The angle-free author

Here’s the strange thing about Ann Patchett: you could, as I have done, read every single one of her novels and still feel like you haven’t the slightest clue about what she’s like personally.

As Patchett, 43, sits sipping a glass of water in a Dublin hotel, modestly dressed, with neat hair and an intense stare that feels a little discomfiting at times, it’s hard to shake the odd feeling that there are ...