Each and every one of us is seeking out a saviour. Some look for him in churches, others in converted cinemas. On Monday night, the designated spot was the Curzon, Shaftesbury Avenue.
Things had started promisingly enough: the audience had entered the auditorium to a blast from a gospel choir, and Melvyn Bragg, interceding toothsomely on our behalf with Stormin’ Norman Mailer, that Grand Old Pugilist of American Letters, had reminded us of his interviewee’s impeccable credentials: “You were hoping to bring about a revolution in people’s consciousness when you started writing,” said Melvyn. “But what exactly drove you to write?”