But “gayness” is not what makes Hollinghurst’s novels interesting. Sometimes recognition of the depth of Hollinghurst’s talent has been unfairly overshadowed by the supposedly controversial nature of his subject matter (most headlines at the time of his Booker win were something along the lines of “Gay novel wins Booker”). While his depiction of Tory excess and the encroaching devastation of the Aids epidemic in 1980s London was haunting, the book’s frank portrayal of sexual relations between men offered me some kind of solace: it took me beyond the conservative confines of suburban Rondebosch (and an all boys’ school in which homosexuality remained very much taboo), into a world of possibility and openness – an assertion that somewhere there were others like me, able to live freely. As the first gay-themed book to win the prize, it was a sign of either the librarian’s naivety or liberality that it made it onto the shelves. I first encountered Hollinghurst’s writing in my high school library when the Englishman’s fourth novel, The Line of Beauty, won the Booker in 2004. The possibility that you’ll be disappointing (or that he will) is inescapable. There is the sense of inadequacy, of the “right” questions being elusive. Interviewing a favourite author poses a terror greater than when you don’t know enough about your subject. But it is not just the weather that concerns me. It is cloudy and the table is speckled slightly by rain.

I look up nervously from my spot on the terrace of the Mount Nelson Hotel. The Man-Booker author Alan Hollinghurst talks about Tennyson and taking ecstasy.

Book the line of beauty