Looks like Annalemma Issue Seven: Endurance has been popping up around the internet. Lots of very attractive and intelligent people seem to be enjoying it, which is fantastic news.
Have you got your copy yet? Let’s see some pics!
Looks like Annalemma Issue Seven: Endurance has been popping up around the internet. Lots of very attractive and intelligent people seem to be enjoying it, which is fantastic news.
Have you got your copy yet? Let’s see some pics!
Patrick deWitt‘s debut novel, Ablutions (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009), spiraled readers into the whiskey soaked underbelly of Hollywood bars beyond any semblance of celebrity or glamor culture. His follow-up, The Sisters Brothers (Ecco, May 2011), takes place in Gold Rush era Oregon, following assassins Eli and Charlie Sisters, on their journey to California to dispatch an inventor. He also wrote the script for the upcoming teen dark comedy Terri, directed by Azazel Jacobs. DeWitt’s story appearing in Annalemma Issue Seven: Endurance, The Worst Thing My Father Did in His Life, concerns a man recounting a horrible act to his son over breakfast. This interview was conducted via email.
Annalemma: The father in this story engages in some pretty horrible behavior. A lot of your characters are prone to doing truly bad things. What’s interesting about people committing awful acts?
Patrick deWitt: I come from a long line of unabashed gossips, and addressing your question from that point of view, I can say that unpleasant behavior makes for a superior topic to pleasant behavior. I’ve been losing interest in wholly terrible people lately, actually, and have taken an interest in partially terrible people. They’re not as exciting, but easier to be around.
A: Saying something’s an awful act is a bit of a judgment call. What’s awful to one person is acceptable to another. It seems like the father and the son in this story are seeing it from both an angles. They laugh about these terrible things the father did, maybe out of some male bonding instinct, then they immediately feel remorse. What constitutes an awful act?
PD: I guess it could be defined as a hurtful happening that could have easily been avoided but wasn’t for reasons of laziness or selfishness. So yes, the act in the story absolutely qualifies as awful.
A: The awful act in question is perpetrated against a woman. What do you see this story saying, if anything, about the way men treat women in this country? In this generation?
PD: I wouldn’t intentionally address any ideological platform in my fiction for the same reason I wouldn’t put an ideological bumper sticker on my car — because it would fill me with a sense of futility. And it’s crucial that I feel just the opposite when writing. What happens in the story is despicable, but it’s not there to illuminate an opinion or take anyone to task. Commentary is someone else’s job.
A: Even though I knew from the beginning that that father was going to do something terrible, his bravado made him attractive, funny even. What is it about assholes that make people gravitate toward them?
PD: Assholes lead exciting lives! Their days are filled with wild feelings and insane miscommunications. Also, they’re typically solitary or independent, and human nature leads us to seek the favor of people who can take it or leave it.
A: Let’s talk about some stuff happening down the road. According to the IMDB page, Terri is in post production. Can you talk about that at all?
PD: Only to say that it was an honor to work with such a talented group of people, and that I’m proud to call Azazel Jacobs my friend.
A: The Sisters Brothers takes place in Gold Rush era Oregon. How much research was involved when you sat down to write historical fiction and how did the writing process differ form Ablutions?
PD: The research process was not what you would call rigorous. Basically, I read one Louis L’Amour novel (Heller With a Gun), and looked at the pictures in a Time-Life book called The Forty-Niners. There were times I needed specific information (How many hands tall is a tall horse? What are the habits of North American beavers?) and would poke around online or at the library for an hour, but this happened surprisingly rarely. I wound up making up a lot of stuff, actually — sayings, names of weapons, means of communication, towns. I never felt any obligation to keep to the facts, and when the facts upset the narrative, then the facts went out the window.
The process differed between books in that with Ablutions I was pulling from a concrete, real-world place I knew intimately, whereas with The Sisters Brothers I had to envision and imagine and empathize. I had to get to know the characters well enough that I would know what they might do in a given situation. Also, TSB is more story-driven, while Ablutions was more tone-driven or whatever — more a series of portraits rather than a series of interlinked, propulsive happenings.
A: Genre writing is like porn. Literary writers pretend like they’re above it, but they devour it in large quantities when they think no one’s looking. Where do you think this stigma against genre comes from?
PD: Maybe it seems like a crutch to have a fully realized setting as the starting point, but speaking personally, this book wasn’t any easier to tackle in spite of the backdrop. If there’s a problem with genre, it’s that the authors so rarely rise above the inherent conceits. But it’s not as though every work of literary fiction is hitting a home run, either, you know? Oftentimes I have a reaction when I read something that pushes or allegedly pushes boundaries: I wonder if the author could tell a straight story. I was wondering the same thing about myself, which is one of the reasons I wrote The Sisters Brothers, as a challenge, or test.
This sweet baby is shipping today to folks who pre-ordered and subscribers. Noteworthy features:
Joe Meno asks what your favorite war is.
Patrick deWitt presents an old man doing a terrible thing.
Matthew Simmons talks to God.
Zora Neale Hurston inspires you yet again.
A portion of the proceeds of this issue go directly to The Zora Neale Hurston National Museum of Fine Arts, an organization dedicated showcasing the work of artists of African descent.
Being a part of the best thing we’ve ever made is only a couple clicks away.
Roxane Gay’s writing deals with sex, love, death, and the powerful conflicts that arise from those concepts. She’s published in roughly a bazillion print and online journals and her first collection, Ayiti, is coming out next year. Nina Hartmann’s photography tells stories about young people living and loving within an inch of their lives. She is currently pursueing her BFA at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago where other photography students no doubt try to copy her style. Nina and Roxane’s forces were combined in Annalemma Issue Seven: Endurance. This interview was conducted via Gmail chat.
A: Everyone here?
Roxane Gay: Yes.
Nina Hartmann: Yup.
A: Roxane meet Nina. Nina, Roxane
RG: Hi, Nina.
NH: Hey.
A: Thanks to the both of you for taking time to do this. I’ll start off with a few questions and we’ll go from there, if you have to take off just say so.
RG: I’m in my office grading so the only way I will take off is if some freak of nature accident happens and the Hand of God reaches into my office and takes me away.
A: I really hope that doesn’t happen.
RG: Me too.
A: Or if it does at least someone is there to see it. I thought the two of you were a good fit because you have this element to your style that sort of lulls an audience in then blindsides them with a powerful or frightening image. Nina, what sort of images take your attention?
NH: I try to take pictures of things that are beautiful to me but still have something off or strange about them. Redefining what beauty has been thought of throughout art history is something I try to personally address. Capturing strangeness or a relatable feeling is my main inspiration, I guess.
A: That’s interesting, I think the same things about Roxane’s work, a strangeness to your situations, but an ultimately relatable feeling because the characters are very human. What sorts of things take your attention when you begin writing, Roxane?
RG: I love to work from emotion. I like to find a moment of joy or pain or sorry and amplify those moments through exposition by just telling and telling and telling a story until it feels so claustrophobic I can’t bear it.
A: Haha, is that when you know it’s good?
RG: Yes, when I start to think, this might be too much, that’s when I know I’ve just about got it right.
A: Nina, are there ever moments like that for you, where you know something may be a good opportunity for a photo but you’re scared or apprehensive?
NH: Yeah for sure, but being uncomfortable is fleeting and a good picture is something that will be there forever so I usually try to just go for it. Most of my photos are photographer-subject relationship based so the amount the subject lets me in is usually based on how close we are.
A: I can really tell that from the photos on your site, there’s these two that come to mind of two young women at a spring, I think those were the first two images of yours I ever saw at a photo show in Florida. Something about capturing people in nature seems to open up a natural state, can you talk about that a bit?
NH: I’m definitely inclined to take photos outdoors. There’s more information available photographically and it is always a perfect backdrop for the subject. Living in Chicago has been a challenge since I have to stay inside most of the time.
A: Roxane, it feels like this is a theme that runs in the stories of yours that we’ve published, the characters continually escaping to nature, or maybe just escaping.
RG: My characters are often escaping because they find themselves in impossible situations. I spent the past five years living in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula which is all about nature and my boyfriend is Mr. Nature while I am decidedly more interested in the pleasures of the indoors. A lot of my writing in the past couple years has been about learning about the solace nature can provide when you’re in mourning or in pain and you don’t want to feel boxed in by a room or the reminders that can be found in rooms.
A: That’s really cool. I just realized you’re both recent IL transplants.
RG: Oh? I moved here in July. It has been… interesting.
NH: Hahaha, yes interesting is a good word for it.
A: Nina, have you experienced a Midwestern winter yet?
NH: Yes, I’ve lived here for a year and a half almost now. It was rough, I really learned what depression was when i moved here, haha.
RG: It’s funny that people in IL think they have winters. The U.P. taught me about winter.
A: that is true, I could imagine U.P. winters are something along the lines of a metaphysical level of cold and isolation.
RG: The first two years made me question, ironically enough, the limits of my endurance.
A: Well, you made it, I think that speaks highly of your limits. How did you like the images we placed with your story, Roxane? I know it’s a bit different than what we’ve paired you with before.
RG: They are really interesting. I love how the colors feel muted and the images gave me the sense of, I’m not sure how to explain it, but I thought they were a really interesting complement to the story. It was like there was a distance there, but also an intimacy.
A: Yeah, I kind of felt the same way, they weirded me out on first glance but then made me feel good, like comforted almost. Nina, can you talk a little bit about how you came up for the idea and what the shooting process was like?
NH: I haven’t read the story in months, but I remember relating to parts of it in remembering feelings of dependency but the comfort that comes from it as well. Kind of wanted to create a “hand that feeds you” type situation. I shot it of my roommate and good friend, Sandra. I use her for a lot of photos, she lets me do whatever and is really interesting looking.
A: Her expression is so placid, but there’s this sort of vulnerability to her, I don’t know, to me the images say a lot about what it means to trust someone.
RG: I really like that vulnerability because I think the woman in my story is hard but not as hard as she thinks and she’s vulnerable in so many ways as the story unfolds.
A: Exactly, I’m always interested in people like that. The one’s who put up the hardest veneer are often the ones who are the softest inside.
RG: I love writing about women like that. I write the same story over and over and I’m so comfortable with that.
A: That’s a good place to be. A lot of artists are worried about repeating themselves. Do you ever worry about that sort of thing, Nina? Or maybe about worry that something may be interesting to you but not to others?
NH: I’ve always told myself sincerity is the only way to make art, so I try to take photos of what is important to me at the time and nothing else. If people like it, thats fine, but I ideally would like to secure myself in a place where I don’t have to depend on what people think of my photos to make a living so I can continue taking photos in the most honest way I can.
A: Yeah, that would be the ideal place to be, it’s very hard to get there though. Society doesn’t really value fine art photography like it should. I’ve noticed that in your photos that a lot of your subjects seem to be living on the outskirts of society, is this something that interests you or is this the default mode of someone pursuing creative work?
NH: I guess its just always been the type of person I’ve been drawn to. I don’t really know how it happened but I love photographing people who are true individuals and don’t buy into trends or scenes. I try not to get overly involved in the contemporary art world because it is more shallow then I could ever have imagined. It’s good to keep a distance and photograph your life uninfluenced by trying to make it in the art world.
A: I agree, that would make for a much more interesting arc of a life as well. Nina, did you go train hopping?
NH: Yeah, I did when I first graduated from high school when i was 18.
A: What was it like?
NH: It was a great time in my life, everything was easy and beautiful.
A: That sounds like a dream, like a lot of peoples lives at 18.
RG: I wouldn’t mind trying that
A: Go for it, Roxane. If there aren’t any more questions I think this is a good a place as any to wrap it up.
RG: Nina answered the question I would have asked!
NH: Haha.
A: All told then. Thanks again for taking part and I hope the both of you have a good evening.
NH: Night everyone!
RG: Thank you for having me, Chris!
A: Thanks Nina, I’ll be in touch.
RG: Or interviewing me, I reckon.
A: My pleasure, I’ll speak to you soon, I’m sure. Bye yall!
I know who you are. You are a person who lives in Central Florida and loves empanadas. You are a person who loves delicious wine. You are a person who loves to read. You have a deep and ferocious love for the small, yet potent, arts and culture scene in your town. Most of all, you like free things. Guess what, friend. We’re hooking you up.
We’re celebrating the release of Annalemma Issue Seven: Endurance next month in Eatonville. We will see you there.
Rule #32 of the internet: if there aren’t pics, it didn’t happen. These days, our actions aren’t validated without documentation. You can plan for a party all you want, but if you forget your camera, it may as well be happening in the Arctic Circle. Thankfully the long arm of Electric Literature can always be counted on to pick up the slack.
Personal Observations:
– When there’s Draper and Schwartzman to be watched on a Sunday night in a warm apartment, people will instead come in droves to a tiny bar in Brooklyn to watch poets read. This is a shocking.
– The crowd loves Sasha Fletcher. They respond to his calls. They do what he tells them to do.
– When Ben Mirov gives people a choice between Sadness and Confusion, people will choose Confusion.
– Melissa Broder is a delightful co-host.
– Lauren Ireland wears amazing tights.
– Krystal Languell would like to destroy Florida. This is upsetting.
– While the poets get sad and ruminative, Paul Kwiatkowski does drugs with an ex-con, ex-girlfriend.
– Despite their drummer falling asleep in the van, Adam Robinson‘s band, Sweatpants, is a cathartic exercise in garage rock.
– John Madera can play guitar and drums.
– Jesse Hlebo is much taller in person than in photos.
– David Peak is a tireless supporter of the scene.
– Dylan Suher takes his name being misspelled in print in stride.
– Rose Wind Jerome cheers on her friends even in the face of death.
– Greg Gerke and John Dermot Woods are going to get their asses handed to them this Friday at the Monkey Bicycle Reading.
– Friends who don’t normally come to readings should be thanked profusely. Thank you Anna, Emily, David, Cara, Brent, Sandra, Kristen and Margaret.
– A digital camera is usually hiding in a forgotten corner of a messenger bag. This will be revealed the day after the event requiring documentation.
There is a party this Sunday. The purpose is to celebrate beautiful words and images that have been made here. Many people are very excited about this. So much so that they have been designing posters of their very own. The count is up to three.
Melissa Broder‘s design:
And Adam Robinson‘s entry:
I am going to be there having a good time. If you would like to be there and have a good time as well, come join.
Congratulations to our nominees for Dzanc’s Best of the Web 2011 Anthology. We’ve published some damn good stories here on the site this year, but these are three that will leave a mark on you…
What She Had by Alice Benson
Sea Monster by Ben Loory
Sofianne by Nick Antosca
Thanks to Alice, Ben and Nick for trusting Annalemma with their work and thanks to Dzanc for devoting time and resources to online writing.
Technical problems be damned. We’re having a party in Billy-burg this weekend. If I don’t see you there I am coming to your apartment and I am going to stand in front of the TV until you put on some jeans and come hang out with us. If you are intimidated by this flyer, here is one that Melissa made that is much more pleasing to the girly eye:
So something mildly upsetting happened. After a routine hard drive format the subscribers list seems to be inaccessible. The problem is in the midst of being resolved but there’s a likely possibility that it won’t be by the time Issue Seven ships.
If you have subscribed in the past year and have received Issue Six only, please forward your physical mailing address here: chris [at] annalemma [dot] net.