Marco Vichi was born in Florence in 1957. The author of eleven novels and two collections of short stories, he has also edited crime anthologies, written screenplays, music lyrics and for radio, and collaborated on and directed various projects for humanitarian causes.

His novel Death in Florence won the Scerbanenco, Rieti and Camaiore prizes in Italy.

Marco Vichi lives in the Chianti region of Tuscany.

Are you a bookgeek?

I would say so. I couldn’t live without reading. Every book is a world to lose oneself in, and I feel that’s a necessity.

What’s the best piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given (and do you follow it)?

The best lessons on writing I have not received through words, verbally, but through reading. Following by example is always the best teacher. From the writers I’ve loved the most, I think I’ve learned above all what is not needed to tell a story.

Which authors do you find most inspiring as a writer?

There are lots, luckily. I’ll just list a few: Lermontov, Dostoevsky, Chekhov, John Fante, Bukowski, Primo Levi, Fenoglio, Malaparte, London . . . and I’d like to carry on.

Do you have an audience in mind when writing, or do you just write for yourself?

I couldn’t say that I have particular readers in mind, but I don’t just write for myself. As I hit the keys I feel that I’m telling a story for other people, and I want to do it well. When someone tells me that they liked one of my books, I am enormously pleased . . . Perhaps it’s just the childish desire to be accepted.

Where do you write, and why?

At the moment I write at my dining table . . . But I don’t know why.

Tell us the book you most wish you had written.

If we’re talking about my books, it’s always the one I’m writing at the time. If you mean other people’s books, I would say The Skin by Malaparte: I would love to have written it.

Sometimes Bordelli tells war stories with a certain fondness; is this the spirit in which they were first told to you?

That’s exactly it. When my father told us his war stories – always after supper, at the table – he would do it with great passion, and created an exciting atmosphere which enveloped the whole family. When I ran into Bordelli, I incorporated my father’s tales into his memories of the war. It was lovely to be able to ‘preserve’ those stories.

Why did you choose to begin the Bordelli series in the early sixties?

I don’t choose anything in the stories I tell. When I write I don’t have the feeling of ‘inventing’ something, but rather of unearthing an ancient artefact, buried for centuries. The desire for discovery is what urges me to write. With regards to Bordelli, I didn’t know anything about him. I started writing, and after a couple of pages I saw him get into a Volkswagen Beetle, and I understood that he had taken me to the Sixties.

Brunetti, Montalbano and Bordelli; all are lovers of fine food.  Why do you think food plays such a big part in Italian/Italy-based crime fiction?

This happens especially in noir fiction, where the stories are very much related to day to day life. And food occupies a very important place over the course of a day. But as for me, I make Bordelli eat the things I no longer can. Writing is also useful for this.

There sometimes seems to be a desire in mainland Europe to move away from the type of fiction produced by Agatha Christie, but the finale of Death in August has certain elements Christie would have approved of.  Is this a comparison you would welcome?

I don’t know Agatha Christie’s work well, apart from via the many films of her novels which I’ve watched with great pleasure. Even if I write detective novels, I don’t much like that genre of fiction and I don’t read a lot of it. But the comparison is a great honour.

Is Bordelli’s ideal woman a reality, or has he spent his life looking for a perfection that could never exist?

Bordelli is an eternal adolescent in love, he is able to fall in love in a second.

Additional questions by Mike Stafford

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