This is a fantasy ego projection of an interview that might
take place in a possible future where I have actually finished this novel that
I have sitting around here half-done. “Forest Park” is the current working
title. Repeat, snark alert! This hasn't happened yet.
Q: Let’s start with
the obvious question: how is it that you
are publishing your first novel at the age of seventy?
A: Well, I could give
you any number or reasons, from flippant to profound, but let’s just say that I
finally got around to it.
Q: The writing or the
publishing?
A: The publishing, I
think. A half-done first draft of
“Forest Park” sat in a lap-top for years before I decided to finish it. Before now, for decades, I felt like I had
books in me, books that I wanted to write, but I had the powerful notion that
dealing with publishers, agents and marketers would damn near kill me.
Q: It that why you
decided to self-publish?
A: Who says I
decided? I’m not sure that I had any
alternative.
Q: Did you try to
find a publisher? Or an agent?
A: No. I have no facility for self-promotion and I
have a very low tolerance for rejection.
And I figured if John Toole couldn’t sell the business on “Confederacy
of Dunces,” what chance did I have?
C’mon, let’s move along, this is a dull subject.
Q: Okay . . . How
about writing? Had you written anything
before?
A: Yeah, a lot,
actually. Journals, letters, always. I hated school as a teenager, but I wrote
nice term papers, and I enjoyed writing them.
My overall grades were dismal in my teens, but my term papers scored
high. In my early fifties I wrote some
short stories, I think a few of them were okay.
I was a lawyer by then, and of course I wrote thousands of words a week
doing that, it seemed like thousands anyway.
After the Peace Corps, I wrote up about a hundred thousand words about
my experiences in Thailand based on journal entries. I think some of that was entertaining. I wrote hundreds of poems in my fifties. I've had a blog for ten years that I put a
lot of energy into.
Q: Did you try to get
any of the stories or poems published?
A: Not really. I mean, I sent some stuff out, but I got
discouraged almost immediately. I
thought that some of the poetry was good, but I’m famously easy to please. But it don’t mean nothing, as they used to
say. I read and write mostly because I
love to read and write. I’ve always been
a reader. I love to tell stories too,
for that matter. It all goes together.
Q: When did you
become interested in reading?
A: Very young, if you
count comic books! Kidding aside, we
always had a lot of books around the house, and we got two newspapers delivered
every day. We got the New York Daily
News every morning at about six o’clock, so I could look at it before
school. That was a great newspaper then,
this is the Fifties, I don’t know what it’s like now. It was tabloid sized, it had lots of
pictures, and it had great writers.
Everything was very punchy, intensely to-the-point. The sports writing was top notch. A perfect newspaper for a youngster.
We also got Life and Newsweek every week, and the National
Geographic. The Life and the NatGeo, I
went over them pretty good. The books at
home were my father’s, he had very eclectic tastes. Many were in German; many were about
engineering; there were math books and textbooks about foreign languages; the
fiction was mostly very serious. He went
to a lot of used book sales. I “looked
at” those books when I was too young to read them. I read them like you’d read magazines, you
know, just open them and read a little. I
did always love the library though. Plenty
of readable books there. The library in
my town was a good one, and for the youngster there was a nice children’s
library downstairs.
Q: How about
books? When did you start to read
books?
A: Age eleven, I’d
say, for long-form fiction and non-fiction, in seventh grade. Over the next couple of years I read books
from the library about pirates or World War II, exciting stuff, I read Edgar
Rice Burroughs, all of the Ace paperbacks came out at that time, Rider Haggard,
Edgar Poe, books about gangsters, Sherlock Holmes, Fu-Manchu. I read memoirs by World War II guys, like
“Stuka Pilot,” by Hans Rudel, and “Zero Fighter,” by Saburo Sakai. And more of the books at the house, I had
more patience for them than before. I
found a paperback called, “The Beats,” about all of the Beat writers, real
Top-of-the-Pops stuff, but I liked it. I
found that book amazing.
Q: The Beats? What did you find most interesting about
them?
A: Well, it seemed to
suggest that an individual could be himself and still become successful. That’s pretty exciting.
Q: What was the first
serious book that you read?
A: Nice dig,
youngblood! Maybe I should pad my
list.
Q: No . . . I mean .
. .
A: Forget it. I’m fucking with you. It was probably “Junky,” by William
Burroughs. I was thirteen, I think, a freshman
in high school, I hated high school with a passion. I’m sure that I shop-lifted the book, I had
mastered that behavior by then. I had
developed a voracious appetite for magazines and paperbacks and the money to
pay for them was just not there, so I improvised. I liked “Junky” a lot, I re-read it about a
year afterwards. I mean, it wasn’t a
bolt-from-the-blue moment or anything, but I liked it a lot. It was a lesson in the layers of the societal
onion, worlds within worlds. I had no
idea of that stuff, what half of it meant, but I learned that there was more
out there, those people on the bus had more on their minds. Of course I remembered Bill Burroughs from
the book about the Beats.
Q: How about school
assigned reading?
A: I never read what
was assigned by school. It was a matter
of principle with me. I got Cliff Notes
or I faked it. I only read what I wanted
to read. A novel a week, plus the
history stuff. I hated school, but I
loved reading. Oh, I did read
“Huckleberry Finn” as a freshman in college.
I liked that. I’d already read
some Mark Twain.
Q: Did it occur to
you that you might write someday yourself?
A: You know, I did
have a “Eureka!” moment at that time.
Thirteen, or maybe fourteen. It
was after school, I was in my room pretending to do homework. Really, I never did homework, I always copied
it from other kids the next morning.
Anyway, I’m in my room reading a pornographic novel. I had a couple of them around, the best part
of them was definitely the six or eight nude drawings by Frank Frazetta. Those’d be big E-Bay items now, I’ll
bet. The writing itself was
disappointing, even to my critical faculties, which were primitive. I remember thinking: I could do better than this. The exposition was minimal; the sex scenes
were shallow and not very entertaining; there was no coherent narrative, no
real story. I thought, somebody got paid
to write this shit? That was actually
very encouraging to me. I thought that
maybe it would be a job that I could do, someday, if I had to. I was always worried about the whole making a
living thing.
(Reminder, none of this interview has happened yet. I am just thrilled with the idea that
someday, who knows, it might happen, someone will want to interview me.)
Q: So now you’re
published, or self-published anyway. Are
you making a living at it?
A: Shit, no. This is a love thing. If a couple of hundred people read the book,
I’ll be totally delighted, it’ll all have been worth it. The interesting thing these days is that
self-publishing has become something of a misnomer. You’re not on your own anymore. Not only writers have been put out of
business by the new paradigm, lots of publishing professionals are out in the
street now too. Editors, the whole lot
of them. Many of them have hung out
shingles and are now in business for themselves, trying to make a living with
the talents that they developed over the decades in the old, pre-Internet
publishing business. So I have help, I’m
happy to pay for it, these guys are good.
So I can get an editor on as grand a scale as I think I need, I can get
someone to do the packaging, it looks a lot better than I could do, I can pay
for as much marketing as I can afford.
By now it looks like Forest Park will at least break even. That’s a blessing. But making a living? Please, don’t mock me.
Q: Sorry, I was just
curious. Back to reading, what have you
read more recently?
A: More recently than
high school? That’s quite a list. I’ve always been drawn to crap, but I’ve
always found quality books rewarding too, as long as they were not too hard to
read. So I’ve always read a mix of
“good” books and crap; fiction and non-fiction; newspapers and magazines. I’ve always been a dedicated library goer,
borrowing books and reading them. I’m
all over the place. I never totally gave
up comics, for that matter.
Q: What have been
some of your favorites?
A: Very early on,
Evelyn Waugh and Dash Hammett. Ambrose Bierce. “Clockwork Orange;” “Lord of the Flies.” I liked Evergreen Magazine in the Sixties, and I had a subscription. That led me to more Bill Burroughs, and some wilder stuff, like "491," Scandinavian stuff. Some of the Hard Boiled stuff, Mickey
Spillane early on, later George V. Higgins and Charles Williford. Nathanial West! And a lot of crap in all of these genres,
Science Fiction, crime, I rather liked some of the crap too. I recently discovered Edward St. Aubyn, I
find him very good. Over the years I read "Moby-Dick" three times, finally understanding it, more or less, at the age of sixty. Favorites? Of the modern guys I’d say Haruki Murakami
and Jonathan Franzen. I’m thunderstruck
by those two.
Q: How about a
favorite character?
A: Tom Ripley, hands
down. How could I leave Patricia
Highsmith off of the favorites list?
Those Ripley books, that’s five of my top ten right there. I only
read them in the last ten years or so.
Q: What do you feel
have been the biggest influences on your work?
A: “My work . . .”
That’s a little grand.
Q: How about, “. . .
on your writing so far?”
A: Probably
newspapers. Between journals, and
letters, and legal writing, maybe I tend to stick with the who, what, when,
where and how. Be direct, don’t hide the
ball. Tell the story. So newspapers. Maybe newspapers and movies. I’m pretty sure that I construct movie-like
narratives. I’ve seen a lot of
movies.
Q: Regarding style .
. .
A: Let me cut you off
right there, I’m not the one to be discussing the style of anything, or the
literary this and that. I leave the
close examination of language and literature to people with much better
educations that I have.
Q: Fair enough. What about “Forest Park?” What’s the book about?
A: It’s about the
first TV generation. It’s about the
effect of the Sixties on certain young people.
It’s about the Vietnam War. It’s
about temptation and the difficulty of redemption. It’s about the layers of culture, what you
can see, what you find if you dig, and what you find if you stay right there
and dig some more. It’s about young
people who walk in the world but chose not to engage with it. It’s about friends, parents and children,
it’s about right and wrong in shades of grey.
It’s about growing up, discovering things about yourself. It’s about, not my favorite word, but it’s
about alienation.
Q: You sound like you
had given that question some thought beforehand.
A: Yeah, my PR guy
helped me with that one.
Q: What are you
working on now?
A: Oh, just more
stories about tattooed fuck-ups from Queens.
I’m like Marc Chagall, I’m stuck in a frozen moment. He and I look at the whole world through the filter
of one moment in time. For Chagall, it
was the Stetl, for me it’s a little corner of Queens after midnight.
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