Genreville

Charlene Brusso did a terrific Q&A with Caitlín R. Kiernan for this week’s PW. Here are the Qs and As we couldn’t fit into the magazine:

CB: Your writing has been compared to work by H.P. Lovecraft, as well as Shirley Jackson.  Are you comfortable with those comparisons?

CRK: Every author, whether he or she will admit it or not, their ability to write is the sum total of their life experiences and everything they’ve ever read. Everything. It all goes into the pot, consciously or unconsciously. And so I have this long list of authors who made me the author I am, some more than others. This is just reviewers engaging in literary archeology, finding my roots. In the case of Shirley Jackson, I find it especially flattering, as I can think of no writer in whose footsteps I’d rather follow.

CB: George Saltonstall is fictional, but the details of his life, his paintings, and the dark stories behind them, all feel terribly real. Is Saltonstall based on any historic figure (or figures)?

CRK:  Phillip George Saltonstall is an amalgamation of a lot of painters, and a little bit of Poe thrown in, as well. Mostly, I needed him to feel real. There’s a wonderful painter, Michael Zulli, who helped me do this. He actually painted “The Drowning Girl,” and became Saltonstall. He dressed as Saltonstall would have, and we did photos of him in period dress that were then Photoshopped, and all this made Saltonstall so real to me. There was no stranger sensation than holding the painting I’d imagined in my hands, seeing it as a genuine artifact.

CB: What about Eva Canning, the mysterious femme fatale at the center of Imp’s story?

CRK: Eva Canning is likely far too complex to explain here. She’s part of Imp’s haunting. She’s a deadly meme, and she’s also simply another broken person, one who is manipulative, and lost, and… I won’t say too much for fear of giving this or that away. I will say that, in many ways, she’s a nod to Peter Straub’s Ghost Story (with his blessings) and its multi-faced antagonist. It’s like the Kelly Link epigraph at the beginning of the book: “Stories shift their shape.” In fact, that sentence sort of sums up the novel. Stories shift their shape.

If you’re a PW subscriber, check out the rest of the interview here.

In today’s PW we have a great interview that Adam Lipkin conducted with Julianna Baggott about her forthcoming postapocalyptic novel, Pure. Here are the Qs and As that didn’t make it into the magazine:

AL: Pressia, the girl fused to the doll’s head, is a wonderfully complex character, competent and cynical, yet also often naive about her own world. Can you tell us about her genesis?

JB: Without that image of Pressia hiding in the ashen cabinet, there is no novel. She led me into the world and it was through her eyes that I came to see it. Of course, I also needed Partridge, who lives in the rigid order of the Dome. Both of them were essential to tell the full story, and the collision of their lives is the engine driving the narrative. Pressia allowed me to see the beauty in the wreckage; she insisted on it. And, despite everything, she still has hope.

AL: How do you feel about the publicity Pure has received, and about the hype for dystopian literature in general these days?

JB: I’m overwhelmed that Pure, the lives of its characters, and its otherworldly world have captured people’s imaginations. Pressia with her doll-head fist; El Capitan, who’s fused to his brother, forced to carry him for the rest of his life; Bradwell with birds embedded in his back—I had no idea how these characters would affect people. Pressia’s grandfather is missing a leg; his stump is clotted with wires. I grew up near my own grandfather, a double amputee from WWII, and so I lived with that constant reminder of war. What I mean is that, in so many ways, Pure still feels like it’s my own, and as the incredible blurbs have rolled in and the early reader reviews, I’m just beginning to understand the impact Pure is having on readers. Beyond that, I don’t think about genre hype except that I think the rise in interest in dystopian literature is a natural one. People are struggling. They want to read about characters who struggle and who are resilient.

AL: Do you have any other projects in the works?

JB: I’ve handed in Fuse, the second novel in the trilogy, and I’m excited about the wild twists and turns that novel takes, the deeper look at the characters, and the new details of the worlds inside of and outside of the Dome. I’m anxious to dive into the final book in the trilogy, Burn. I imagine that this world will always tempt me. It’s a matter of whether my characters need me, as a storyteller, or not. If they called out to me, I would jump back in—in a heartbeat.

As for other projects, my mind loves ideas—all of that potential. But I’m hesitant to talk about what’s whirling in my head. I like to let it whirl for as long as possible, on its own axis.

For more about Baggott’s work and a glimpse inside her head, see the rest of the interview in today’s issue.