Sarah Kanowski

It could be that had a circus come to Colm Tobin's little town in Ireland when he was growing up, he might have run away with them.

And perhaps I wouldn't be speaking with a world-renowned writer today, but a ringmaster or lion tamer.

Colm has always been open to where life might take him.

He's found excitement in that kind of freedom.

And from the sitting rooms of Enniscorthy to the pubs of Dublin, from the wild parties of post-Franco Barcelona to the suburban streets of LA, wherever Colm goes, he keeps a running list of tiny details.

Observations of seemingly mundane encounters, an offhand comment, or the cut of a lady's outfit on a train.

And these details sink down into his subconscious, waiting and ripening until one day they bubble up.

Colm sits down at his desk and another novel is born.

His most recent book is a sequel to the highly acclaimed and much-loved Brooklyn.

It's called Long Island.

Hi, Colm.

Did a circus ever come to Enniscorthy?

What were the big events on the calendar in your hometown?

Did you swim when you were there?

What were Irish boys' swimsuits like when you were a kid?

Your characters are always getting dressed on the beach into their togs.

It's a mark of sophistication if someone's learnt to put their togs on before leaving the house.

It's Irish yoga, I guess.

When you'd have those family summers by the sea, were you still going to mass every week?

Was faith and the traditions of faith a big part of your family?