First Howl: Bob Dylan

I was never happier than when I was writing my second novel, in my third year of university, and that happiness was chiefly because of one reason -- BOB DYLAN. Of course, I'd also credit The Rolling Stones and The Beatles, but Bob Dylan's music really gave me a joy for life at the age of twenty. For once, the world became an incredible place, a map for exploring, full of train-tracks, airport runways and highways (61) that would take you to far-off, exotic places. Dylan's music is an ode to travel, just like On the Road, but Dylan's music hearkens back even older -- to Homer and the Odyssey. I love him so much.

While I wrote First Howl, I listened to The Rolling Stones, but throughout the rest of the day I listened to Bob Dylan. There's a lot of Bob, early Bob, in Wally Pierrepoint and his jester-joker persona, strumming away on his mandolin -- he's a very Another Side of Bob Dylan character. But, of course, my big tribute to Bob was the main character's brother, Bobby. He was the thing Sylvia loved most in the world. Bob was the thing I loved most in the world.

Nowadays when I listen to Bob, there's an incredible amount of sadness, the comedown of Simple Twist of Fate after Tangled Up in Blue; I've done my fair share of travelling, and I've been destroyed by it. After my third year, I went to Bristol and then Oxford, and at Oxford, my love of Bob was forever altered to the extent I listen to him now with incredible, immense sorrow: like the prodigal son returning to his father.