Matt Haig interview: writing, masculinity and choosing to live

Matt Haig has offered a candid account of the choices and habits that shaped him — from a small‑town library and semi‑goth adolescence to a terrifying brush with panic and a late‑blooming love of running — as his next novel, The Midnight Train, nears publication. It’s a portrait of a writer who thinks hard about masculinity, the pull of social media, and why reading on paper still matters.

“The best decision I ever made was to live,” he told Esquire UK, recalling a panic disorder at 24 in Ibiza and the moment he turned back from the edge. That pivot kick‑started a determination to write, to try and risk failure rather than be haunted by what‑ifs.

What happened

Haig says a brand‑new public library in Newark‑on‑Trent anchored his after‑school hours as a latchkey kid, pulling him into popular fiction that wasn’t on any curriculum. He paints that building as a practical refuge as much as a cultural one, a place that nudged him toward stories when there wasn’t much else going on.

He calls himself a semi‑goth who found his tribe at a 1989 Cure gig, having grown up where slightly long hair on a boy could get you chased. Seeing a room full of alternatives to the sport‑or‑action‑movie template showed him there were other models for being a man. If you’re now growing yours, our guide to the best haircuts for your hair type makes the case for texture over length alone.

He’s frank about drink: being a “good drinker” turned into a problem over time. Alongside that admission sits a steadier note — he met Andrea on her 19th birthday, was 19 himself, and says staying together for over three decades has involved accepting that both people change rather than demanding sameness.

Work, at first, meant dead‑end roles. The low point, he says, was selling ad space to people who were selling ad space, which felt nihilistic enough that he walked out at lunch. The lesson he took wasn’t dramatic martyrdom but the value of listening to the nagging inner voice that tells you when a job is sapping your life.

Online, he’s blunt about a wasted era of arguing with strangers a decade ago. He admits to a social‑media habit but says he has narrowed his diet to mostly Instagram, with his X years firmly behind him. The subtext is familiar: less doom‑scrolling, more deliberate inputs.

Culturally, he frames books as a healthier space than the algorithmic scrum. He argues men are reading less fiction while listening to more podcasts, and worries we’ve swapped nuance for tribal binaries. It’s not a data lecture, just a writer’s view that slower mediums force better thinking.

On health, Haig credits his marathon‑running father with nudging him to run when he was ill with depression. He found the familiar sensations — racing heart, breathlessness — were recontextualised by exercise, interrupting panic spirals. He also likes bodyweight work, especially pull‑ups, as a reliable, kit‑free dose of structure.

Spiritually, he doesn’t buy a bearded man in the sky but says there are patterns and forces we don’t understand — the point being that certainty is overrated and humility is useful.

His tattoos were a phase he doesn’t regret, though he wouldn’t add to them now. He has six in total, with a favourite tiny script on his wrist that nods to a writing tic and the idea of continuing.

Creatively, he insists ideas tend to arrive when he steps away from the laptop to try something new. He tips his hat to John Steinbeck’s relevance in anxious, unequal times, admiring the way the American stuck with messy human nuance rather than moral point‑scoring.

And the work itself keeps coming: The Midnight Train is out on 21 May via Canongate, pitched as another stop on a long journey of thinking about how to live.

The background

Haig’s case for reading is simple: print is a slower, calmer technology than the feed. We rate that argument. It’s also echoed in the way some of modern culture’s biggest names have started talking openly about wobble and reflection — see our look at Harry Styles and Thom Yorke on self‑doubt.

Libraries matter here. For boys and young men who don’t immediately see themselves in school‑set texts, a welcoming public library packed with popular fiction is often the first nudge back into reading for pleasure. It’s a civic good and a quietly radical one.

That story about being chased for having long hair lands differently now. Hair is more fluid, subcultural borders are blurrier, and the question isn’t “allowed” but “what works for your texture and routine?” If you’re experimenting with looser length, a light spritz from the right sea salt spray adds grip without stiffness.

On the mental‑health front, the consensus is that regular, moderate exercise supports mood and helps many people manage anxiety cues. Running has the added benefit of zero faff: lace up, get out the door, keep it conversational, and bank 20 minutes. Consistency beats heroics.

He also mentions trimming his social feeds. That’s sound digital hygiene. Practical tweaks — muting keywords, unfollowing drama accounts, setting app time limits — make your phone less of a panic machine. It’s less asceticism, more curation.