There was a beautiful passage in one of his novels that I couldn’t quite remember and couldn’t find when I tried to look it up. So I thought I’d ask him about it when I went to see him at one of his London shows, but when I did he didn’t know. Years later, short of something to read on holiday, I bought God Bless John Wayne again in the Oxfam charity shop in Strasbourg, and found it:

I fell asleep to the stained-glass glare of a streetlight inexorably turning red, green, yellow, and red again, like so many Popsicle saints and jukebox witches burning in the Dark Ages of the heart.

I more optimistic than I used to be that things I’ve lost will eventually turn up.

I’ve started buying and listening to K.F.’s records, and am relieved that they’re very good. I wonder what it would be like to come to the books after the music. It would be nice if you could try it both ways round and see which you preferred.