about the death of Jonathan Main, one of the most exceptional, joyful, knowledgeable and funny people in the literary world. He was the bookseller's bookseller, a friend to authors and books, and a passionate advocate for great writing. He will be missed beyond words.

This pair have brightened a darkening year. Meet Nico and Komi.

I took this photograph and now want to write a novel that can use it on the cover.

This is so exciting - can't wait to explore these.

This was a nice thing to see this morning.

I find the week before going on holiday a productive time to read as I can't justify taking a half read book on holiday with me. Now cramming in as much time with Flashlight by Susan Choi as possible. Helps that it's largely wonderful.

Goodbye to this queen. Survived 13 months longer than prognosis and was fucking mint throughout all of them. Je t'aime, Margot. RIP

I recently discovered that a film was made of Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont in 2005. Last night I sat down to watch it. Oh my. If there is one way (and in this film they find multiple) to piss heartily on the sublime magic of Elizabeth Taylor, it's to set the film in the present day.

I'm off to Trieste in a couple of weeks. Any recommendations?

It's been a while since I've read a Delillo and there's always a little worry that the paranoid chill won't work on me any more. And yet, it always feels like a reset. A hymn to the power of American English sentences. The glorious sheen of his prose.

After spending most of my running time listening to late 19th and early 20th Century European novels, I've now gone over the pond and am listening Delillo's The Names, which is one of his I've never read. It is a tonic. A strange tonic, mind you.

There are moments of sublime writing in Susan Choi's FLASHLIGHT; moments too of exquisite understanding, of surprising insight. It's been a while since I've read a longish book that has hooked me so quickly.

Reading glasses

Had an intense evening in with The Mobius Book last night. Catherine Lacey is one of the most interesting, arresting writers, and I can feel it leaving little legacies for a long time to come.