Author Anne Tyler was not born in Baltimore, but over several decades hers has become one of the city’s signature voices. From the Pulitzer Prize-winning “Breathing Lessons” to “St. Maybe” to “The Accidental Tourist,” the inspiration for an Academy Award-winning 1989 film, she’s spun stories of people living ordinary lives navigating extraordinary moments, often in the Roland Park neighborhood.

These stories, though universal, are imbued with what she described to me in an email exchange as “Baltimore’s quirky sense of self.”

“One of my early conversations in Baltimore was with an elderly Roland Park woman who complimented my two small children when I was out walking with them,” Tyler wrote of her adopted neighborhood. “I told her that the baby was our only true Baltimorean because she was the only one who’d been born here, and the woman drew herself up and said, “Oh, my dear! That does not make her a Baltimorean.”

That’s a great story, and so is “Three Days In June,” Tyler’s most recent novel about a woman named Gail trying to get through her daughter’s wedding weekend amid the loss of her job and the unexpected presence of her ex-husband and a rescue cat. The book is the first entry in the new Baltimore Banner Book Club, a free program that starts July 23. In our email exchange, we talked about the draw of imperfect characters, the chaos of big events and the ability to handle change, even if you don’t want to.

“Three Days In June” is set around the rush of activities of a wedding. What is it about weddings that carries such emotional stakes?

I suppose it’s that weddings are almost unique in celebrating a single decision that (with luck) will remain in effect for the rest of our lives.

Weddings, or even funerals for that matter, don’t happen in a vacuum, but in the middle of life that’s already happening, like Gail losing her job the day of the rehearsal dinner. Why is that so relatable?

My own wedding, as I recall, was seriously complicated by the issue of how my cat would manage while I was away on my honeymoon. It’s just how life works, usually — never just one simple plot line at a time.

One of the things I love about Gail is that she is admittedly not a warm person, or a “people person,” as her boss said. Why did you write her this way? Are imperfect characters more fun?

To me they’re definitely more fun to write about, if not to live with in real life. They face complications and setbacks that a more sociable person hardly ever encounters, and more often than not, I’m in sympathy with them.

The book is about transitions, both welcome and otherwise: Gail is considering the loss of her job; Debbie is becoming a wife, making Gail and Max have to consider how their relationship to her and to each other might change. Why is it so hard, even in your 50s and 60s, to manage change?

I’ve always assumed that for some people, change is welcome, and perhaps even dangerously addictive. (But not for me, I have to admit.)

I was struck by the way that it takes most of the book for Gail to reveal the big mistake she made in her marriage and the role she played in its ending. In what ways do we not process the decisions we’ve made in the past and how they might affect other people?

For me, Gail’s story illustrates a truth that I’ve often noticed in real life: What matters most is not so much whom you love as who you are when you’re with whom you love. Gail was (in Max’s eyes) the woman who hung the moon, when he and she first met.

This is your 25th novel. What keeps you motivated to write?

The sheer fun of it, really. I love leading other people’s lives for a while. And besides, I have no hobbies.