| Jennifer
Egan |
Interview
by Ron Hogan  |
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When
Jennifer Egan came up with the idea for Ordinary People, the online docutainment
series that plays a prominent role in her second novel, Look
at Me, it was 1995 and she was still two years away from logging on
to the Internet. She had intended for the website, which selects a group of
-- you guessed it -- ordinary people, and provides viewers with round-the-clock
access to their personal lives, to be appallingly ludicrous. However, pop culture
moved so fast, she ruminated over lunch in Brooklyn one early October afternoon,
"It doesn't seem funny and crazy anymore, it seems like social commentary."
But in the aftermath
of the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center, what will most
likely be remembered about the novel is the character of Z, an Islamic fundamentalist
who blends so well into American culture while preparing to attack that he ends
up going native, fleeing from his terrorist cell and recreating himself as a
schoolteacher in Rockford, Illinois. "The classic suicide terrorist profile
is a young man with nothing to lose," Egan says, explaining how she came to
create Z, "no family ties, no sophistication, little or no education. And that
didn't really work for me as a character, so I made my guy much more sophisticated.
I worried that once the dotcom company became less satirical and more realistic,
the terrorist character would seem too far out, too wacky, out of synch with
the rest of the book." Reading the book now, however, the idea of a well-educated
terrorist moving freely through American culture seems chillingly prescient.
Beatrice.com:
When you were writing, the concept of Islamic fundamentalist sleeper agents
would have been considered unusual, if not outlandish.
Jennifer
Egan: Especially a very capable one. One way in which I departed from my
research is that my impression was that these guys were mostly bumblers. If
you remember the bombing at the World Trade Center in 1993...seven people died,
of course, but it was still a very slipshod effort in a lot of ways. My impression
talking to counterterrorism experts, seconded by my close reading of the New
York Times over several years, was that these people weren't a huge threat.
We knew they were around, but there was a sense that they couldn't get it together
to do anything much, and I believed that, too.
Are you still
giddy with excitement about the National Book
Award nomination?
I'm having trouble
believing it still. I feel like I've gotten into a really good college by mistake,
like I don't deserve it. [Smiles] I'm very happy, but it seems incredible
to me that, with all those books [out there], I've been named as one of the
five fiction nominees.
I spent six years
giving the novel everything I had.... There've been moments in the last few
weeks where I wasn't sure what was going to happen to the book, where I was
wondering if the last six years were going to amount to nothing much. So I feel
like this is a second chance in a way; maybe more people will read it now.
One of the
common characterizations of Look at Me is that it's about "a model whose
face is destroyed in a car accident." Which is not only untrue -- Charlotte
suffers facial injuries, but not disfigurement -- it makes the book sound like
a potboiler.
That's
another reason I'm grateful for the nomination. The book has been described
in the media in a way that is unappealing to the readers that I need. Somebody
who wants to read about models is going to hate this book, and the kind of reader
that will like it may be driven away by the fact that it's about a model. Looking
back, I should have seen this confusion coming, but I don't really know much
about marketing books. I just try to write good ones. [Smiles]
I
think people have wanted the book to be about other things and got upset that
it wasn't. It's a very hard book to describe, because there are several plotlines,
and you do have to pick one. I guess you could say that's the central one. Charlotte
is sort of the backbone of the novel, but that characterization of her situation
grossly misrepresents the book. It makes me see how...well, if Don Delillo weren't
Don Delillo, how would you describe Underworld?
Not that I'm saying my book's as good as that, but they're similar in that they're
both complicated books with multiple plotlines.
So you reduce
it to a story about the baseball that Bobby Thomson hit to send the Giants to
the World Series.
And
some readers would love to read a book about that, but then be completely disappointed
in Underworld, and other people won't want to read about baseball.
I've learned how
useful it is to have a premise that you can just say quickly and have people
understand. Like Jonathan Franzen's The
Corrections: a family story with a postmodern flourish. Great! That
sounds interesting, it sounds appealing. But a disfigured model? It sounds almost
bathetic, like Autobiography
of a Face, only by somebody you could care less about.
The next
time I finish a book -- and since I take so long to write, this is a ways off
-- I'll have to think about whether there's a path of least resistance people
could take in trying to characterize the book that would misrepresent it. If
I think that's true, I'm going to work very hard to fend that off from the beginning.
What was the
first hook that drew you into this story?
I
don't really start with a plot. I start with an atmosphere more than anything.
The first thing that I had was that I wanted to write about the midwest. Rockford,
Illinois, where a lot of the book takes place, is my mom's hometown. I kept
having an urge to go back there, which is weird, because it really didn't have
much to offer apart from my family, and once my grandparents were dead.... But
when I went back, I didn't feel alienated and weird; I got this sense that I
was in the middle of someplace important. I got an almost electrical sense that
my next book was going to happen here.
Other little pieces
came to me. I knew that there'd be a mad historian, somebody who was really
obsessed, and a young girl who was an acolyte of his. I knew that there would
be a chameleon, somebody who shed his identities, but I didn't know from the
beginning that he'd turn out to be a terrorist.
I was driving
to Rockford on one of my visits, and I was in a thunderstorm that was so severe
we just had to pull over. The rain was just smashing against the windshield.
So the car's stopped between two cornfields, and I had the radio on, and I suddenly
had an idea about a woman going off the road in the middle of a storm. But,
again, I didn't know at first that she was a model.
Those were the
things I had to begin with, and I wasn't sure how they would fit together. But
piece by piece, the story began to illuminate itself. It took a long time to
get it right, though. I didn't want to just alternate chapters; I find that
very formulaic. So then I had to think about when we switch from one plotline
to another. And the stories are told so differently, Charlotte's in first person,
the others in third person. The issue of control, of connecting the two voices
so that they seemed to be united, was very difficult. It was beyond my range
technically when I started, so I had to expand my range, my skills, in order
to do it. That's always the fun stuff. If you just do what you know how to do,
you keep doing the same thing.
You were also
working as a journalist while writing this novel. Did you choose assignments
because they were helpful for the book, or take subjects you'd written about
for assignments and incorporate them into the fiction?
I'm usually
circling an array of ideas at any given time, and those ideas govern my fiction
and my nonfiction decisions, so it's no surprise that the two end up overlapping.
I accepted the modeling assignment for my research. I didn't know anything about
models in New York, and I'd already made a few fumbling attempts to get access
to models for research. You can imagine how excited they were to have an unknown
novelist hang around. I'd never really done journalism before, but I got asked
if I would be interested in doing this story. At first I was concerned about
having to spend so much time on the story, and especially about having to write
it, but it was almost like a gift for the novel. If it hadn't been for the novel,
I probably wouldn't have done the article, because I was so worried about failing
at it. It was always intended to be a cover story for the New York Times
Sunday magazine, and I thought, "How can I do this?" But I figured that at least
I'd have my research for the novel done, and I would get some money, even if
it was just the kill fee.
Some assignments
I accept just because I'm interested in the material, even if it's not in the
book I'm writing. Like cutting -- I took that assignment just because it interested
me, and it wasn't until after writing that article that I came up with the scene
in Look at Me where the photographer is cutting models' faces.
A bizarre
scene, but then, you originally conceived of Look at Me as a satire...
...and
wrote it as a satire, too! But the buying and selling of lives that I found
so outrageous when I dreamed it up.... It's not like everything I wrote about
it has come to pass, but when I started reading about the wave of reality programming
after "Survivor," I thought I was reading an April Fool's edition.
I thought it just couldn't be possible. What I wrote just doesn't read as satire
anymore, and that disappoints me for two reasons. One is that the novel just
doesn't read the way I always intended it, but beyond that, I'm so appalled
that what I imagined as a grotesque scenario is now reality.
So many things
started coming up after I'd written them, though, that I'm not as surprised
by what's happened now. When I started writing about Moose, the Unabomber hadn't
been caught yet. He was out there, but the manifesto hadn't been published,
we didn't know he was an academic. After I wrote about Charlotte being fascinated
by old ads painted on the sides of buildings, there was a newspaper article
about an exhibit of photographs of those types of signs at the New York Historical
Society. So I went to the exhibit, and some of the pictures they had were of
buildings I'd been looking at while I was thinking about those scenes...So I
had these kinds of experiences a lot.
Now the book looks
like it's on target, but I was really trying to be ahead of the curve. Maybe
the problem's just that I write too slowly. [Smiles] I think it still
reads as satirical, but not quite to the inventive degree I hoped.
Both of your
novels have narrative elements of the thriller, but you're clearly not writing
thrillers.
The
Invisible Circus is more overtly like a mystery. Somebody has died,
we're not sure why, and we try to find out. But if you tried to market it as
a mystery, it wouldn't have worked; there's other things going on mystery fans
wouldn't care for. Look at Me...I didn't think about that this time.
I was more concerned that with so many plotlines, it would be hard to tie it
together and keep the momentum going, to make it feel like one big story moving
forward.
I don't really
read thrillers now, though I loved mysteries as a kid, even the really debased
ones like Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey Twins and the Hardy Boys. To some degree
the excitement of reading and looking for an answer has stayed with me and influenced
my writing. Whenever I pick up a thriller, the problem for me is that the writing
is so bad. You can hear the plot machinery creaking, and nothing is compelling
to me if it's in lifeless prose. Some people can combine thriller stories and
good writing. Scott Turow's Presumed
Innocent is a very good book, which I loved. Donna Tartt's The
Secret History had a very lush prose to it as well.
What was the
experience of the film adaptation of The Invisible Circus like?
I
got a lot of money when I really needed it, so it's been a positive experience
for me. In a way, that's the beginning and the end of the discussion. Oh, and
my mom and I got to visit the set and meet Cameron Diaz.
I found it hard
to read the screenplay. Reading my book boiled down to something that could
be shot in 90 minutes, I found that it was missing a lot of the past, what film
people would call the "backstory," the things that explained the character's
present behavior. So I was worried about how understandable the character's
actions would be without that underpinning. I also realized how melodramatic
the story was. Somehow that had been lost on me as I was working on it, as the
literary elements cushioned all the tearful confrontations and revelations.
[Laughs]
I never got to
see the final version, because my baby had just been born, and I never had time
to arrange for a babysitter or anything so I could get out to the theatre before
the film left. But I think that it was done in good faith. Adam Brooks [the
film's writer and director] and I were interested in many of the same things,
and I think that it's a really honest project. I'm looking forward to renting
it now that it's on video.
What's going
on now?
Right
now, I'm writing an article for the New York Times about babies born
to women in prison. I'm not sure what my next fiction project is. I've had a
collection in mind for a while, called A Visit from the Goon Squad, and
I've already written some stories for that. But I can't just sit down and say,
"OK, I'm going to work on stories for 10 months." For me, stories are always
something I slip into between other things.
I'd love to get
deep into another novel, but it would have to be something simple, not a complicated
story like this one. For a while, I wanted to do a gothic story with a huge
plot twist, but I haven't been able to sustain a sense of possibility about
that idea, so I don't know where it's going to go anymore.
Look
at Me
Look
for Jennifer
Egan's books on BookSense.com
Jennifer Egan was
born in Chicago and raised in San Francisco. She attended the University of
Pennsylvania and St. John's College, Cambridge. She is the author of two novels,
The Invisible Circus and the National Book Award Finalist Look at
Me, and a short story collection, Emerald City. She has published
short fiction in The New Yorker, Harper's, Zoetrope, and Ploughshares,
among others, and her journalism appears frequently in the New York Times
Magazine. She is the recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship
and a Guggenheim Fellowship. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband and son.
Ron Hogan is the
editor and publisher of Beatrice.com, a collection of interviews with
authors of contemporary literary fiction and nonfiction.
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