The following is an interview with Kirby Gann, author of two novels, The Barbarian Parade, and Our Napoleon in Rags. He is the managing editor of Sarabande Books as well as a teacher in the brief-residency MFA program at Spalding University. He (kind of) also plays a little guitar in KY based roots-rock bands and is a married man.
Dan:
Thank you Kirby for taking a break from all of the above and answering some questions.
Kirby:
Hey Dan. Thank you for asking for the interview; EWN is a great project and I’ve discovered some very interesting writers through your work.
Dan:
Did writing come naturally to you? Were you always interested in it?
Kirby:
I was always a big reader, from childhood on. My mother used to take my brother and me to the library every two weeks, and the trip was presented as a big treat, something special for us to do. She allowed us to check out anything. Later she would ask questions about what we were reading -- so books came to feel important to me, and writers were very cool, even necessary. As for getting started writing myself, it was more an ambition
than something that came naturally; it has always been very difficult to make myself sit quietly with a notebook for twenty minutes, much less three or four hours. But I’ve learned that I become very irritable and depressed if a long time passes without writing.
Like most, I started with bad poetry as a teenager. Then some of the poetry became bad song lyrics as music became a big part of my life (around fifteen years old). At the same time, though, I knew I wanted to write prose, preferably novels -- even if I had no idea how one would go about it. I’m still not sure I know the best way to go about it, actually.
My method requires groping in the dark for a long, long time, staying with a project on baseless faith.
Dan:
Your work has been published by Hill Street Press and Ig Publishing. Being the Managing Editor at Sarabande Books, were you looking to be published by a smaller independent press because of the perceived benefits you see your own press offering authors you publish?
Kirby:
This could be a very long answer but I’ll try to keep it short. That said, I’ve written three novels and published the last two. The first sits in a box on the floor of my closet. When I completed it I was very naive about the industry (meaning: I hoped to make decent money off of my writing), and went the traditional route of finding an agent and then waiting as the agent tried to sell the manuscript to the large houses -- all of which
said nice things, some not-so-nice things, and some outright mean things as they declined to take on the book. This took a long time. My agent dropped me and I went back and revised the novel and tried with another agent: same result. Then I wrote THE BARBARIAN PARADE and went through a similar process, finally selling the book myself to Hill Street. All of this took about six years from my life, just waiting around. By the time OUR NAPOLEON IN RAGS was finished, I’d been working in publishing for about six years and knew I’d written a book that a major house would find
uncommercial, and so I ignored the typical way of doing things. Instead I queried a few small houses that I respected, all of which asked to see the manuscript, two of which offered to publish the book. I chose Ig Publishing because they were first to respond and they also seemed to have a lot of energy and enthusiasm -- not just for my book, but in general.
Dan:
Is there a reason you switched from Hill Street Press to Ig?
Kirby:
Yes.
(Cue long, awkward silence.)
Dan:
The Barbarian Parade, your first published novel. Does it contain more autobiographical aspects than Our Napoleon in Rags? When you look back on it, are you surprised by the level of autobiography (or lack thereof) in it?
Kirby:
Yes, it does have a considerable amount of autobiography in it, in the sense that I started from my own experience and then invented drastically; there are parallels between major events in my life and those in the life of BP’s narrator, Gabriel Toure. RAGS, however, came more from observing the experience of others, and then inventing from that.
I’m not surprised by the level of autobiography in PARADE, because that was my intent; my first novel (the unpublished one) was far from my own experience -- in fact, for a long time, I didn’t care much for writers who mined their own lives; I thought it signified lack of imagination. But when I began writing PARADE I was living overseas and my memories of home seemed very vivid, and so it seemed natural to begin exploring them on paper.
Dan:
I believe I read somewhere that you sold The Barbarian Parade by yourself. Do you still work without an agent? Are there benefits to doing so that you’ve found?
Kirby:
Well, it ain’t for everybody (working without an agent).... For someone like me, who knows how to read a publishing contract because I work “on the other side” in my regular job, and who likes working with the smaller houses, an agent hasn’t been necessary. There are some benefits, in that without an agent you get to be involved closely with what is happening with your book, and thus can feel like you have some control over how
it is presented to the world. But I think I’m allowed to do this because I’m an editor myself, and so my publisher knows I’m not going to expect the world from them.
One small benefit from not having an agent is that you don’t have to give up a percentage of your royalties. But there are many drawbacks, too, and I wouldn’t recommend going without an agent unless a writer understands publishing contracts. Not to say that publishers try to exploit writers, but they are a business, and in the initial draft of a contract they are going to keep close to their own interests. An agent will know what
changes to ask for/insist upon on the writer’s behalf (these are questions that have mostly to do with subsidiary rights, but also, to a degree, marketing). Also, an agent is going to have good contacts of their own for using those subsidiary rights -- translations, film, et cetera. I don’t have those contacts, and neither of my books are available in foreign
languages, et cetera.
All this to say that it would be good to have an agent, as long as the agent is a good one and the relationship between the two of us was good. But it’s not necessary to have one, unless you are really hoping to go the big-house route, in which case the door is closed without one.
Dan:
Our Napoleon in Rags has garnered some fantastic reviews – for instance, Rain Taxi claimed you to be ‘one of the more exciting writers to come along in recent years.’ Are you a big reader of book reviews in general? What about those of your own works?
Kirby:
Sure, I read book reviews all the time, and find myself lamenting the book review as a lost art form -- so many now are simply about the reviewer, and then summarize the book with a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. But there are pockets where good, considered reviews are still being made: Rain Taxi tops my list, and not just because they liked RAGS; their reviews are typically smart and even illuminating. The one-page reviews in The Believer can be quite thoughtful (and entertaining). Also Bookforum. What I hope to find in a book review is one interesting mind considerately confronting another (reviewer and review-ee -- I like to think of a book as a mind alive on the page). It can be stimulating to see why someone thinks a book succeeds, or fails, or maintains the middle ground; that
can be helpful in forming one’s own thoughts and tastes.
And sure, I read reviews of my own works (and don’t believe writers who say they don’t). Fortunately the bad reviews have been few. But I try not to dwell upon them, good or bad; it’s just encouraging to be in the conversation at all, and then it’s always surprising to hear what a stranger thinks of some project you spent four or five years sweating over.
Dan:
Our Napoleon in Rags does a masterful job of infusing a story with some big themes: finding love, as well as grass-roots efforts at trying to change the world, and keeps it on an even keel by infusing the story with humor – though fairly black humor. Was it important to you to find this balance, or does that humor just naturally find its way into your work?
Kirby:
Both, though it strikes me as presumptuous on my part to say that “humor just naturally finds its way” into my work.... I’m very glad you thought the book had its funny moments, Dan -- obviously you are a very discerning and astute reader with excellent taste! But RAGS wrestles with some big themes that are very important to me: the different forms love can take, but also the responsibilities of community; what do we owe one another, just by being here together at the same time? When I consider both novels,
it’s apparent to me that both of these questions are deeply ingrained in both stories. At the same time, it’s difficult not to come off as overly earnest in the pursuit of these themes; hence, a little bit of humor to lighten the load. (I do believe novels should be entertaining, too.) As far as the blackness of that humor: most of the situations that interest me tend to be fairly dark, and thus the humor that would go with them is dark, too. And it was hard not to laugh at some of the situations these characters created for themselves.
Dan:
Both books are set in Montreux, KY. Is this going to continue in the future of your writing?
Kirby:
Montreux is a fictionalized version of Louisville, KY, where I grew up and now live. When writing PARADE I found it easier to work if I could compress neighborhoods in Louisville, move things around to suit my purposes, but I didn’t want to worry about someone who knows the city to read the book and think, “No, it’s not like that at all. This guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” So I just made up a place. In a way that I now think of as indicative of our age, the last thing I wanted was to be held accountable for what I’d created.
What I’m working on now takes place outside the city, because I needed a more rural setting. This has required making up a new county. Perhaps in a few years I’ll have invented an entirely separate state.
Dan:
When you began writing Our Napoleon in Rags, how much was planned out ahead of time?
Kirby:
Literally none of it. That’s what I meant earlier when I wrote that my method employs groping in the dark. All my writing begins with very vague and uncertain starting points, and I can’t say what a particular project is “about” until I’ve drafted it. Then I have to set about figuring if it is worth telling, and, if so, what might be the best way to tell it; then
I sculpt the narrative along those lines (which takes forever); finally I begin to pay close attention to the paragraphs and sentences and how they fit together, how they sound, what the words evoke. So the purgatory of near-endless revision is my lot.
RAGS began as an unsuccessful short story about the decline of a neighborhood, narrated by a man named Haycraft Keebler, that I wrote nearly ten years ago and then set aside. I went back to it after finishing PARADE, and the manuscript became a novella of about 100 pages -- at that point several of the other characters had been introduced, and I knew I could make a novel out of the material. The basic structure had become clear in mind, and, most importantly for this book -- the ending, also. As you know, the last few pages unveil a surprise that encourages the reader to reconsider everything that has occurred in the novel thus far. In the actual composition, though, that surprise came as a surprise to me, too; I worried for a long time that to keep it would make the ending appear too
contrived. And yet it fit, and -- to my mind -- seemed inevitable; it also managed to make me enthusiastic about the project again, and made clear the task of what needed to be done in the stages of revision to make the story’s disparities cohere.
So, on one hand nothing was planned, but by the time I was writing the novel that was published, you could say I knew everything but the exact words to use.
Dan:
There certainly seems to be a message or two the reader is supposed to take from Our Napoleon in Rags. Do you intend that as a writer? Do you hope to help readers form conclusions, or just to get them thinking about certain aspects of life around them?
Kirby:
No no no, there are no messages I’m trying to impart to readers. If you have a message to deliver, write a sermon. Novels aren’t meant for messages, nor are they particularly good at developing insightful conclusions; what they can do -- at least what I try to do in mine – is hover around, stimulate, even prod useful questions. Writing fiction is a highly thorough, if skewed, way of thinking about whatever realities obsess the writer. In my own work I’m much more concerned with delivering interesting people and lingering images to a reader’s mind; if what’s on the page makes the reader notice and consider something about the way we live, then that’s excellent. But I don’t believe I have any special points to make that others haven’t made already, and, most likely, made better.
Dan:
You also co-edited an anthology with Kristin Herbert entitled A Fine Excess: Contemporary Literature at Play. What does Play mean in that title? What about the works within the covers brought everything together for the two of you and why was it important to you that they be able to be found together in one volume?
Kirby:
Well, the whole project began because Kristin and I had the opportunity to produce an anthology for Sarabande; so we just started reading a lot of work and setting aside stories and poems that we liked, hoping that we’d eventually find something in common among them all. It turned out that many of them did, and that’s where this notion of “Play” came in -- essentially: language being used not just for functional purposes, but with intensity and fervor. We’d grown tired of the K-mart realism standard, and discovered a great many writers who obviously had, too. “Play” can take on many forms -- structure (think Nabokov and Calvino), language, topic. Style and sensibility, really. We could have selected a number of other works aside from the ones that are included in the published volume; the pieces included are just great examples of what we were looking for and wanted to celebrate.
Dan:
You have a website, www.kirbygann.net. What do you hope to do with this site? Publicize your work? Post new work? Network?
Kirby:
Uhm, I confess I began the website because one often hears that a writer should have a website. Now that it’s up and running, I’d like to get a better idea of what to do with it -- basically I just wanted to wave my hand in the crowd and shout, “Hey, I’m here, too!” It’s been helpful for publicity purposes and announcing readings, and there’s some
interesting stuff on it if anyone is interested, but I haven’t concentrated on the site too much. I’m not the most web-savvy individual, and if anyone reading this interviews has thoughts or suggestions they’d like to share, I’d be willing to listen. I did recently complete a short story that I’ve been considering posting as a PDF rather than submitting to magazines. As an experiment of some kind.
Dan:
You have an offer at the site to be available to book clubs by phone. Have any clubs taken you up on that offer? If so, how did it go?
Kirby:
I’ve had exactly one invitation, and it went quite well and everyone seemed pleased, once we figured out that it was best to have a speaker phone available. Otherwise there’s always the wine lush who hogs the phone and wants to talk about your dogs. I’ve also done a few web chats, and that seems to be a more ideal form, although the questions can come at too fast a pace.
Dan:
What exactly does the Managing Editor at Sarabande Books do on a daily basis?
Kirby:
We’re a small press with only three full-time employees, so everyone has their hand in just about everything. Most of my day is spent in some aspect of book production -- from searching for cover art to approving the final text and cover from the printer; designing ads, catalogues, and newsletters; and editing. I work as a fiction editor here, too, and so
spend time evaluating manuscripts or else working on the ones we’ve already accepted for publication. Typically a managing editor does much of the organizing of an office, keeping everything running; this is a bit of a joke in my case, as my colleagues would be happy to point out. I’m by far the most disorganized one of us. My real title in the office is Managing Somehow.
Dan:
You teach at Spalding University, a brief-residency MFA program. What benefits do you see to the brief residency program vs. a full blown MFA program. Any negatives?
Kirby:
I think the brief-residency template is ideal for writers. But then I would, wouldn’t I? I happened to take my own MFA from a similar program, and now I teach in one, so therefore it must be the best of all possible ways of teaching writing.... Truthfully, though, the great aspect of the brief res programs is that for two years students have to burrow away and write and then think about what an informed reader has said about what
they’ve written. The residencies -- there are two a year – last something like twelve days, and the rest of your year is spent creating work that receives an immediate, detailed, and informed response once every few weeks. The student focuses upon his or her own writing for the majority of the semester; not on every other student’s writing. Theoretically (if you were to only create first drafts and never revise until your last
semester), you can have up to 250 pages of your work critiqued per semester -- that’s 500 pages a year. The faculty has, at most, four other students in the program at the same time, and so I think a student can receive very focused commentary in the brief-res way as opposed to the traditional way. There seems to be a much less competitive atmosphere
at the brief-res programs, too, from what I understand. As our Director Sena Naslund likes to announce on the first evening of every residency, “The competition is in the library.” That’s a healthy attitude, and true.
Dan:
Who is this Kirkby Tittle guy playing guitar around Louisville that looks a bit like you?
Kirby:
An associate of dogs. Actually, yes, “Kirkby Tittle” is my given name. Going back to agents, briefly: an agent who took on manuscript #1 talked me out of using my real
name, saying it was goofy. My middle name is Gann, and Kirby is a nickname I’ve had for a long time; the agent was a big name in New York and I was a young guy from Kentucky who didn’t know anything, and so I went with the pseudonym, and began publishing stories under that name. After the agent dropped me I considered going back to my real name, but there were those stories already out there, soooo.... I stuck with it. Now I like to think that anytime I’m out there as Kirby Gann, I’m actually incognito.
Dan:
Paul Westerberg’s Come Feel Me Tremble – a return to his top form, or muddled basement tapes in serious need of a producer not named Westerberg?
Kirby:
Both. Great songs and a triumphant revitalization of spirit to Westerberg’s writing. Yet also the sloppiest recording I’ve ever heard, and it’s really too bad he didn’t splurge for the cost of an actual drummer rather than insisting he do it all himself.... On the other
hand, I’m glad a lot of those songs aren’t slicked up with production; his forte has always been raw expression, and Come Feel Me Tremble definitely nails that.
Dan:
Finally (I can almost hear you sigh), if you were a character in “Fahrenheit 451,” what work(s) would you memorize for posterity?
Kirby:
Dostoyevsky’s novel DEMONS, as a way of remembering why and how the human race always risks the society of F-451; John Berger’s AND OUR FACES, MY HEART, BRIEF AS PHOTOS, because it’s beautiful; and then either Sterne’s TRISTRAM SHANDY or Svevo’s ZENO’S CONSCIENCE, because both of those books are a hoot.
Dan:
Thanks again Kirby, continued success with Our Napoleon in Rags!
Kirby:
This was fun, Dan, thank you. Peace--
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