In the early 1990s, I was sent by the books editor of a national newspaper to interview Anthony Burgess, author of A Clockwork Orange. He was in England to promote the second volume of his autobiography, You’ve Had Your Time. I rang his doorbell – in a West End hotel – and waited. No answer. I rang again. The same. I was just about to get into the lift, when I heard a door open, turned, and there he was, peeping out of his room – I can only say furtively. He saw me and called out, in that melodious voice of his, ‘Come along, boy. Come along!’ ‘Boy’? I think I was 49 at the time. Later on, during our interview, I said he had a pleasing, melodious voice. His reply was archetypically Burgess: ‘Don’t say “melodious”. Say “canorous”.’ There was still a trace of his hometown, Manchester, in...
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