Colson Whitehead read at Shaman Drum last night in Ann Arbor, MI. He has a good reading voice, steady, few mis-reads, and doesn't just stare at his book the whole time (though at times had a few of us wondering what was do damn interesting about the ceiling). It was a pretty full house, which he was thankful for - apparently the last time he was here about four years ago, the Red Wings were in the Stanley Cup finals and playing on the same night. Per his memory, there were four people and five crickets in the audience.
He had recently misplaced his marked copy of Apex Hides the Hurt, and so at times had to ad lib while searching for the next spot he wanted to read from.
He began the reading with an extended version of an essay he's written for the New York Times. Apparently it's the 75th Anniversary of the building of the Empire State Building and so the Times asked many writers to write something about it. As he can see the building from his home in Brooklyn, he thought how cool it might be to have an office inside to write in. Then he contemplated how cool, or maybe not so cool, it would be if it was full of authors and their offices.
The essay itself was very funny, commenting on the various types of writers and their stereotypes - from my scribblings (look for the short version of the essay possibly this Sunday) there would be a realist floor, an allegorist floor (where you'd get responses about sentient cows and the like when asking a simple question like what time is it?), the experimental floor (with a sign on the wall stating THIS IS A WALL and a sign on the floor stating THIS IS A FLOOR and just in case you missed it the first time, the signs would be repeated ad infinitum), the critic novelists would be down by the ground level, and whatever decisions they made each day would be strictly enforeced amongst all writers. There'd be a domestic fiction floor as well. Grisham and King and their ilk would have their own floors, and there's be a Sophomore Slump floor (Keep on typing!). Floors 35 through 86 would be the stomping grounds of the Mid-List authors, where one would frequently hear how "it's all about the work" (you may want to take the elevator past these). The Breakout Book Floor is hard to find but apparently very well worth the effort. An alarm would go off about every three hours or so to announce the beginning of a new literary journal and there'd always be people looking for stamps.
Any author who listed their many 'real life' jobs before settling down to 'this writing thing' would be deemed maintenance workers. When the heating system breaks down they'll feed the furnace with MFA thesis' and novels of linked stories - amazing the amount of fuel source here. All of the poets would be in Madison Square Garden (what else is large enough to hold them all). And lastly, lunch used to be a mandatory get together, but once the sub-genre of cafeteria novels started up, that fell by the wayside.
Colson then read from Apex Hides the Hurt for about 20 minutes or so. Maybe a bit longer but it didn't seem long enough to be considered dragging it out by any means.
Questions from the audience included (and these are greatly paraphrased):
Q: There are many bad examples of books about brand names, etc. for example American Psycho. Did you have any of these in mind specifically while writing this novel?
A: No, but he believes that many authors of his generation address marketing and pop culture. This particular book received some genesis when he read an article in the NYT about the naming of Prozac. How they looked for the proper number of syllables and the right prefix and right suffix, etc.
It got him thinking about the various namings that occur - our own names, branding, what others call us, how history affects names of cities and streets, etc.
His typical process is having an absurd proposition and then finding the characters and situation to accomidate them. This book was actually about half done towards the end of spring 2001. After 9/11 he didn't find it very compelling and began writing the essays that form his collection, The Colossus of New York. When he returned to it, he decided he didn't like his protagonist and did much rewriting.
Q: A very specific question about how he came about the story that George Plimpton told in Whitehead's novel, John Henry Days.
A: After much help from the questioner, Whitehead realized that the story was about roasting ducks and what the duck farmers have to do to get the ducks just right. Turns out, much of his writing brings into play some of the odd jobs he's had to perform while being a freelancer.
Q: A gentleman noticed that nearly all of the characters in Apex suffered from sort of sexual unfulfillment and wanted to know if it was intentional.
A: Whitehead agreed that there was some inherent lonliness in many of the characters but didn't really agree that while some of the characters certainly were 'not getting some' that it didn't mean all the characters were 'not getting some.'
Q: From the same gentleman - a noticing of many poetic techniques or phrases - 'road to elevator not taken', some heroic lists, etc. He wanted to know if Whitehead was satirizing language?
A: There are certainly more gags in this book than in past efforts. More of an effort to explore different kinds of comedy. He mentioned this book took six years to write and how odd it is to be out reading and come to one of those lines you've labored over for humor that gets nary a chuckle, but some throwaway line you're certainly not really rooting for might draw a big rumble of laughter.
Q: Wondered if the three novels can be looked at as a trilogy with The Intuitionist being a book that looks at verticality, John Henry Days looking at the horizontal nature of things and than I got lost when he described how Apex would fill out that trilogy.
A: Agreed slightly with the ideas about the first two books, but felt he was still way too close to Apex to be thinking about it in those terms.
Q: From an old acquaintance of his from slightly post-college years. Wanted to know if his own struggles with his name (at the time he was changing from Chip to Colson) led to his writing of this book.
A: His full name is Arch Colson Chip Whitehead. His father's name is also Arch (having legally changed it from Archibald) so he didn't want to go by that, and at the time was feeling that Chip was more of a child's name. Colson seemed like a cool name, not many going by that handle so he began pushing that. Sort of an "I'm 21" statement. And while he likes Arch or Archie now, hell, he's got four books out with Colson on them so he'll stick with it.
Q: A woman asked what he thought of the inverse in terms of these names - not the example of a man naming a town after himself, but a person associated with something (in the book's case, many of the men are Quincy men - graduates of a prestigious college). Does this reduce them in any way?
A: Whitehead thought that question tied in a bit with the three different names that the city in question in the book had been named: Freedom, Winthrop, and New Prospera.
Colson was a very pleasent person to chat with slightly while getting books signed, and I can attest, he does read litblogs.
A great report, Dan. I wish I had been there but, thanks to you, I feel like I was. Thanks!
Posted by: Anne | April 21, 2006 at 07:22 PM
Apex is the next book to be read...after I finish Black Swan Green. Thanks for the recap!
Posted by: Justin | April 23, 2006 at 09:37 AM