The Millions Interview Archives - Page 14 of 22 - The Millions
July 18, 2012
“It occurred to me I hadn’t really read anything about gay soldiers in the trenches — there must have been gay soldiers there, and surrounded by so much horror, relationships must have struck up. But that wasn’t something I had read. It was a new way into a familiar story.”
July 6, 2012
by Pete Croatto
“If one of those [Cleveland] teams were to actually win a championship, I think it would be an unmitigated joy. I can’t imagine any Cleveland fan going, ‘You know, I really liked it better when we could uniquely identify ourselves by our suffering.’ I can’t. That thought is, if not really even perverse, it’s just ridiculous.”
June 28, 2012
by John Wray
The purpose of my acknowledgment of the existence of human sexuality in the novel was to make myself and my family (and probably the reader) as uncomfortable as possible…Speaking of which, instead of Otis Redding, I’m going to sing “My Humps.” Hold my beer, please.
June 25, 2012
by Edan Lepucki
“I felt like I had to earn the right to write this book, and the only way I could do that was by working very hard to imagine myself into the soldier’s experience, and hopefully write it correctly.”
June 22, 2012
by Anna Solomon
We’ve come a long way since George Eliot had to call herself George Eliot, but you’d have to be blind to think we live in an equal world.
June 20, 2012
The incredibly true story of how one would-be novelist self-published his way to greatness.
June 12, 2012
The career of a writer is always an exception. There is never one way it happens, but the temptation to draw conclusions from another writer’s experience is always there.
May 17, 2012
I think songs are really great, kind of, delivery vehicles for a story. They allow you to make your own conclusions. Good songs never give you everything. So I really believe a song is like an envelope. A novel, you can unfold from a song.
May 9, 2012
by Paul Morton
I write my texts, my sentences, in my head — outside there is a terrible, almost unbearable noise, inside there is a terrible, almost unbearable, pounding silence.
May 4, 2012
by Oliver Farry
Considered by many to be Portugal’s greatest living writer, António Lobo Antunes’ relative obscurity in the English-speaking world is something of an enigma. Every October his name is among those bandied about for the Nobel Prize, yet mention him to most English speakers, even literary types, and you will be met with terribly blank looks.