Joanne Harris
Joanne Harris
Joanne Michèle Sylvie Harris, MBEis an English author, best known for her award-winning novel Chocolat which was later turned into a successful film. The film adaption was released in 2000, directed by Lasse Hallström and starring Juliette Binoche, Judi Dench, Alfred Molina, Lena Olin and Johnny Depp. It was nominated for 8 BAFTAS and 5 Oscars...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth3 July 1964
summer wind rushing
We came in the wind of the carnival. A wind of change, or promises. The merry wind, the magical wind, making March hares of everyone, tumbling blossoms and coat-tails and hats; rushing towards summer in a frenzy of exuberance.
ideas
I'm phobic about the idea of being constrained.
pioneers fiction use
Of course I didn't pioneer the use of food in fiction: it has been a standard literary device since Chaucer and Rabelais, who used food wonderfully as a metaphor for sensuality.
loss thinking hell
To be closed from everything, and yet to feel, to think...This is the truth of hell, stripped of its gaudy medievalisms. This loss of contact.
challenges trying want
I have a tendency to pick up my own challenges. The more difficult something it is, the more I want to try it.
toasts
I am not at all a chocoholic. I would rather eat anchovy toast.
criticism way coping
As authors, we all expect criticism from time to time, and we all have our ways of coping with unfriendly reviews.
drama autumn doors
I like autumn. The drama of it; the golden lion roaring through the back door of the year, shaking its mane of leaves. A dangerous time; of violent rages and deceptive calm, of fireworks in the pockets and conkers in the fist.
summer memories betrayal
Wine talks; ask anyone. The oracle at the street corner; the uninvited guest at the wedding feast; the holy fool. It ventriloquizes. It has a million voices. It unleashes the tongue, teasing out secrets you never meant to tell, secrets you never even knew. It shouts, rants, whispers. It speaks of great plans, tragic loves, and terrible betrayals. It screams with laughter. It chuckles softly to itself. It weeps in front of its own reflection. It revives summers long past and memories best forgotten. Every bottle a whiff of other times, other places, everyone...a humble miracle
horse wish beggar
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
maps recipes
I carried recipes in my head like maps.
english france french home met spoke student teaching until visited
We spoke French at home and I didn't know any English until I went to school. My mother was French and met my father when he visited France as a student on a teaching placement.
books certainly life paid suddenly throwing
Writing books and being paid for it - it's not like winning the Lottery. You can't suddenly go, 'Yippee!' and start throwing tenners in the air. I've done pretty well out of it, but certainly not enough to say, 'Right, that's me set up for life.'
constantly life myriad people position putting using
When I write, I'm constantly putting myself in the position of someone else as I write using myriad voices; I think that's a life skill all people should learn.