55
Oh, I don’t know. Those voices are remorseful, too—they’re voices of regret. In any case, when we write novels, we can’t choose sides. We have to be on everyone’s side—the woman’s, the man’s, the child’s. That’s what I find marvelous about novels, anyway—that they allow us to hear everyone.
in response to
I was surprised to notice, when I reread the book, that at the end of two of the women’s stories, there are counterpoints from men who are close to them. Why give the last word in a woman’s story to a man?
Oh, I don’t know. Those voices are remorseful, too—they’re voices of regret. In any case, when we write novels, we can’t choose sides. We have to be on everyone’s side—the woman’s, the man’s, the child’s. That’s what I find marvelous about novels, anyway—that they allow us to hear everyone.
in response to
I was surprised to notice, when I reread the book, that at the end of two of the women’s stories, there are counterpoints from men who are close to them. Why give the last word in a woman’s story to a man?
57
I suppose that character was a way of exploring what it is when one’s life is one’s art. But her extreme asceticism, the way she rejects whatever doesn’t serve her art—that’s not me at all. I don’t know if it’s obvious from reading that book, but I hate the Cheffe’s intensity—the way, for instance, she astounds the family she works for, laying out meals for them that they have absolutely no way to appreciate, or even to comprehend. And her intensity makes her totally unreliable, or at least means she can’t operate at her highest level. I hate all fanaticism, actually. What I aspire to in my own life is a certain kind of harmony. I don’t subscribe to the idea that we’d write better in a cave, alone—quite the opposite. When it comes to writing, one has to live as much as one can.
responding to
When you wrote The Cheffe (2016, 2019), were you thinking about your own artistic journey?
I suppose that character was a way of exploring what it is when one’s life is one’s art. But her extreme asceticism, the way she rejects whatever doesn’t serve her art—that’s not me at all. I don’t know if it’s obvious from reading that book, but I hate the Cheffe’s intensity—the way, for instance, she astounds the family she works for, laying out meals for them that they have absolutely no way to appreciate, or even to comprehend. And her intensity makes her totally unreliable, or at least means she can’t operate at her highest level. I hate all fanaticism, actually. What I aspire to in my own life is a certain kind of harmony. I don’t subscribe to the idea that we’d write better in a cave, alone—quite the opposite. When it comes to writing, one has to live as much as one can.
responding to
When you wrote The Cheffe (2016, 2019), were you thinking about your own artistic journey?