I can’t stop whispering sweet nothings to the American novelist
Donna Tartt. It’s quite a name. She’s quite a lady.
American, petite (five foot tall), fun and absurdly young for 61, she became famous when she published her first novel, The Secret History, in 1992. Her third, The Goldfinch, won her the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2014. She spends around ten years working on each book.
I find her look irresistible: dark hair, near central parting, boyish clothes. (She has featured on the Vanity Fair international ‘best-dressed’ list.). I find her company compelling. Given that she is regularly described as a ‘literary genius’ and ‘notorious recluse’, I am lucky to know her.
I am luckier still because, between us, we have a special arrangement. When we meet, we only say three words to each other: ‘I love you.’ Nothing else.
You may find this hard to believe, but it’s true. We don’t need any other small talk. ‘I love you’ cuts to the chase.
At a party or in the street, if Donna and I come face to face, all we say is ‘I love you.’ We might say it consecutively or in unison; we might repeat it several times. We say it as we meet and as we part. We don’t say anything else in between. It’s wonderful. And what’s interesting is that, in the moment, I think we mean it.
The last time I saw Donna was in London, in the street outside Clarence House. We had both been guests at a gala gathering hosted by Queen Camilla to celebrate The Queen’s Reading Room, Her Majesty’s charity to encourage and spread the simple joy of reading.
The King was there, too: whenever he can, he turns up unheralded to support his wife’s endeavours.
It was a brilliant bash with a serious purpose. The charity works at several levels, organising starry literary festivals open to all (the next is at Chatsworth House in September) and providing free books in hostels for people who may be homeless or sheltering from domestic abuse.
During the evening, the Queen made a speech announcing the launch of The Queen’s Reading Room Medal, a prize to be given each year to a community reading champion.
If you know someone – a teacher, a librarian, a friend – who does something special to encourage reading, do nominate them. You will find the details here: thequeensreadingroom.co.uk/nomination.
This summer, I am marking a personal anniversary. It is exactly 60 years since I began interviewing interesting people.
My very first interview was with the local vicar for the school magazine. My opening question was ‘Why do you believe in God?’ ‘Because He is ultimately unavoidable’ was the Reverend Snelgar’s concise reply.
My second interview for the school magazine was with the then President of Switzerland. Maurice Chaudet was his name and I had met him by chance on a Swiss summer holiday. It was, as you might expect, my first interview with a head of state.
Over the years since, I have been lucky enough to interview an assortment of presidents, princes and prime ministers, but I don’t think any of them has ever given me such straightforward answers as Monsieur Chaudet did for the Bedales Chronicle.
In Switzerland, women did not get the vote in federal elections until 1973. This interview was in the mid-sixties – so I asked the President why it was that women weren’t yet enfranchised. ‘Because men and women are not equal,’ he replied. ‘The sexes may be complementary, but they are certainly not equal. Man is absorbed in his professional, political, social and military life, while the woman’s place is in the home.’
‘When there was last a national referendum on the matter and the referendum was open to all, how did your own wife vote?’ I asked.
‘Oh, she didn’t,’ he said amiably. ‘She couldn’t. I locked her in the bathroom for the day.’
Nowadays, for my podcast Rosebud, I am interviewing at least two interesting people a week. My guests have ranged from Dame Judi Dench to Sir Keir Starmer, but none has been more exciting than the actress Rachael Stirling.
Twenty-five years ago I interviewed Rachael’s mother, Dame Diana Rigg. She was exciting, too: intelligent, funny, sexy. As I remember, we talked quite a bit about sex. Not as much as I would have liked, but the interview was for the Sunday Telegraph.
For the Rosebud podcast, Rachael and I also talked about sex. At length and con brio. Rachael, as tall and beautiful as her mum, is gloriously uninhibited and ready to go into sensational anatomical detail.
A woman of experience, now happily married to singer-songwriter and Elbow front man Guy Garvey, she told me that she and Guy freely discuss the fun they had with other people before they got together. They find it quite a turn-on.
I found her quite a turn-on. If you listen to our conversation, I suspect you will, too. It’s hilarious, but not for the faint-hearted. When we had finished the recording, we fed each other strawberries and said ‘I love you.’ We said it again in our post-podcast emails.
With Donna, three words are just enough. With Rachael, I’m telling you, there is so much more to say.
The Gyles Brandreth Can’t Stop Talking Tour is on the road until June
