(photograph by Alexis Jabour)Caro Llewellyn is the author of four works of non-fiction, including her Stella Prize-shortlisted memoir, Diving into Glass (2019).  For more than three decades, she has worked with writers variously in publishing and as a festival director and human rights advocate in Australia, France, and the United States, where she lives. Love Unedited, her first novel, is published this month.

If you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would it be?

Somewhere where people are put above profits and greed, and where those fleeing persecution are welcomed and supported, not treated like criminals.

What’s your idea of hell?

The United States in 2025 and the many other countries dangerously following the playbook that got us here.

What do you consider the most specious virtue?

Sentimentality. As a practical person, I dislike sentimentality’s ability to crowd out reason.

What’s your favourite film?

A French movie from 2012 called De rouille et d’os or Rust and Bone in English, directed by Jacques Audiard. The script combined two unconnected short stories by Canadian author Craig Davidson: ‘Rust and Bone’ and ‘Rocket Ride’.

And your favourite book?

I find it impossible to walk to a shelf, pick one out of so many and say, ‘This is it, this is my favourite!’ Gilead by Marilynne Robinson would be one, What I Loved by Siri Hustvedt another, Tiger’s Eye by Inga Clendinnen, Bel Canto by Ann Patchett …

Name the three people with whom you would most like to dine.

In 2011, I was invited to the White House as the guest of Philip Roth, who was being awarded the National Humanities Medal by then President Barack Obama. Unfortunately, I was overseas and couldn’t attend, but I would really have liked to be at that dinner with Philip, and Barack and Michelle Obama.

Which word do you most dislike, and which one would you like to see back in public usage?

The word ‘that’ has quietly crept into overuse. When we say it in a spoken sentence, it’s not so annoying, but nine times out of ten when you read the word that in a sentence, you could lose it and lose none of the meaning. Once you start looking for it, you see it’s everywhere and, in most cases, superfluous and supremely annoying. I’m all for a little cussing every now and then.

Who is your favourite author?

Since I first read her astonishing book Nine Parts of Desire many decades ago now, Geraldine Brooks has been a writer whose next book I await eagerly. I’m very much looking forward to her new memoir. Like Joan Didion, Geraldine will make something beautiful and lasting from loss and pain.

And your favourite literary hero or heroine?

Scout and her father Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird.

Which qualities do you most admire in a writer?

An unflinching view of the world, plus deep empathy for human frailty.

Which book influenced you most in your youth?

My father had polio, so reading Alan Marshall’s I Can Jump Puddles was something of a revelation. No one much talked about polio back then; reading a book whose protaganist had polio was wonderful.

Name an early literary idol or influence whom you no longer admire – or vice versa.

I have been very disturbed to learn about what happened to Alice Munro’s daughter and find myself unable to reconcile the choices Alice made. I won’t be rereading any of her stories again.

Do you have a favourite podcast?

I confess I am not an avid podcast listener – apologies to the devotees!

What, if anything, impedes your writing?

Work! Last year, I received a grant from Creative Australia, which enabled me to leave my role as CEO of the Wheeler Centre for Books, Writing and Ideas and focus on finishing my first novel, Love Unedited. It was the greatest gift!

What qualities do you look for in critics?

Fierce intelligence and brutal honesty.

How do you find working with editors?

Editors are the magic makers. I often feel my editors should be acknowledged on the front cover with me. A good editor makes everything I write so much better – clearer, cleaner, more accurate.

What do you think of writers’ festivals?

As a former festival director, I’m an avid fan of well-curated and thoughtful programs that free writers to talk about their work. As a writer, I’m also a fan because a festival allows you to speak to and meet a lot of readers all in one place!

Are artists valued in our society?

No, not nearly enough. We often measure worth by monetary remuneration. Most writers in Australia earn less than $20,000 a year for their work, which speaks volumes about how much we value writers and their contribution.

What are you working on now?

I’ve just started toying with a seed of an idea about tyrants, but it’s no more than a sketch right now. Although I think I have a title: The Party.