- Margaret Drabble was born on June 5, 1939 in Sheffield, Yorkshire, England, UK. She is a writer, known for A Touch of Love (1969), Isadora (1968) and It's a Woman's World (1964). She has been married to Michael Holroyd since 1982. She was previously married to Clive Swift.
- SpousesMichael Holroyd(1982 - present)Clive Swift(1960 - 1975) (divorced, 3 children)
- Children
- RelativesA.S. Byatt(Sibling)
- Writer
- Mother of 3 children: Academic and social scientist Adam Swift; poet and writer Rebecca Swift; and journalist, TV presenter and garden designer Joe Swift.
- Biography/bibliography in: "Contemporary Authors". New Revision Series, Vol. 131, pages 123-131. Farmington Hills, MI: Thomson Gale, 2005.
- She was awarded the C.B.E. (Commander of the Order of the British Empire) before being awarded Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire in the 2008 Queen's Birthday Honors List for her services to literature.
- Ex-sister-in-law of David Swift and Paula Jacobs.
- I won't be able to stand there and say 'This is a wonderful book, my best ever'. I can't do that Jeffrey Archer stuff because at school we were taught not to advertise ourselves: only showing off on stage as someone else was allowed. But I can talk about how the short stories were written, why they got into print, and why I haven't written more short stories.
- [on the relationship with her sister and fellow writer A.S. Byatt] She may not have known what she had done until she had written it. Writers are like that. But it's a mean-spirited book about sibling rivalry and she sent it to me with a note signed 'With love,' saying 'I think I owe you an apology'." [Since then, the only book of Byatt's that she has read is Possession] a wonderful book; I think I sent her a postcard saying so. I think she wrote me a note about The Waterfall [in 1969]. It's irresoluble now. It's sad, but beyond repair, and I don't think about it much any more.
- [on her unfinished novel "Butterfly"] I had been struggling with the novel for some time before my daughter Rebecca fell ill, and as her illness progressed I knew I would not even want to try to finish it. When she died, on Easter Tuesday, April 2017, I knew my life as a novelist was over. I had ceased to be the person that I once was, and I had lost the source from which I used to write. Maybe it had dried up; maybe I had lost access to it. I don't know which.
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