Ian Fleming


No, not James Bond, Ian Fleming. It was 1987 and I had (almost) all his books in my father’s library, all binded with his initials – which, not really by coincidence, were the same as mine. So those books felt like they were mine and Ian Fleming was the first of many authors I discovered there. I knew James Bond, at that time, but the whole mythos wasn’t really built inside me. Ian Fleming’s prose is unmistakeable – classy and very erotic. Ian Fleming whispers in my ears when I write about Peter Zarustica’s adventures.