In person, Anne Perry is much as expected. It's not even difficult to imagine the girl Kate Winslet portrayed in the film growing to be this cultured and mature woman. She is tall, slender, perfectly coifed and turned out when I meet her: she is elegant and her bearing is regal. We meet in a busy bistro and there is noise all around. The clink of glasses, the midrange hum of a successful eatery. Somewhere at a distant table, a child cries intermittently. Perry pays attention to none of it. She meets my gaze with her own clear blue one, sits serenely and answers quietly.
Readers of Perry's Monk mysteries might even feel they recognize one of the writer's own characters in the level, intelligent gaze. In many ways, Perry reminds me of her creation: Hester Latterly. Both women possess the same maturity of style and stance, the same natural elegance and – perhaps – even a bit of the same background.
Perry has not been an overnight sensation. Still relatively unknown in her native United Kingdom, Perry's North American audience has been growing in modulated spurts since the publication of her first book,
Perry is committed to publishing two books per year: a 'Pitt novel in the spring, and a Monk novel in the fall.' And while a pace like that might leave other writers breathless, Perry feels she works consistently but not at breakneck speed. With time enough, in fact, to occasionally focus on other projects. Two of these projects have been of special interest to Perry of late: a film version of
Anne Perry: I work reasonably hard. Though probably not harder than many people. I work probably eight or nine hours a day, six days a week.
Yes. Plus a few short stories. I'm not planning to slow up. I normally do two a year. I've done two a year since 1990.
Yes, right at the beginning of 1979. That was
Yes. Between 45 and 50 miles north of Inverness. In the Highlands. With one dog and five cats.
Whatever I'm doing at the moment because it might just work out exactly right. My heart is always in whatever I'm doing at the time.
I lived near San Francisco for about six months and in the Los Angeles area for four and a half years in the late 60s.
Yes, I guess you make your own world. And also illness has that effect as well. And I had a lot of childhood illness. Not since then, thank goodness. But it does. Because you have to live within your mind because there's not much you can do outside it.
Yes there is. But my editor said to me, 'Don't do it every time. It gets a bit…' you know? And I thought she was right. It's agreeable or I wouldn't have done it, but just to leave it for a while. But I've got something planned where we're going to discover a great deal more about his mentor. And he's going to be forced to discover things he'd much rather not know about both his mentor and himself. And it's really going to put it on the line.
Yes. Of course I am. I put the pen down to come here. I am a third of the way through the Pitt for the spring of 2000. And they have the Pitt for next spring which will be called
Yes. I do. How did you guess?
I think it's a terrible thing to write and not enjoy it. It's a sad thing. But of course a lot of people do work because they need to eat. And we all need to eat, but that's not the only reason to work. You couldn't have paid me not to write. If you said you'd give me x thousand – or a hundred thousand dollars, or a million dollars a year – not to write I would tell you to keep your money, because what am I going to do? You've got to do it. I think it's the same for people who act or sing or play music or dance, whatever.
I was 38, approximately. Well, I guess I was when it was accepted. I was 41 when it was published. Or 40.
I like Rathbone. And I thought the structure of the story called for Rathbone to be investigating at that point