The single most terrifying moment of my adult life occurred at 8.55 a.m. on the morning of Tuesday 5 August 2008. I had a written a novel, Typhoon, in which disenfranchised Uighur Muslims in China’s Xinjiang province riot against the Han government. By coincidence, a few days before publication, large numbers of Uighurs started doing exactly that, in a curious real-life echo of the book.
James Naughtie had read Typhoon and wanted to get me onto the Today programme to talk about it. It was like receiving a royal summons. But as the minutes ticked down towards the interview, I was transformed into a pitiless, gibbering wreck, so nervous of making a fool of myself on national radio that I was tempted to bolt for the door.
Naughtie could see he had a problem. With practised skill, he eased into the Green Room, coated me in jokes and flattery, then led me into the studio for a conversation that passed in a blur and seemed to go without a hitch.
When it was all over, we talked about spy thrillers.
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