Below please find another in the reoccurring series of short Q&A’s with authors. This time with Jim Krusoe. Krusoe is the author of five books of poetry, the short story collection Blood Lake, and the novels Iceland and Girl Factory. He is the recipient of fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Lila Wallace Reader’s Digest Fund. Jim Krusoe teaches creative writing at Antioch University and Santa Monica College.

For my review of his latest book Girl Factory see here. And here is a fascinating podcast interview by Michael Silverblatt.

On to the questions:

1) When people ask what you do for a living how do you answer? Teacher, poet, writer, novelist?

I generally say that I’m a writer who teaches writing. In many ways I don’t find the distinctions—fiction, poetry and the essay—inside the general activity of writing to be as important as the act itself. I’ve done all three, and for me they seem equally difficult.

2) Some have used the word Kafkaesque to describe your work. What is your reaction to that? How would you describe your writing style to a first time reader?

Kafka’s work and mine have in common a shared landscape of dream. That is: not naturalistic, of a limited point of view, and idiosyncratically obsessive. Where we overlap the most is not in the supremely self-contained dreams of The Castle and the later work, but more in Kafka’s unfinished novel, Amerika, where sections of the unruly real world keep poking through, like drunken strangers at a wake.

3) Does being a poet impact your fiction writing? If so how?

A reason I wrote poetry for twenty years before attempting fiction was that I didn’t feel certain enough of this world to be able to actually describe a real street, with real houses and real neighbors. I’m not sure I can do that in fiction even now. Fiction implies a world outside the writer; in poetry, the voice of the writer is always present, is always the lens. So my version of fiction has been a sort of compromise between the two worlds, there is a lot of attention to language and to the huge leaps I associate with poetry, mixed with a more-or-less linear narrative and a real, made-up city, St. Nils. I can’t imagine writing a story set in New York or Los Angeles, for example.

4) Is there any science behind yogurt as a life preserving fluid in Girl Factory? Is this the natural alternative to cryogenics?

One of the pleasures of writing this book was to discover how acidophilus can preserve life beyond all imagining, and then also having to invent a way to undo its effects. So if it is a science, I’d say it’s a very new branch.

5) Why are memory and perception such slippery things? Are we incapable of seeing reality or are we unwilling to face it?

Just the other day I read that the organisms most capable of seeing the universe as it is are probably certain one-celled animals. They have the fewest number of filters between what exists and what they perceive. And then for humans, our memories are even trickier because they’re so malleable. Given therefore that what we are seeing is most certainly not reality, and out of that (whatever that is) we may remember only a part, mixed in with a lot of wishful thinking, is it any wonder things in humanland are somewhat confused? That’s why I have a hard time with words like “truth” and “reality”. For me, deliberate lies, and deliberate falsifications of experience are more relevant, and lord knows there’s enough of those to go around. And as for everything else—it’s up for grabs.

6) Is there a fine line between being a hero and a fool? Jonathan wants to be a hero but his actions always lead to tragedy.

I suspect that the intentions of a fool and a hero are very similar. It’s the results that separate one from the other. I think about Oedipus, for example, who spent the first part of his life thinking he was a hero, and then had that taken from him by a mere shift of perspective. Does that seem so different from anyone else’s life?

7) If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is Jonathan insane? Or is he just a bumbling idiot?

And the rules for insanity are probably much the same as for heroism. There’s a great American capitalist tradition of starting business after business until you succeed, and the entrepreneurial fantasy world is littered with stories like this. What they tend to leave out are all those people who go broke a few times and then shoot themselves. Apropos of which, friend of mine observed that reading about Jonathan trying to bring those women back to life was very like her having watched me work on various versions of this novel, which, at the end, topped forty drafts and took seven or eight years. It’s not a work model that I especially recommend.

8) Girl Factory seems to leave a lot of questions for the reader to answer or that happen off page (Why the girls are in the vats, what happened to Spinner, what happened in Mexico, etc.). Do you know the answer to these questions or does each reader bring an equally valid answer?

Not to harp on it, but in dreams situations are usually a given. I don’t ever remember being in a dream where I tried to figure out how I’d got there; only that I had to deal with it. I left large parts of this book vague for that reason, and for two other reasons as well. First, if I had detailed the back-story, then I would have an obligation to deal with it, and that would change the novel’s concerns. Second, I rather like the uncertainty because it feels right. When I think about my own life—how it happened, how I got here, and what actually went on in a relationship—I find I can’t answer these questions with any degree of certainty.

And yes, in Girl Factory I did have my opinions about what happened behind the pages in some instances, but I would like to think a nosy reader’s theory is as welcome as mine.

9) Does the average person care about literature or books? Should they?

When a person says, “Let me tell you something that happened to me once . . .” I can feel every cell in my body relax and my defenses drop; I’m able to take in new information. Accordingly, stories (told through the medium of literature) contain varying amounts of information about what I need to know. I would hope that others as well wish to understand as much as possible about themselves and our world, and one of the best ways to engage this process is by reading. Admittedly, there are plenty of people who would rather not ask any questions at all, but would prefer to believe they have all the answers they need.

10) If you were given control of the local (meaning most prominent paper in your area) newspaper’s book coverage what are three things you would change or implement?

Ah yes, being a book review editor is one of the several thousand things I am completely unqualified for, and this being the case, here are my suggestions, any one of which—or all—might prove fatal to an actual paper:

1) Do more theme issues, with the book review using fiction, poetry, and non-fiction, to examine controversial topics and to discuss new concepts and theories.

2) Use more reviewers who are writers, rather than professional reviewers. Not that there’s anything wrong with professional reviewers, but it is taxing to do these reviews day after day and bring to them a sense of freshness and discovery. Given that there is already a large pool of largely unemployed writers, it shouldn’t be too hard to find new voices. Speaking for myself, I always learn a lot whenever I find myself doing a review even though personally I try to avoid them.

3) Be less reverent.

I am not really an “Ohio Lit Blogger” in that I report on the literary scene - such as it is - Columbus or Ohio generally. But I do try to make Ohio connections on occasion and take advantage of them when I can. So when I heard that Dinty W. Moore was going to do a reading at Ohio State I made sure to attend. It turned out to be an enjoyable evening with readings by Dinty and Joe Mackall (I hope to have more about this author soon).

And it further prompted my interest in his book Between Panic and Desire published by the fine folks at the University of Nebraska Press. Here is what Publishers Weekly had to say about the book:

In this unconventional, nonsequential, generational autobiography, AKA cultural memoir, Moore, a professor of English at Ohio University, describes growing up as a child of the 1950s. Panic characterized his youth, as he watched the symbols of safety and security on television—Leave It to Beaver, Father Knows Best—while his real world fell apart. His mother had left his often-inebriated father, but couldn’t handle raising the children herself. Paranoia was the theme of his teen years, as JFK and King were assassinated; the draft and the Vietnam War drove young men to extremes; and characters like Charlie Manson, Squeaky Fromme, Mark David Chapman and John Hinckley Jr. all took aim at public figures. Moore’s own paranoia was only heightened by using LSD and smoking dope while tooling around in his VW Beetle. Miraculously, desire began to overtake panic; he discovered a passion for writing, which has focused him ever since. Moore lays all this out in a series of free-form, almost playful essays; only there’s something serious here, too, as he realizes our history seems to repeat itself: the Patriot Act sounds like 1984 and Iraq feels like Vietnam all over again. In the end, Moore (The Accidental Buddhist) takes readers on a quirky, entertaining joyride.

After the reading I stopped to say hello and he graciously agreed to answer some questions. After some delay I finally managed to send him some and he quickly responded. I offer them below for your enjoyment. I hope to offer a review of Panic and Desire soon. In the meantime perhaps this will pique your interest.

1) When people at parties ask what you do for a living how do you answer?

It depends on the party, of course. I am a writer – I write books – I teach writing. The answer seems to shift. To be honest, I am proud to be the author of five books , but there is always that moment, when you tell a stranger at a party, or on a plane, “I write books,” where they ask the title of one of you books, and if it isn’t a Stephen King or John Grisham blockbuster, they look disappointed. Well, I don’t like that moment.

2) How would you define/describe “creative non-fiction”?

Essentially, creative nonfiction involves bringing the entire literary toolbox – scene, voice, metaphor, lyricism, attitude – to the writing of truth. The creativity comes in the presentation.

3) Are Panic and Desire real towns in PA? Was it really just chance that you found yourself physically in a place you had inhabited metaphorically for a long time?

Yes, they are real. I wouldn’t call it chance – I deliberately veered off the road one morning, out of curiosity, to see what these two towns – crossroads really – looked like. But if you are asking, “Did I know that I would write this book, or that I would land on this metaphor?” No, I didn’t know that at all, it came much later.

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Today I recorded a podcast for Redstate and thought I would share it with CM readers. My guests are Tara Ross and Joe Smith authors of Under God: George Washington and the Question of Church and State.

In our conversation we discuss George Washington’s unique perspective on questions of church and state; why his views have not been more widely discussed or understood; how one phrase from one letter from Thomas Jefferson came to dominate American views on the subject; and how we might go about changing this dominance.

For my inaugural Blog Talk Radio show I thought I would go to a frequent participant in past podcasts Brock Clarke (see here for a podcast and here for a email Q&A).

Today at 2:30 PM EST I will be talking with Brock about his latest novel, An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England, and about his career; the state of fiction, and whatever else strikes my fancy.

You can listen live below, or here.

Last year a number of my favorite authors had books published.  I had big plans for a round of reviews and interviews with all of them to kick off their respective book’s publication.  It didn’t happen. Life intervened and I wasn’t able to get things done.  I managed to review most of them at least.

Well, things have slowed down a little bit so I thought I would try to rectify this by catching up with some of these authors this year.  Some will be via email and some I hope to talk with on Blog Talk Radio.

Kevin Wignall kicks things off.  Besides having a great first name, Mr. Wignall is an author whose work I always find both entertaining and thought provoking.  His latest novel Who is Conrad Hirst? was published last November by Simon and Schuster.  For more on his work see my reviews of Among the Dead, For the Dogs, and People Die.

You can also catch Kevin blogging over at Contemporary Nomad.  My ten questions for Kevin are below.

1)  If you had to shelve your latest novel at the bookstore or library where would you put it?  Espionage thriller; mystery; literary, general fiction?

Can I say all of the above? I think most literary fiction is fraudulent so I’d rather go with general.

2)   I wrote that Conrad Hirst, as most of your books, was an exploration of identity, the nature of morality, and the dangers of self-deception.  Is that fair?  Accurate?

Yes to both. I’m interested in the fault lines between who we think we are and how others see us. And one of the inherent premises of all my work is that we live in a time of fluid morality, a time in which people are drawing their own boundaries, so I think it’s interesting to explore how people deal with that process, particularly people on the edges of society.

3)  There seems a moral ambiguity or vacuum involved in your work.  Is this philosophical, aesthetic, or both?

It’s certainly not aesthetic in intent, and I dislike the kind of fiction (in print or on screen) that is morally barren because it somehow seems cool or stylish.  Following on from my answer to the previous question, it’s a response to the moral ambiguity of the times we live in.  For most of the Western world (the USA being a partial exception) secularism has become so entrenched that the moral absolutes of Christianity merely form a backdrop to our moral processes.  At the same time, the authority of the state has been undermined in favour of individualism.  If you had asked people fifty years ago what they should do if they found a bag full of diamonds, most would have answered automatically that they’d have handed it in to the authorities.  For various reasons, I don’t think the response would be so unequivocal today, and at the very least, people would think long and hard before coming up with an answer.  It’s that sense of forming morality on the hoof that I find interesting.

4)   How would you describe your career or reputation to this point?  Has this book changed your trajectory?  What were your expectations pre-publication?

I would say that, despite some very nice notices and the attention of quite a few people in the film world, I was flying under the radar until January of this year. You always hope your new book will be the breakout novel but frankly, this wasn’t, to begin with. Then it got an Edgar nomination and a little blip appeared on people’s radar screens, and that’s been very gratifying.  Again, impossible to say how things will go from here on in but I’m quietly optimistic.

5)   Why are your books published here in the states but not where you actually live and write?

Two reasons. I was published in the UK to begin with but by the publishers’ own admission, they messed up on the campaign to sell and promote me and the sales figures that resulted still hang over me. Interestingly though, British publishers also seem to struggle with my books because they fall between two stools - too short and philosophical for their crime lists, too pacy and violent to fit in the “literary” lists. Fortunately, the American mystery publishing environment is a much broader church.

6)   You don’t seem to be one of the “a book a year” types.  Why?

I wish I knew. I’m sure my publisher wished I knew, too! I find it hard to write to order. I usually wait until I’m absolutely certain of a story, until it’s eating away at me, then I’ll write it. For example, I started thinking about a book at the end of last summer, made some notes, but wasn’t certain of it and put it to one side. I experimented with a few other plots before the first started creeping its way back into my mind, and I’m just starting work on it again.  If it goes well, I’ll write it in 2-3 months, but there’s no guarantee yet that it will be my next book.

7)  How involved are you in the publicity end of your work?  Do you find this aspect frustrating?  Do you think publishers do enough for non-bestselling type authors?

Not very, but that’s partly because I don’t live in the US. Honestly speaking, I accept that publishing is a business and they have their priorities. That also applies across the board. For example, people are quick to lambast newspapers for cutting review coverage, but if you ask the same people how they read those papers they’ll often tell you it’s online, for nothing - we’re all part of the current business environment, so it’s hard to complain about businesses doing what they need to do to succeed within it.

8)  You have been blogging for a while now, what do you find satisfying about it?  What frustrates you?  Is it good for your writing?

I owe all of that to Olen Steinhauer who set up Contemporary Nomad in the first place and asked me to be part of it. I like that it gives us an outlet to talk about whatever takes our fancy. People respond most readily to posts about writing, but the stats suggest our political or wider cultural posts are all widely read. If there’s a frustration, it’s in finding time to post as often as I’d like - doubly so for Olen at the moment because his wife’s just had their first baby.

9)  You have had your work optioned for film. What is that process like?  Do you think we will eventually see a film based on your work?

Glacial!  It can move really quickly sometimes, but the whole system seems geared to slow things down.  People I’ve come to know in the film industry have so much patience, it’s hard to believe. Having said all that, I think we could see movement on a couple of projects this year and I’m certain it’s a matter of “when” rather than “if” a film will appear.

10)  What is your next project?  When can we expect the next Wignall book?

Well, if it’s the book I mentioned above, it will be called “The People You Know”, it deals with a lot of the themes you’ve mentioned, doesn’t feature a hitman, and will deal in a tangential way with the 9/11 attacks.  I’m hoping it will be published next year, as long as I don’t encounter any roadblocks.

Interesting segment from Ed’s interview with Richard Russo:

Russo: You know, it’s funny. That particular metaphor of doors, of walking through doors closed behind you, and then having fewer doors to walk through and choose between, was the metaphor that I used to use when I was teaching to describe how plot worked.

Correspondent: Interesting.

Russo: When I was teaching my undergraduate and especially my graduate students. Plot is a very difficult — they say, how do you come up with a story? How do you know what happens first? What happens next? All of that. And I was trying to explain to them that the best stories, the best plots, are the ones that end up kind of paradoxically, you want to be surprised. But after the surprise, you want a sense of inevitability. Like that’s the only place the story could have gone. Those two things, that’s why a lot of books are disappointing. Because that’s a very hard effect to achieve. How can you surprise somebody even as, after they register the surprise, they say, “Oh, of course. This is the only way it can go. This is the only way it could have gone.” Those two things are antithetical. And yet the best books always have that. That coming together. So I was always looking for a metaphor to explain that to people. To my students. And I’d say, all right. Think of it this way. You’ve got a thousand doors. You choose one. You walk through it. Now you’ve got five hundred doors. You walk through that. You’ve got two hundred and fifty doors. Every time I started explaining that to students, that there were fewer and fewer doors, that was going to provide the inevitability. But there was still the surprise. You didn’t know. Every time a character makes a decision, it seems that there are so many other possibilities. So it’s a series of surprises that ends up with a sense of inevitability. But as I explained that to my students, and as I was writing this book, it occurred to me that’s also a description of life and destiny.

Let me just state up front that I am not the smoothest sound technician around.  The problem with trying to do these podcasts is that I haven’t done them with enough regularity to get the hang of it.  I had just about figured things out when I took half a year off before trying another.  End result = awkward learning curve and much consternation.

But put that aside for now.  As I state in the audio, I recorded an interview with Richard Lewis earlier this year but never posted it.  There were technical, personal, and substantive reasons for not posting it.  But I finally decided that it was a waste not to post it.  So again, apologies for the delay and I hope the content overcomes any technical issues.

Richard Lewis is an author of two young adult novels, The Flame Tree and The Killing Sea, both highly recommended.  The son of American missionaries he lives in Indonesia where he is a full time writer.  He blogs at Novelist in Paradise.  I hope you enjoy our conversation.  Click the icon below to listen.