Torch (Vintage Contemporaries)

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Most Anticipated: The Great Spring 2024 Preview

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April April 2 Women! In! Peril! by Jessie Ren Marshall [F] For starters, excellent title. This debut short story collection from playwright Marshall spans sex bots and space colonists, wives and divorcées, prodding at the many meanings of womanhood. Short story master Deesha Philyaw, also taken by the book's title, calls this one "incisive! Provocative! And utterly satisfying!" —Sophia M. Stewart The Audacity by Ryan Chapman [F] This sophomore effort, after the darkly sublime absurdity of Riots I have Known, trades in the prison industrial complex for the Silicon Valley scam. Chapman has a sharp eye and a sharper wit, and a book billed as a "bracing satire about the implosion of a Theranos-like company, a collapsing marriage, and a billionaires’ 'philanthropy summit'" promises some good, hard laughs—however bitter they may be—at the expense of the über-rich. —John H. Maher The Obscene Bird of Night by José Donoso, tr. Leonard Mades [F] I first learned about this book from an essay in this publication by Zachary Issenberg, who alternatively calls it Donoso's "masterpiece," "a perfect novel," and "the crowning achievement of the gothic horror genre." He recommends going into the book without knowing too much, but describes it as "a story assembled from the gossip of society’s highs and lows, which revolves and blurs into a series of interlinked nightmares in which people lose their memory, their sex, or even their literal organs." —SMS Globetrotting ed. Duncan Minshull [NF] I'm a big walker, so I won't be able to resist this assemblage of 50 writers—including Edith Wharton, Katharine Mansfield, Helen Garner, and D.H. Lawrence—recounting their various journeys by foot, edited by Minshull, the noted walker-writer-anthologist behind The Vintage Book of Walking (2000) and Where My Feet Fall (2022). —SMS All Things Are Too Small by Becca Rothfeld [NF] Hieronymus Bosch, eat your heart out! The debut book from Rothfeld, nonfiction book critic at the Washington Post, celebrates our appetite for excess in all its material, erotic, and gluttonous glory. Covering such disparate subjects from decluttering to David Cronenberg, Rothfeld looks at the dire cultural—and personal—consequences that come with adopting a minimalist sensibility and denying ourselves pleasure. —Daniella Fishman A Good Happy Girl by Marissa Higgins [F] Higgins, a regular contributor here at The Millions, debuts with a novel of a young woman who is drawn into an intense and all-consuming emotional and sexual relationship with a married lesbian couple. Halle Butler heaps on the praise for this one: “Sometimes I could not believe how easily this book moved from gross-out sadism into genuine sympathy. Totally surprising, totally compelling. I loved it.” —SMS City Limits by Megan Kimble [NF] As a Los Angeleno who is steadily working my way through The Power Broker, this in-depth investigation into the nation's freeways really calls to me. (Did you know Robert Moses couldn't drive?) Kimble channels Caro by locating the human drama behind freeways and failures of urban planning. —SMS We Loved It All by Lydia Millet [NF] Planet Earth is a pretty awesome place to be a human, with its beaches and mountains, sunsets and birdsong, creatures great and small. Millet, a creative director at the Center for Biological Diversity in Tucson, infuses her novels with climate grief and cautions against extinction, and in this nonfiction meditation, she makes a case for a more harmonious coexistence between our species and everybody else in the natural world. If a nostalgic note of “Auld Lang Syne” trembles in Millet’s title, her personal anecdotes and public examples call for meaningful environmental action from local to global levels. —Nathalie op de Beeck Like Love by Maggie Nelson [NF] The new book from Nelson, one of the most towering public intellectuals alive today, collects 20 years of her work—including essays, profiles, and reviews—that cover disparate subjects, from Prince and Kara Walker to motherhood and queerness. For my fellow Bluets heads, this will be essential reading. —SMS Traces of Enayat by Iman Mersal, tr. Robin Moger [NF] Mersal, one of the preeminent poets of the Arabic-speaking world, recovers the life, work, and legacy of the late Egyptian writer Enayat al-Zayyat in this biographical detective story. Mapping the psyche of al-Zayyat, who died by suicide in 1963, alongside her own, Mersal blends literary mystery and memoir to produce a wholly original portrait of two women writers. —SMS The Letters of Emily Dickinson ed. Cristanne Miller and Domhnall Mitchell [NF] The letters of Emily Dickinson, one of the greatest and most beguiling of American poets, are collected here for the first time in nearly 60 years. Her correspondence not only gives access to her inner life and social world, but reveal her to be quite the prose stylist. "In these letters," says Jericho Brown, "we see the life of a genius unfold." Essential reading for any Dickinson fan. —SMS April 9 Short War by Lily Meyer [F] The debut novel from Meyer, a critic and translator, reckons with the United States' political intervention in South America through the stories of two generations: a young couple who meet in 1970s Santiago, and their American-born child spending a semester Buenos Aires. Meyer is a sharp writer and thinker, and a great translator from the Spanish; I'm looking forward to her fiction debut. —SMS There's Going to Be Trouble by Jen Silverman [F] Silverman's third novel spins a tale of an American woman named Minnow who is drawn into a love affair with a radical French activist—a romance that, unbeknown to her, mirrors a relationship her own draft-dodging father had against the backdrop of the student movements of the 1960s. Teasing out the intersections of passion and politics, There's Going to Be Trouble is "juicy and spirited" and "crackling with excitement," per Jami Attenberg. —SMS Table for One by Yun Ko-eun, tr. Lizzie Buehler [F] I thoroughly enjoyed Yun Ko-eun's 2020 eco-thriller The Disaster Tourist, also translated by Buehler, so I'm excited for her new story collection, which promises her characteristic blend of mundanity and surrealism, all in the name of probing—and poking fun—at the isolation and inanity of modern urban life. —SMS Playboy by Constance Debré, tr. Holly James [NF] The prequel to the much-lauded Love Me Tender, and the first volume in Debré's autobiographical trilogy, Playboy's incisive vignettes explore the author's decision to abandon her marriage and career and pursue the precarious life of a writer, which she once told Chris Kraus was "a bit like Saint Augustine and his conversion." Virginie Despentes is a fan, so I'll be checking this out. —SMS Native Nations by Kathleen DuVal [NF] DuVal's sweeping history of Indigenous North America spans a millennium, beginning with the ancient cities that once covered the continent and ending with Native Americans' continued fight for sovereignty. A study of power, violence, and self-governance, Native Nations is an exciting contribution to a new canon of North American history from an Indigenous perspective, perfect for fans of Ned Blackhawk's The Rediscovery of America. —SMS Personal Score by Ellen van Neerven [NF] I’ve always been interested in books that drill down on a specific topic in such a way that we also learn something unexpected about the world around us. Australian writer Van Neerven's sports memoir is so much more than that, as they explore the relationship between sports and race, gender, and sexuality—as well as the paradox of playing a colonialist sport on Indigenous lands. Two Dollar Radio, which is renowned for its edgy list, is publishing this book, so I know it’s going to blow my mind. —Claire Kirch April 16 The Notebooks of Sonny Rollins by Sonny Rollins [NF] The musings, recollections, and drawings of jazz legend Sonny Rollins are collected in this compilation of his precious notebooks, which he began keeping in 1959, the start of what would become known as his “Bridge Years,” during which he would practice at all hours on the Williamsburg Bridge. Rollins chronicles everything from his daily routine to reflections on music theory and the philosophical underpinnings of his artistry. An indispensable look into the mind and interior life of one of the most celebrated jazz musicians of all time. —DF Henry Henry by Allen Bratton [F] Bratton’s ambitious debut reboots Shakespeare’s Henriad, landing Hal Lancaster, who’s in line to be the 17th Duke of Lancaster, in the alcohol-fueled queer party scene of 2014 London. Hal’s identity as a gay man complicates his aristocratic lineage, and his dalliances with over-the-hill actor Jack Falstaff and promising romance with one Harry Percy, who shares a name with history’s Hotspur, will have English majors keeping score. Don’t expect a rom-com, though. Hal’s fraught relationship with his sexually abusive father, and the fates of two previous gay men from the House of Lancaster, lend gravity to this Bard-inspired take. —NodB Bitter Water Opera by Nicolette Polek [F] Graywolf always publishes books that make me gasp in awe and this debut novel, by the author of the entrancing 2020 story collection Imaginary Museums, sounds like it’s going to keep me awake at night as well. It’s a tale about a young woman who’s lost her way and writes a letter to a long-dead ballet dancer—who then visits her, and sets off a string of strange occurrences. —CK Norma by Sarah Mintz [F] Mintz's debut novel follows the titular widow as she enjoys her newfound freedom by diving headfirst into her surrounds, both IRL and online. Justin Taylor says, "Three days ago I didn’t know Sarah Mintz existed; now I want to know where the hell she’s been all my reading life. (Canada, apparently.)" —SMS What Kingdom by Fine Gråbøl, tr. Martin Aitken [F] A woman in a psychiatric ward dreams of "furniture flickering to life," a "chair that greets you," a "bookshelf that can be thrown on like an apron." This sounds like the moving answer to the otherwise puzzling question, "What if the Kantian concept of ding an sich were a novel?" —JHM Weird Black Girls by Elwin Cotman [F] Cotman, the author of three prior collections of speculative short stories, mines the anxieties of Black life across these seven tales, each of them packed with pop culture references and supernatural conceits. Kelly Link calls Cotman's writing "a tonic to ward off drabness and despair." —SMS Presence by Tracy Cochran [NF] Last year marked my first earnest attempt at learning to live more mindfully in my day-to-day, so I was thrilled when this book serendipitously found its way into my hands. Cochran, a New York-based meditation teacher and Tibetan Buddhist practitioner of 50 years, delivers 20 psycho-biographical chapters on recognizing the importance of the present, no matter how mundane, frustrating, or fortuitous—because ultimately, she says, the present is all we have. —DF Committed by Suzanne Scanlon [NF] Scanlon's memoir uses her own experience of mental illness to explore the enduring trope of the "madwoman," mining the work of Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Audre Lorde, and others for insights into the long literary tradition of women in psychological distress. The blurbers for this one immediately caught my eye, among them Natasha Trethewey, Amina Cain, and Clancy Martin, who compares Scanlon's work here to that of Marguerite Duras. —SMS Unrooted by Erin Zimmerman [NF] This science memoir explores Zimmerman's journey to botany, a now endangered field. Interwoven with Zimmerman's experiences as a student and a mother is an impassioned argument for botany's continued relevance and importance against the backdrop of climate change—a perfect read for gardeners, plant lovers, or anyone with an affinity for the natural world. —SMS April 23 Reboot by Justin Taylor [F] Extremely online novels, as a rule, have become tiresome. But Taylor has long had a keen eye for subcultural quirks, so it's no surprise that PW's Alan Scherstuhl says that "reading it actually feels like tapping into the internet’s best celeb gossip, fiercest fandom outrages, and wildest conspiratorial rabbit holes." If that's not a recommendation for the Book Twitter–brained reader in you, what is? —JHM Divided Island by Daniela Tarazona, tr. Lizzie Davis and Kevin Gerry Dunn [F] A story of multiple personalities and grief in fragments would be an easy sell even without this nod from Álvaro Enrigue: "I don't think that there is now, in Mexico, a literary mind more original than Daniela Tarazona's." More original than Mario Bellatin, or Cristina Rivera Garza? This we've gotta see. —JHM Prairie, Dresses, Art, Other by Danielle Dutton [NF] Coffee House Press has for years relished its reputation for publishing “experimental” literature, and this collection of short stories and essays about literature and art and the strangeness of our world is right up there with the rest of Coffee House’s edgiest releases. Don’t be fooled by the simple cover art—Dutton’s work is always formally inventive, refreshingly ambitious, and totally brilliant. —CK I Just Keep Talking by Nell Irvin Painter [NF] I first encountered Nell Irvin Painter in graduate school, as I hung out with some Americanists who were her students. Painter was always a dazzling, larger-than-life figure, who just exuded power and brilliance. I am so excited to read this collection of her essays on history, literature, and politics, and how they all intersect. The fact that this collection contains Painter’s artwork is a big bonus. —CK April 30 Real Americans by Rachel Khong [F] The latest novel from Khong, the author of Goodbye, Vitamin, explores class dynamics and the illusory American Dream across generations. It starts out with a love affair between an impoverished Chinese American woman from an immigrant family and an East Coast elite from a wealthy family, before moving us along 21 years: 15-year-old Nick knows that his single mother is hiding something that has to do with his biological father and thus, his identity. C Pam Zhang deems this "a book of rare charm," and Andrew Sean Greer calls it "gorgeous, heartfelt, soaring, philosophical and deft." —CK The Swans of Harlem by Karen Valby [NF] Huge thanks to Bebe Neuwirth for putting this book on my radar (she calls it "fantastic") with additional gratitude to Margo Jefferson for sealing the deal (she calls it "riveting"). Valby's group biography of five Black ballerinas who forever transformed the art form at the height of the Civil Rights movement uncovers the rich and hidden history of Black ballet, spotlighting the trailblazers who paved the way for the Misty Copelands of the world. —SMS Appreciation Post by Tara Ward [NF] Art historian Ward writes toward an art history of Instagram in Appreciation Post, which posits that the app has profoundly shifted our long-established ways of interacting with images. Packed with cultural critique and close reading, the book synthesizes art history, gender studies, and media studies to illuminate the outsize role that images play in all of our lives. —SMS May May 7 Bad Seed by Gabriel Carle, tr. Heather Houde [F] Carle’s English-language debut contains echoes of Denis Johnson’s Jesus’s Son and Mariana Enriquez’s gritty short fiction. This story collection haunting but cheeky, grim but hopeful: a student with HIV tries to avoid temptation while working at a bathhouse; an inebriated friend group witnesses San Juan go up in literal flames; a sexually unfulfilled teen drowns out their impulses by binging TV shows. Puerto Rican writer Luis Negrón calls this “an extraordinary literary debut.” —Liv Albright The Lady Waiting by Magdalena Zyzak [F] Zyzak’s sophomore novel is a nail-biting delight. When Viva, a young Polish émigré, has a chance encounter with an enigmatic gallerist named Bobby, Viva’s life takes a cinematic turn. Turns out, Bobby and her husband have a hidden agenda—they plan to steal a Vermeer, with Viva as their accomplice. Further complicating things is the inevitable love triangle that develops among them. Victor LaValle calls this “a superb accomplishment," and Percival Everett says, "This novel pops—cosmopolitan, sexy, and funny." —LA América del Norte by Nicolás Medina Mora [F] Pitched as a novel that "blends the Latin American traditions of Roberto Bolaño and Fernanda Melchor with the autofiction of U.S. writers like Ben Lerner and Teju Cole," Mora's debut follows a young member of the Mexican elite as he wrestles with questions of race, politics, geography, and immigration. n+1 co-editor Marco Roth calls Mora "the voice of the NAFTA generation, and much more." —SMS How It Works Out by Myriam Lacroix [F] LaCroix's debut novel is the latest in a strong early slate of novels for the Overlook Press in 2024, and follows a lesbian couple as their relationship falls to pieces across a number of possible realities. The increasingly fascinating and troubling potentialities—B-list feminist celebrity, toxic employer-employee tryst, adopting a street urchin, cannibalism as relationship cure—form a compelling image of a complex relationship in multiversal hypotheticals. —JHM Cinema Love by Jiaming Tang [F] Ting's debut novel, which spans two continents and three timelines, follows two gay men in rural China—and, later, New York City's Chinatown—who frequent the Workers' Cinema, a movie theater where queer men cruise for love. Robert Jones, Jr. praises this one as "the unforgettable work of a patient master," and Jessamine Chan calls it "not just an extraordinary debut, but a future classic." —SMS First Love by Lilly Dancyger [NF] Dancyger's essay collection explores the platonic romances that bloom between female friends, giving those bonds the love-story treatment they deserve. Centering each essay around a formative female friendship, and drawing on everything from Anaïs Nin and Sylvia Plath to the "sad girls" of Tumblr, Dancyger probes the myriad meanings and iterations of friendship, love, and womanhood. —SMS See Loss See Also Love by Yukiko Tominaga [F] In this impassioned debut, we follow Kyoko, freshly widowed and left to raise her son alone. Through four vignettes, Kyoko must decide how to raise her multiracial son, whether to remarry or stay husbandless, and how to deal with life in the face of loss. Weike Wang describes this one as “imbued with a wealth of wisdom, exploring the languages of love and family.” —DF The Novices of Lerna by Ángel Bonomini, tr. Jordan Landsman [F] The Novices of Lerna is Landsman's translation debut, and what a way to start out: with a work by an Argentine writer in the tradition of Jorge Luis Borges and Adolfo Bioy Casares whose work has never been translated into English. Judging by the opening of this short story, also translated by Landsman, Bonomini's novel of a mysterious fellowship at a Swiss university populated by doppelgängers of the protagonist is unlikely to disappoint. —JHM Black Meme by Legacy Russell [NF] Russell, best known for her hit manifesto Glitch Feminism, maps Black visual culture in her latest. Black Meme traces the history of Black imagery from 1900 to the present, from the photograph of Emmett Till published in JET magazine to the footage of Rodney King's beating at the hands of the LAPD, which Russell calls the first viral video. Per Margo Jefferson, "You will be galvanized by Legacy Russell’s analytic brilliance and visceral eloquence." —SMS The Eighth Moon by Jennifer Kabat [NF] Kabat's debut memoir unearths the history of the small Catskills town to which she relocated in 2005. The site of a 19th-century rural populist uprising, and now home to a colorful cast of characters, the Appalachian community becomes a lens through which Kabat explores political, economic, and ecological issues, mining the archives and the work of such writers as Adrienne Rich and Elizabeth Hardwick along the way. —SMS Stories from the Center of the World ed. Jordan Elgrably [F] Many in America hold onto broad, centuries-old misunderstandings of Arab and Muslim life and politics that continue to harm, through both policy and rhetoric, a perpetually embattled and endangered region. With luck, these 25 tales by writers of Middle Eastern and North African origin might open hearts and minds alike. —JHM An Encyclopedia of Gardening for Colored Children by Jamaica Kincaid and Kara Walker [NF] Two of the most brilliant minds on the planet—writer Jamaica Kincaid and visual artist Kara Walker—have teamed up! On a book! About plants! A dream come true. Details on this slim volume are scant—see for yourself—but I'm counting down the minutes till I can read it all the same. —SMS Physics of Sorrow by Georgi Gospodinov, tr. Angela Rodel [F] I'll be honest: I would pick up this book—by the International Booker Prize–winning author of Time Shelter—for the title alone. But also, the book is billed as a deeply personal meditation on both Communist Bulgaria and Greek myth, so—yep, still picking this one up. —JHM May 14 This Strange Eventful History by Claire Messud [F] I read an ARC of this enthralling fictionalization of Messud’s family history—people wandering the world during much of the 20th century, moving from Algeria to France to North America— and it is quite the story, with a postscript that will smack you on the side of the head and make you re-think everything you just read. I can't recommend this enough. —CK Woodworm by Layla Martinez, tr. Sophie Hughes and Annie McDermott [F] Martinez’s debut novel takes cabin fever to the max in this story of a grandmother,  granddaughter, and their haunted house, set against the backdrop of the Spanish Civil War. As the story unfolds, so do the house’s secrets, the two women must learn to collaborate with the malevolent spirits living among them. Mariana Enriquez says that this "tense, chilling novel tells a story of specters, class war, violence, and loneliness, as naturally as if the witches had dictated this lucid, terrible nightmare to Martínez themselves.” —LA Self Esteem and the End of the World by Luke Healy [NF] Ah, writers writing about writing. A tale as old as time, and often timeworn to boot. But graphic novelists graphically noveling about graphic novels? (Verbing weirds language.) It still feels fresh to me! Enter Healy's tale of "two decades of tragicomic self-discovery" following a protagonist "two years post publication of his latest book" and "grappling with his identity as the world crumbles." —JHM All Fours by Miranda July [F] In excruciating, hilarious detail, All Fours voices the ethically dubious thoughts and deeds of an unnamed 45-year-old artist who’s worried about aging and her capacity for desire. After setting off on a two-week round-trip drive from Los Angeles to New York City, the narrator impulsively checks into a motel 30 miles from her home and only pretends to be traveling. Her flagrant lies, unapologetic indolence, and semi-consummated seduction of a rent-a-car employee set the stage for a liberatory inquisition of heteronorms and queerness. July taps into the perimenopause zeitgeist that animates Jen Beagin’s Big Swiss and Melissa Broder’s Death Valley. —NodB Love Junkie by Robert Plunket [F] When a picture-perfect suburban housewife's life is turned upside down, a chance brush with New York City's gay scene launches her into gainful, albeit unconventional, employment. Set at the dawn of the AIDs epidemic, Mimi Smithers, described as a "modern-day Madame Bovary," goes from planning parties in Westchester to selling used underwear with a Manhattan porn star. As beloved as it is controversial, Plunket's 1992 cult novel will get a much-deserved second life thanks to this reissue by New Directions. (Maybe this will finally galvanize Madonna, who once optioned the film rights, to finally make that movie.) —DF Tomorrowing by Terry Bisson [F] The newest volume in Duke University’s Practices series collects for the first time the late Terry Bisson’s Locus column "This Month in History," which ran for two decades. In it, the iconic "They’re Made Out of Meat" author weaves an alt-history of a world almost parallel to ours, featuring AI presidents, moon mountain hikes, a 196-year-old Walt Disney’s resurrection, and a space pooch on Mars. This one promises to be a pure spectacle of speculative fiction. —DF Chop Fry Watch Learn by Michelle T. King [NF] A large portion of the American populace still confuses Chinese American food with Chinese food. What a delight, then, to discover this culinary history of the worldwide dissemination of that great cuisine—which moonlights as a biography of Chinese cookbook and TV cooking program pioneer Fu Pei-mei. —JHM On the Couch ed. Andrew Blauner [NF] André Aciman, Susie Boyt, Siri Hustvedt, Rivka Galchen, and Colm Tóibín are among the 25 literary luminaries to contribute essays on Freud and his complicated legacy to this lively volume, edited by writer, editor, and literary agent Blauner. Taking tacts both personal and psychoanalytical, these essays paint a fresh, full picture of Freud's life, work, and indelible cultural impact. —SMS Another Word for Love by Carvell Wallace [NF] Wallace is one of the best journalists (and tweeters) working today, so I'm really looking forward to his debut memoir, which chronicles growing up Black and queer in America, and navigating the world through adulthood. One of the best writers working today, Kiese Laymon, calls Another Word for Love as “One of the most soulfully crafted memoirs I’ve ever read. I couldn’t figure out how Carvell Wallace blurred time, region, care, and sexuality into something so different from anything I’ve read before." —SMS The Devil's Best Trick by Randall Sullivan [NF] A cultural history interspersed with memoir and reportage, Sullivan's latest explores our ever-changing understandings of evil and the devil, from Egyptian gods and the Book of Job to the Salem witch trials and Black Mass ceremonies. Mining the work of everyone from Zoraster, Plato, and John Milton to Edgar Allen Poe, Aleister Crowley, and Charles Baudelaire, this sweeping book chronicles evil and the devil in their many forms. --SMS The Book Against Death by Elias Canetti, tr. Peter Filkins [NF] In this newly-translated collection, Nobel laureate Canetti, who once called himself death's "mortal enemy," muses on all that death inevitably touches—from the smallest ant to the Greek gods—and condemns death as a byproduct of war and despots' willingness to use death as a pathway to power. By means of this book's very publication, Canetti somewhat succeeds in staving off death himself, ensuring that his words live on forever. —DF Rise of a Killah by Ghostface Killah [NF] "Why is the sky blue? Why is water wet? Why did Judas rat to the Romans while Jesus slept?" Ghostface Killah has always asked the big questions. Here's another one: Who needs to read a blurb on a literary site to convince them to read Ghost's memoir? —JHM May 21 Exhibit by R.O. Kwon [F] It's been six years since Kwon's debut, The Incendiaries, hit shelves, and based on that book's flinty prose alone, her latest would be worth a read. But it's also a tale of awakening—of its protagonist's latent queerness, and of the "unquiet spirit of an ancestor," that the author herself calls so "shot through with physical longing, queer lust, and kink" that she hopes her parents will never read it. Tantalizing enough for you? —JHM Cecilia by K-Ming Chang [F] Chang, the author of Bestiary, Gods of Want, and Organ Meats, returns with this provocative and oft-surreal novella. While the story is about two childhood friends who became estranged after a bizarre sexual encounter but re-connect a decade later, it’s also an exploration of how the human body and its excretions can be both pleasurable and disgusting. —CK The Great State of West Florida by Kent Wascom [F] The Great State of West Florida is Wascom's latest gothicomic novel set on Florida's apocalyptic coast. A gritty, ominous book filled with doomed Floridians, the passages fly by with sentences that delight in propulsive excess. In the vein of Thomas McGuane's early novels or Brian De Palma's heyday, this stylized, savory, and witty novel wields pulp with care until it blooms into a new strain of American gothic. —Zachary Issenberg Cartoons by Kit Schluter [F] Bursting with Kafkaesque absurdism and a hearty dab of abstraction, Schluter’s Cartoons is an animated vignette of life's minutae. From the ravings of an existential microwave to a pencil that is afraid of paper, Schluter’s episodic outré oozes with animism and uncanniness. A grand addition to City Light’s repertoire, it will serve as a zany reminder of the lengths to which great fiction can stretch. —DF May 28 Lost Writings by Mina Loy, ed. Karla Kelsey [F] In the early 20th century, avant-garde author, visual artist, and gallerist Mina Loy (1882–1966) led an astonishing creative life amid European and American modernist circles; she satirized Futurists, participated in Surrealist performance art, and created paintings and assemblages in addition to writing about her experiences in male-dominated fields of artistic practice. Diligent feminist scholars and art historians have long insisted on her cultural significance, yet the first Loy retrospective wasn’t until 2023. Now Karla Kelsey, a poet and essayist, unveils two never-before-published, autobiographical midcentury manuscripts by Loy, The Child and the Parent and Islands in the Air, written from the 1930s to the 1950s. It's never a bad time to be re-rediscovered. —NodB I'm a Fool to Want You by Camila Sosa Villada, tr. Kit Maude [F] Villada, whose debut novel Bad Girls, also translated by Maude, captured the travesti experience in Argentina, returns with a short story collection that runs the genre gamut from gritty realism and social satire to science fiction and fantasy. The throughline is Villada's boundless imagination, whether she's conjuring the chaos of the Mexican Inquisition or a trans sex worker befriending a down-and-out Billie Holiday. Angie Cruz calls this "one of my favorite short-story collections of all time." —SMS The Editor by Sara B. Franklin [NF] Franklin's tenderly written and meticulously researched biography of Judith Jones—the legendary Knopf editor who worked with such authors as John Updike, Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Bowen, Anne Tyler, and, perhaps most consequentially, Julia Child—was largely inspired by Franklin's own friendship with Jones in the final years of her life, and draws on a rich trove of interviews and archives. The Editor retrieves Jones from the margins of publishing history and affirms her essential role in shaping the postwar cultural landscape, from fiction to cooking and beyond. —SMS The Book-Makers by Adam Smyth [NF] A history of the book told through 18 microbiographies of particularly noteworthy historical personages who made them? If that's not enough to convince you, consider this: the small press is represented here by Nancy Cunard, the punchy and enormously influential founder of Hours Press who romanced both Aldous Huxley and Ezra Pound, knew Hemingway and Joyce and Langston Hughes and William Carlos Williams, and has her own MI5 file. Also, the subject of the binding chapter is named "William Wildgoose." —JHM June June 4 The Future Was Color by Patrick Nathan [F] A gay Hungarian immigrant writing crappy monster movies in the McCarthy-era Hollywood studio system gets swept up by a famous actress and brought to her estate in Malibu to write what he really cares about—and realizes he can never escape his traumatic past. Sunset Boulevard is shaking. —JHM A Cage Went in Search of a Bird [F] This collection brings together a who's who of literary writers—10 of them, to be precise— to write Kafka fanfiction, from Joshua Cohen to Yiyun Li. Then it throws in weirdo screenwriting dynamo Charlie Kaufman, for good measure. A boon for Kafkaheads everywhere. —JHM We Refuse by Kellie Carter Jackson [NF] Jackson, a historian and professor at Wellesley College, explores the past and present of Black resistance to white supremacy, from work stoppages to armed revolt. Paying special attention to acts of resistance by Black women, Jackson attempts to correct the historical record while plotting a path forward. Jelani Cobb describes this "insurgent history" as "unsparing, erudite, and incisive." —SMS Holding It Together by Jessica Calarco [NF] Sociologist Calarco's latest considers how, in lieu of social safety nets, the U.S. has long relied on women's labor, particularly as caregivers, to hold society together. Calarco argues that while other affluent nations cover the costs of care work and direct significant resources toward welfare programs, American women continue to bear the brunt of the unpaid domestic labor that keeps the nation afloat. Anne Helen Petersen calls this "a punch in the gut and a call to action." —SMS Miss May Does Not Exist by Carrie Courogen [NF] A biography of Elaine May—what more is there to say? I cannot wait to read this chronicle of May's life, work, and genius by one of my favorite writers and tweeters. Claire Dederer calls this "the biography Elaine May deserves"—which is to say, as brilliant as she was. —SMS Fire Exit by Morgan Talty [F] Talty, whose gritty story collection Night of the Living Rez was garlanded with awards, weighs the concept of blood quantum—a measure that federally recognized tribes often use to determine Indigenous membership—in his debut novel. Although Talty is a citizen of the Penobscot Indian Nation, his narrator is on the outside looking in, a working-class white man named Charles who grew up on Maine’s Penobscot Reservation with a Native stepfather and friends. Now Charles, across the river from the reservation and separated from his biological daughter, who lives there, ponders his exclusion in a novel that stokes controversy around the terms of belonging. —NodB June 11 The Material by Camille Bordas [F] My high school English teacher, a somewhat dowdy but slyly comical religious brother, had a saying about teaching high school students: "They don't remember the material, but they remember the shtick." Leave it to a well-named novel about stand-up comedy (by the French author of How to Behave in a Crowd) to make you remember both. --SMS Ask Me Again by Clare Sestanovich [F] Sestanovich follows up her debut story collection, Objects of Desire, with a novel exploring a complicated friendship over the years. While Eva and Jamie are seemingly opposites—she's a reserved South Brooklynite, while he's a brash Upper Manhattanite—they bond over their innate curiosity. Their paths ultimately diverge when Eva settles into a conventional career as Jamie channels his rebelliousness into politics. Ask Me Again speaks to anyone who has ever wondered whether going against the grain is in itself a matter of privilege. Jenny Offill calls this "a beautifully observed and deeply philosophical novel, which surprises and delights at every turn." —LA Disordered Attention by Claire Bishop [NF] Across four essays, art historian and critic Bishop diagnoses how digital technology and the attention economy have changed the way we look at art and performance today, identifying trends across the last three decades. A perfect read for fans of Anna Kornbluh's Immediacy, or the Style of Too Late Capitalism (also from Verso). War by Louis-Ferdinand Céline, tr. Charlotte Mandell [F] For years, literary scholars mourned the lost manuscripts of Céline, the acclaimed and reviled French author whose work was stolen from his Paris apartment after he fled to Germany in 1944, fearing punishment for his collaboration with the Nazis. But, with the recent discovery of those fabled manuscripts, War is now seeing the light of day thanks to New Directions (for anglophone readers, at least—the French have enjoyed this one since 2022 courtesy of Gallimard). Adam Gopnik writes of War, "A more intense realization of the horrors of the Great War has never been written." —DF The Uptown Local by Cory Leadbeater [NF] In his debut memoir, Leadbeater revisits the decade he spent working as Joan Didion's personal assistant. While he enjoyed the benefits of working with Didion—her friendship and mentorship, the more glamorous appointments on her social calendar—he was also struggling with depression, addiction, and profound loss. Leadbeater chronicles it all in what Chloé Cooper Jones calls "a beautiful catalog of twin yearnings: to be seen and to disappear; to belong everywhere and nowhere; to go forth and to return home, and—above all else—to love and to be loved." —SMS Out of the Sierra by Victoria Blanco [NF] Blanco weaves storytelling with old-fashioned investigative journalism to spotlight the endurance of Mexico's Rarámuri people, one of the largest Indigenous tribes in North America, in the face of environmental disasters, poverty, and the attempts to erase their language and culture. This is an important book for our times, dealing with pressing issues such as colonialism, migration, climate change, and the broken justice system. —CK Any Person Is the Only Self by Elisa Gabbert [NF] Gabbert is one of my favorite living writers, whether she's deconstructing a poem or tweeting about Seinfeld. Her essays are what I love most, and her newest collection—following 2020's The Unreality of Memory—sees Gabbert in rare form: witty and insightful, clear-eyed and candid. I adored these essays, and I hope (the inevitable success of) this book might augur something an essay-collection renaissance. (Seriously! Publishers! Where are the essay collections!) —SMS Tehrangeles by Porochista Khakpour [F] Khakpour's wit has always been keen, and it's hard to imagine a writer better positioned to take the concept of Shahs of Sunset and make it literary. "Like Little Women on an ayahuasca trip," says Kevin Kwan, "Tehrangeles is delightfully twisted and heartfelt."  —JHM Traveling: On the Path of Joni Mitchell by Ann Powers [NF] The moment I saw this book's title—which comes from the opening (and, as it happens, my favorite) track on Mitchell's 1971 masterpiece Blue—I knew it would be one of my favorite reads of the year. Powers, one of the very best music critics we've got, masterfully guides readers through Mitchell's life and work at a fascinating slant, her approach both sweeping and intimate as she occupies the dual roles of biographer and fan. —SMS All Desire Is a Desire for Being by René Girard, ed. Cynthia L. Haven [NF] I'll be honest—the title alone stirs something primal in me. In honor of Girard's centennial, Penguin Classics is releasing a smartly curated collection of his most poignant—and timely—essays, touching on everything from violence to religion to the nature of desire. Comprising essays selected by the scholar and literary critic Cynthia L. Haven, who is also the author of the first-ever biographical study of Girard, Evolution of Desire, this book is "essential reading for Girard devotees and a perfect entrée for newcomers," per Maria Stepanova. —DF June 18 Craft by Ananda Lima [F] Can you imagine a situation in which interconnected stories about a writer who sleeps with the devil at a Halloween party and can't shake him over the following decades wouldn't compel? Also, in one of the stories, New York City’s Penn Station is an analogue for hell, which is both funny and accurate. —JHM Parade by Rachel Cusk [F] Rachel Cusk has a new novel, her first in three years—the anticipation is self-explanatory. —SMS Little Rot by Akwaeke Emezi [F] Multimedia polymath and gender-norm disrupter Emezi, who just dropped an Afropop EP under the name Akwaeke, examines taboo and trauma in their creative work. This literary thriller opens with an upscale sex party and escalating violence, and although pre-pub descriptions leave much to the imagination (promising “the elite underbelly of a Nigerian city” and “a tangled web of sex and lies and corruption”), Emezi can be counted upon for an ambience of dread and a feverish momentum. —NodB When the Clock Broke by John Ganz [NF] I was having a conversation with multiple brilliant, thoughtful friends the other day, and none of them remembered the year during which the Battle of Waterloo took place. Which is to say that, as a rule, we should all learn our history better. So it behooves us now to listen to John Ganz when he tells us that all the wackadoodle fascist right-wing nonsense we can't seem to shake from our political system has been kicking around since at least the early 1990s. —JHM Night Flyer by Tiya Miles [NF] Miles is one of our greatest living historians and a beautiful writer to boot, as evidenced by her National Book Award–winning book All That She Carried. Her latest is a reckoning with the life and legend of Harriet Tubman, which Miles herself describes as an "impressionistic biography." As in all her work, Miles fleshes out the complexity, humanity, and social and emotional world of her subject. Tubman biographer Catherine Clinton says Miles "continues to captivate readers with her luminous prose, her riveting attention to detail, and her continuing genius to bring the past to life." —SMS God Bless You, Otis Spunkmeyer by Joseph Earl Thomas [F] Thomas's debut novel comes just two years after a powerful memoir of growing up Black, gay, nerdy, and in poverty in 1990s Philadelphia. Here, he returns to themes and settings that in that book, Sink, proved devastating, and throws post-service military trauma into the mix. —JHM June 25 The Garden Against Time by Olivia Laing [NF] I've been a fan of Laing's since The Lonely City, a formative read for a much-younger me (and I'd suspect for many Millions readers), so I'm looking forward to her latest, an inquiry into paradise refracted through the experience of restoring an 18th-century garden at her home the English countryside. As always, her life becomes a springboard for exploring big, thorny ideas (no pun intended)—in this case, the possibilities of gardens and what it means to make paradise on earth. —SMS Cue the Sun! by Emily Nussbaum [NF] Emily Nussbaum is pretty much the reason I started writing. Her 2019 collection of television criticism, I Like to Watch, was something of a Bible for college-aged me (and, in fact, was the first book I ever reviewed), and I've been anxiously awaiting her next book ever since. It's finally arrived, in the form of an utterly devourable cultural history of reality TV. Samantha Irby says, "Only Emily Nussbaum could get me to read, and love, a book about reality TV rather than just watching it," and David Grann remarks, "It’s rare for a book to feel alive, but this one does." —SMS Woman of Interest by Tracy O'Neill [NF] O’Neill's first work of nonfiction—an intimate memoir written with the narrative propulsion of a detective novel—finds her on the hunt for her biological mother, who she worries might be dying somewhere in South Korea. As she uncovers the truth about her enigmatic mother with the help of a private investigator, her journey increasingly becomes one of self-discovery. Chloé Cooper Jones writes that Woman of Interest “solidifies her status as one of our greatest living prose stylists.” —LA Dancing on My Own by Simon Wu [NF] New Yorkers reading this list may have witnessed Wu's artful curation at the Brooklyn Museum, or the Whitney, or the Museum of Modern Art. It makes one wonder how much he curated the order of these excellent, wide-ranging essays, which meld art criticism, personal narrative, and travel writing—and count Cathy Park Hong and Claudia Rankine as fans. —JHM [millions_email]

Put It in a Box and Wait: The Millions Interviews Cheryl Strayed

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Three books by Cheryl Strayed have been published in 2012. Wild, the bestselling memoir of a solo journey on the Pacific Crest Trail that inspired Oprah to restart her book club. Tiny Beautiful Things, a collection of pseudonymously-written Dear Sugar literary advice columns from The Rumpus. And most recently Torch, a new edition of a lyrical novel first published in 2006 about a family’s struggles with the loss of the wife and mother who was its emotional center. It is ordinary and human to fall down and to make mistakes, and it is courageous to get back up. Throughout her writing, but particularly as Sugar, Strayed rummages through her failures and sorrows as though they were a sack of Christmas presents, offering each story as a gift of compassion that seems so well-matched to each letter writer that readers can’t possibly overlook the message that our lives -- not just at their best moments, but also our worst -- are of great value. People want to talk to Cheryl Strayed for many reasons these days; mine were mostly personal: she’s a writer in her 40s who lost her mom to cancer and struggled for years to come to terms with that loss. We have very different lives, but those words describe me, too. I asked The Millions to host our conversation, and what follows is an edited transcript of our 90-minute telephone call. Robin Grearson: Jessica Weisberg described you in The New Yorker recently this way: “Her comfort with her own imperfection is a small example of feminism’s accomplishments; she is a reminder that anyone with a troubled past could one day become a voice of authority.”  I wonder if you want to comment on how that feels, becoming a voice of authority? Cheryl Strayed: I really liked that piece a lot. It was fun to read about the history of the advice column. A voice of authority, I had two responses to that. It’s really important to me that people, for example who have experienced big grief, can say to me, thank you for writing what I feel but couldn’t write. It’s not as if the writer has invented these feelings; it’s that the writer has managed to convey them on the page in ways that maybe people who aren’t writers can’t. And that’s the way I read that. Not that I am the expert on things that other people aren’t the expert on. But rather that I'm able through storytelling to reveal a part of the human experience in literary ways. And that’s exactly what I’d always hoped to do and achieve. You know, as Sugar would say, like if I were writing a Sugar column, I would look up the word authority and ask, Where does that come from? We hear that word, authority, and we think it is that kind of power over, or superiority. I don’t think it means that. The meaning I take from it is, that I have been writing long enough that I get at this kind of work of delving into the human experience through writing, that’s maybe what she’s identifying in that piece. The other thing I want to say is, so often we think that people who have had difficulties or grown up poor like I did, that, somehow we don’t have a voice in the culture. And the many people who have gone on to have a voice in the culture are people who persisted and who kept talking. And in some ways I guess that’s what I've done all these years, just writing and writing, come what may, and keeping the faith with that. RG: I found Dear Sugar and The Rumpus around the same time that I moved to New York, so for me, Sugar was a New Yorker, I was sure you lived nearby. CS: Sugar was like a character in a novel. Some people imagined her tall and skinny and roaming Brooklyn. A lot of people have said, I thought you were this African American writer living in, like, New Orleans or something. So people project whatever it is maybe that they are or what they want or something, onto Sugar. RG: Did your friends always know you were Sugar? CS: I had no idea when I began that this would become what it has. So at first I didn’t really think of it as this huge secret. And then once it started to gain a following, I thought, oh, maybe I should just really not go blabbing around to everyone. But Stephen Elliott and Isaac Fitzgerald at The Rumpus, they would sometimes tell people. Isaac is the managing editor of The Rumpus, he’s this young, handsome guy, and he would joke that he would tell women to get them to sleep with him. He’d say, like, I'll tell you who Sugar is, if -- RG: Did that work? CS: I think it was pretty effective. [LAUGHS] But it probably doesn’t hurt that he’s young and handsome and sweet. So it became, you know, if I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna see what it's like to try to maintain anonymity. RG: Do you ever do something and think, Sugar would kick my ass for doing that. Is there any kind of interaction with her as an other, an alter-ego? CS: Oh, all the time. Sugar is, like, the best version of myself. Like, what is the best or right-est thing to do in any given situation. And that can be really hard to do. Like, just to speak honestly to a friend or a parent or a lover. I experience those things as stressful and hard, too. And sometimes it’s easier to be kind of dysfunctional, or to allow a dysfunction to continue. The reason we use denial, for example, it's a great survival mechanism. So many of us get into trouble with setting boundaries, have chosen not to set boundaries for our short-term survival or benefit. But ultimately that comes back and bites you in the ass. I have to remember that all the time and remind myself of that. There’s still lots of stuff I'm constantly struggling with. And the whole deal with Sugar, is, I always say, look, I'm not giving you advice from this position of superiority or perfection. RG: Sugar offers Cheryl’s mistakes as a light in the tunnel of someone else’s journey, lets the reader see someone’s failures, but there’s a key element in that, she never apologizes to the reader. My way of understanding that, even if you did something you felt was wrong, your apology would have been to that person. There are so many ways females can be torn apart when they try to be multifaceted, and publicly. So much dignity comes from Sugar and Cheryl. In your essay “The Love of My Life,” there is a dignity that comes from claiming responsibility for your behavior and saying, I'm not going to defend myself, I'm not going to apologize for myself. Have you always had that? You have to fight to have that, I think. CS: Thank you so much. Nobody’s quite articulated it in that way before. I think you’re right. That is a really important thing to me, not that I'm not sorry about things, I'm very -- but that, I'm sorry about them to the person who -- I mean, I apologize to the person who deserves the apology, not to the culture that thinks that women shouldn’t have abortions or have sex with people, you know what I mean. RG: Right. CS: I'm not going to apologize for being female or human. But I will apologize to the party I've wronged. About a month ago, I posted this video on my Facebook page about being pro choice and why. There was this conversation that ensued in the comments about whether abortion should be legal. And this man who is a fan of Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things said, well, I'm against abortion, but I do think it should be legal. And Cheryl, the thing about you is, you had an abortion but you regret it. And you’ve told us how that does stay with you and how many regrets you have about it. And I was like, uh, no I haven’t. I thought, I can’t let that stand. I said, actually, you're mistaken. I do not regret it. I wish I hadn’t gotten pregnant. I don’t think it’s this great, exciting chapter of my life that I treasure. But I certainly think that having an abortion was the best thing I could have done in that situation. And I have absolutely no regrets whatsoever, nor am I scarred by the experience. I think it's really important to assert that. Because the generation of women before us, they could do things like have an abortion or have sex in ways that are conceived as promiscuous, so long as they felt bad about it afterward or have been, like, oh, but what I was really looking for was love. When really it's -- a lot of times what I was really looking for was sex. You know what I mean? RG: Definitely. CS: So it's up to us, it's up to our generation, to just not ask for permission. I think that not asking for permission to be human is a really big part of being a fully actualized human. I think with all humility, you should be accountable to your actions. But also that, with that apology, be able to report what your actions were. RG: I was my mom’s caretaker as you were for your mom, and after she passed away, I experienced this, I guess, hypersexuality. I never knew where to put it in my life, to relate to it without apologizing or saying, yeah, that was not me. But it isn’t my self-definition, either; it was complicated. Grief just broke my life. But specifically that piece of it, that piece of, yes, I did this. There’s nowhere that is discussed. And you write about that. CS: It's fascinating, many women have said this to me, about this hypersexualized thing in their grief. I think it's pretty common. “The Love of My Life” was published in 2002. Many people would say, I think I even say it in that essay -- I certainly say it in Wild. I would say of myself, I'm more like a guy -- I'm more like a man than a woman sexually. Because I did want to just have sex without emotional connections. Like, that was actually very much what I wanted. And what I've come to understand is, no, no. I've talked to enough women now, that -- like, no, no. I have the sexuality of a woman, it's just that women have never been allowed to publicly say that that can be part of our sexuality. Though, of course, the most meaningful sex is with emotional connection. I'm not saying that those were the greatest experiences of my life. But they were experiences, and they were necessary. And they were part of who I am. I think that when we don’t allow women to have that be part of who we are, when that’s defined just as male, as I did, because I didn’t know any other way to define it, we’re robbing women of their full humanity. And so, by saying, I was this way, and I am a woman, and I'm not the only woman who was this way -- you know, without apology -- this is in some ways restoring just really what’s ours, and what’s there. RG: Yes. My mom passed away, and a four-year-long relationship ended a week later. I felt like I needed to teach the world that I wanted to be excused from being a responsible adult. I felt like I regressed back to this teenager’s behavior because I just wanted to say, you see someone who’s 30, but really, I cannot act like 30 right now. CS: Absolutely. I really relate to that teenager thing. You know, 'cause I honestly think that that’s also why I got involved with heroin. I couldn’t see it then, even though I could feel it in my body. I was just trying to be really kind of bad, and rail against -- not even the culture. Like, life could not go on as normal without my mom. You know. RG: Right. CS: And I was not gonna just be, like, well, that was really sad, but here we go, forward. And of course, in the end, that’s what I had to do. That was actually the big lesson. At the end of Wild, it really is, it's that moment in my life where I was, like, okay. It is sad that my mom died, it's terrible. And it will always, always be terrible. And yet, the deal is, is I have to go on. I have to go on living, and I can’t go on living like a little petulant teenage brat anymore. Because it's ruining my life. But I did need to not have a normal life for a while there. I had to just in some ways self-destruct. And some of it was just to get attention and some of it was just to sort of act out some of my sorrow. RG: I read that grief’s end can be signified as a time when the relationship transforms from a focus on what you’ve lost, to an acknowledgment of gratitude for having the person in your life as long as you had them. Was coming to the end of the trail when you recognized that part of the grieving process was behind you? CS: Yeah, I think it's complicated. Because it's not one moment; many moments over many years have given me a deeper and deeper sense of acceptance. And I am really grateful for my mother, but what’s complicated is, I always was really grateful for my mother. I literally did not know how the hell I was to be expected to live without my mom. And it's awful. It’s awful, awful, awful, that I’d have to live without my mom. It still is terrible. When I think about it I still can get just appalled by it. And yet, it's also like, well, she just gives me so much. And I am so lucky she was my mom. We started off talking about this being this way that I kind of stepped outside of the sort of expectations of women and what’s considered good behavior and bad, that I behaved badly, and this feeling that I don’t need to apologize for it. I feel really strongly about that. And I feel it not just on my own behalf but on behalf of anyone who’s really ever had to come to grips with something that was tremendously difficult. People do all kinds of unexpected things in these transitional times of their lives. And they don’t need to be sorry for it, because it is part of being human, and it isn’t about being a good person or a bad person. I think just telling the truth of that is kind of important and revolutionary. RG: After I lost my mom I felt, I can’t continue, I can’t imagine anyone would expect that I could. But I felt overly empathic, too, like, I felt other people’s suffering so acutely that I tried to shelter everyone from going through what I felt. Cheryl and Sugar seem to write from that, that compassion of remembering how awful it was. CS: I still feel it. So many people come up to me at my readings, they’ll look me in the eye and say, oh, my mom just died two months ago. Or, my mom has cancer and she’s dying right now. And they start crying. And I just want to absorb them into my bloodstream or something. It pains me profoundly to know they’re in the midst of that. But this is what I really try to offer as Sugar. Through what I write about that experience, it helps people feel not alone. If I'm a little further down the grief path, maybe it’s a little bit of comfort to know that you can feel this way, at this point, and come out the other side and feel this other way. That’s just what I really try to do, to offer that understanding and compassion and perspective. Like, it’ll be okay. I would say that’s the central message of Sugar. It’ll be okay. ‘Cause it usually will be okay, even if it’s pretty awful. RG: That comes across when you talk about Mr. Sugar and the baby Sugars. That gives the feeling of, there’s a happily ever after, there’s something after where you are now, because there was for me. CS: I've always thought that the important thing is to turn our suffering into beauty. And the image of the phoenix rising from the ashes has always been super-cool to me, that idea of our greatest beauty and strength rising out of the things that have been destroyed and have been lost. In Wild I talk about this book that I carried all the way with me, this collection of poems by Adrienne Rich called The Dream of A Common Language. And on the trail in Wild, I read that first poem, it's called “Power.” The poem is about Marie Curie, who discovered radiation. And she ended up dying of basically radiation exposure, this disease that had been essentially her greatest achievement. Marie Curie could never admit that’s what was killing her. And Adrienne Rich writes, she died a famous woman denying that the greatest source of her power was her wound. I'm paraphrasing it, but essentially it's that. The thing about Adrienne Rich and what I was trying to do also in my writing career is to do the opposite, to not deny that our power comes from our wounds, that those deep wounds are the place of our power, and to really write from that place in my own life. That goes back to this earlier question about authority. That’s what authority is. When you’re actually writing from that deepest place within you, if you tell the truth, you’re using your greatest power and your greatest authority. That’s a key piece, not just doing that as a writer but when we talk about healing. Whatever the loss may be, not avoiding that wound, not trying to have it covered up and pretend it's not there but rather to look into it. RG: What happens to Sugar now? CS: The idea was always to go back to the Sugar column, and I do hope to do that, but I just don't know when, and I don't know how that’s gonna look. I’d also love to start working on another book. I would love to write another novel. I'm kind of over myself at this point. RG: I read an interview in which you mention living off of credit cards while finishing Torch, after grad school. CS: Yeah, and Wild. RG: It seems potentially irresponsible, but maybe the more responsible choice in being accountable to a bigger priority. How did you decide to take that kind of risk? CS: I know a lot of people would think that’s just incredibly irresponsible. And it can be irresponsible if you’re not actually writing. If you’re saying that you’re working on your novel and you’re not really working on your novel and you’re just living on your credit cards, that’s probably a really bad idea. I didn’t just do it once, I did it twice. RG: Wow. For how long? CS: In graduate school I got a modest fellowship that covered a portion of our expenses. And my husband is a documentary filmmaker. So I said, after graduate school, should I get a job? I feel like if I just keep pushing on this novel -- I was about halfway done with it when I finished graduate school. I felt like I could crank out that next half over the next year, roughly. And my husband was like, absolutely. Let’s just go for it. We had three or four credit cards. We just said, okay, this is probably completely crazy, but we’re just gonna do this. He was making enough so he could make the minimum payments. We were running up credit card debt so I could write this book instead of doing the “responsible thing” and getting a job that would then prevent me from finishing my book. And it surely would have. Because it was all I could do to finish that damn book. I did, a little more than a year after grad school ended. I finished it, and Houghton Mifflin bought it. Actually the way it pays out, you get four checks. What you’re really getting is over the course of four years. So that first check, the agent takes a percentage, and then there’s taxes. That whole first check that I got, we paid off our credit card debt. It wasn’t like we got that check and then we could live off that money. We got that check and we paid off the past debt. RG: So you could get to zero. CS: So we could get to zero, and then we were just back to being broke again. The first check that I got for Wild, too, the whole thing went to credit card debt. I would say, it's probably not a good idea to do that if you’re a poet. Sadly, you’re not gonna get a book advance for your poetry. But, fiction and memoir, I mean, that’s the gamble, right? You could get zero, nobody could ever buy it from you. You could get a few thousand dollars from a small press, so that’s not gonna probably do much in terms of helping you pay back that credit card debt. Or you could get a solid advance from a publisher, a large press that will maybe allow you to pay back the debt that you’ve run up to write the book. RG: Was there an idea, like, I hope I'll get this much of an advance or -- CS: I wrote the book I wanted to write, and then I hoped that someone would want to publish it. But in both cases, I was fully prepared to have to deal with, if I didn’t sell those books, I was gonna just have to pay off this debt. A lot of people go get their MFA and they’re just at the beginning of their writing career trying to finish that first book. That’s when they have that full-time job teaching comp or teaching five classes or whatever. They hardly ever have time to write, and then years and years go by, and they never do finish that first book. So what I thought is, give me a chance. When I really got to the point where I really, really was ready to finish a book. I thought, just give me this space so I can see what happens when I finish. And I was lucky. RG: My grandmother was the voice in our family of, you know, can’t you please work at the post office, just do the secure thing. You’d want to prove her wrong, but of course you can’t until you take those risks. My mother’s last lucid words to me were, “Never think you have to justify your life to anyone,” which, 11 years ago didn’t really have a context. But over the years, the words became a pretty profound gift. After my grandmother passed away, eight months afterward, I came to New York, where in many ways I’m just beginning as a writer. CS: That’s the trick about artists, most of us, not just in our own families but in the whole world, it's, like, okay, why are you being so unreasonable and irresponsible by not getting a secure job? What do you mean you want to write? Those people have good intentions. What your grandmom is saying is she wants you to be safe and secure and happy. But it's not gonna ultimately make you happy because you’re not doing what you really are here to do. There’s this wonderful quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald that I love, nobody wants a soldier who is only a little brave. And if you’re gonna be a writer, you just truly have to be a writer. You have to throw yourself into it and deal with the negative consequences of that. And there are negative consequences. I mean, there are. But, it’s also true that you wouldn't be interviewing me right now if I had worked at the post office. You wouldn't. I would be still writing, but I wouldn't have gotten as far as I've gotten, because I wouldn't have had the time. I just wouldn't have, I have two little kids. You do have to take those risks that other people are not going to think are reasonable or good risks to take. And the advice that your mom gave you, to say you don’t have to justify your life, it's all about that. Every artist at some point had to decide that they didn’t have to justify themselves to the people around them. It did feel frivolous to me, to be a writer. But I had to always say, but trust me, this is important work. RG: My mother’s advice reminds me of the Dear Sugar column you wrote about the little girl’s dress your mother wanted you to buy. CS: Oh yeah, totally. That was amazing, what a treasure that I have that dress. My mother just having the wisdom, at that moment in my youth, I'm, like, I doubt I'll even want kids. And she knows, it doesn’t really matter what I'm thinking at that age. She was just very, just get the dress, put it in a box and wait. And I think that “put it in a box and wait” idea of her buying this dress and giving it to me, and I put it in a box and waited. That’s such a key, key, key, piece of wisdom that is true in all of these different parts of our lives. So many of us, we feel really in a hurry, we want life to be really good and perfect every day, and I want that too. But we don’t know what will come to pass. And this has everything to do, too, with this writing thing that we’ve been talking about. Like, me just deciding to live off credit cards to finish Torch. It’s totally, put it in a box and wait, just doing the work and seeing what happens as a result of it. If I just sat around eating tacos that whole time, running up my credit cards, what I have put into that box wouldn't have delivered. I would have opened that box later and it would have been, okay, well, I didn’t write my novel, I just ran up my credit card bill. RG: Right. CS: But I did write my novel. And I ran up my credit card bill. And what happened when I opened the box is, I got a check that paid the credit card bill. Metaphorically speaking, I think that happens in marriages and friendships and in all different ways in our lives, you know. So I would say that’s pretty good wisdom from my mom. RG: You wrote about how your first published story won a contest and was published in a book. I have an impression that you haven’t had many of your essays and stories rejected. CS: I have had successes all along the way and I've had rejections all along the way. I think that’s just true, and it will remain true for all of my writing life. The other day I ended up just sitting down and spontaneously writing this essay called, “How to Get Published.” And it tells the story, the trajectory and essentially the back story of “The Love of My Life.” Where I sent it and who rejected it and how, or what they said, and how it found its home. But it was rejected by, like, five places before it found its place at The Sun. There are very few times that the first place I sent it was the place that took it. Now it's a little different. I'll be invited to write something, and unless they really hate it -- which has also happened. The Washington Post Magazine, a few years ago, they asked all these fiction writers to write nonfiction for their summer issue. It could be anything, it just had to happen in the summer. I wrote this essay called “Baby Weight,” about the first summer I was a mother. I sent it to the editor, and he said he was hoping for a story that was a little more universal. Which makes me laugh, because, really? So he rejected it, he said no. And he had commissioned me. I said, well, I'll just write you something else, and we talked about different ideas. I ended up writing a different essay called “Splendid Isolation” that was about the incredibly universal experience of me spending a summer with my family living pioneer style, off the grid, in this shack while we built our house and didn’t have, like, plumbing or electricity or running water. So that was published. I think that is a great example of, like, okay, even when you’re invited, you still can be humiliated sometimes. Photo courtesy of Cheryl Strayed