"This is a deeply soulful novel that comprehends love and cruelty, and separates the big people from the small of heart, without ever losing sympathy for those unfortunates who don’t know how to live properly. Hurston is a lyrical writer, and lyricism is not usually my cup of tea, but there are talents that go beyond genre and taste. Her greatest claim over me is that she never was ashamed of the novel as a form—she believed in the transformative power of storytelling, and she took risks with sentiment that few contemporary writers are prepared to make. This book is a part of my character now—that’s how many times I’ve read it. I don’t look to fiction to find heroes, but I have to admit that Janie has meant more to me than any other character. She’s singing my song, somehow. And you realize the breadth of Hurston’s talent when you find out how many other people feel exactly the same way."

"Terry Gilliam is a living treasure, and we are squandering him foolishly with every film of his that remains unmade. Proof that our world is the poorer for this can be found in two of his masterpieces. Gilliam is a fabulist pregnant with images—exploding with them, actually—and fierce, untamed imagination. He understands that “bad taste” is the ultimate declaration of independence from the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie. He jumps with no safety net and drags us with him into a world made coherent only by his undying faith in the tale he is telling. Brazil remains one of the most important films of my life, and Time Bandits is a Roald Dahl–ian landmark to all fantasy films. Seeing Time Bandits with my youngest daughter just two weeks ago, I was delighted when she laughed and rejoiced at the moment when Kevin’s parents explode into a cloud of smoke."

"Terry Gilliam is a living treasure, and we are squandering him foolishly with every film of his that remains unmade. Proof that our world is the poorer for this can be found in two of his masterpieces. Gilliam is a fabulist pregnant with images—exploding with them, actually—and fierce, untamed imagination. He understands that “bad taste” is the ultimate declaration of independence from the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie. He jumps with no safety net and drags us with him into a world made coherent only by his undying faith in the tale he is telling. Brazil remains one of the most important films of my life, and Time Bandits is a Roald Dahl–ian landmark to all fantasy films. Seeing Time Bandits with my youngest daughter just two weeks ago, I was delighted when she laughed and rejoiced at the moment when Kevin’s parents explode into a cloud of smoke."

"Neu! has to represent Cluster, Conny Plank, Kraftwerk, David Bowie, Brian Eno. It's an extraordinary piece of work. I was introduced to it when I first went to art college. There was a guy called Tony Fowler who was the polytechnic DJ and he was a little bit older that everybody else. I wheedled my way in and became the sorcerer's apprentice or whatever, thinking I could get my taste on there instead. He played me this and at the time I was very confused by it. I thought I was quite... I listened to Captain Beefheart and Pink Floyd and good stuff, but this was really challenging, the minimalism I guess. I can honestly say it didn't make me go, 'Aha! This is ze future!', but many years later, after I'd had it in the car stereo, I remember Klara saying, 'Papa, you've been playing 'Hallogallo' for two years, can we hear something else?' I was going: 'But it fits! It fits! It's perfect every time!'"

"The first one is Wild Strawberries by Ingmar Bergman. It’s what I saw when I was 15, and it showed me that films could be something more than just entertainment or going and staring at girls in the cinema or whatever, but film could have the kind of weight of a book or something like that. I used to be a big reader, and I loved going to the movies, but I had no sense of taste in the movies. You know, I grew up in a suburb of London, and I went to school in the middle of London, and that’s when I found myself, one wet afternoon, in an arthouse, and there was Wild Strawberries, and that, for me, was the beginning of it all. It had so many ideas, and it played with dreams, and I thought, “Oh my God. This is quite something.” So it really was a kind of major event in my life."

"When I was a kid, the ending of this movie, where Kevin’s parents touch pure evil and explode, scared the shit out of me. I know Brazil is technically the more mature of Terry Gilliam’s films, and yet this is the one I go back to again and again. I’ve watched it many, many times since then, and I still don’t understand how it works. Gilliam creates an entirely plausible alternate universe with its own unspoken internal rules. It’s nightmarish and yet taps into what every kid desires/fears . . . the need for life beyond the yoke of one’s family. That last moment—which I’m sure was just a goofy set joke—was my first taste of existentialism. It freaked me out. I still don’t cerebrally understand why that moment ends the film. And yet it somehow works. I have yet to introduce this film to my daughter. Not sure when/if I will."

"My sister was into that kind of music. She could afford records, I didn't have a job or anything, I was a kid. That was one of the first albums I really heard, it wasn't until later on that I began to really appreciate what an amazing record it is, sound-wise. I think it's the best album ever made. It has changed for me over the years. I bought a really good stereo system, and suddenly I'm hearing this record like it's meant to be heard. It blew me away. I know it's not got pop songs or anything, but it's just perfection, all the tracks are really exciting. I think it's really out there somewhere. My best friend, every Saturday we'd go to the record shop and buy a single each. Then we'd go back to his house and argue all afternoon about who had the best taste. I was never afraid or ashamed of the things that I liked."