Johnny America

Short In­ter­view with a La­con­ic Author

by

Illustration of a hand writing upside-down with a fountain pen

In­ter­view­er: Thank you for agree­ing to this. I know you give few interviews.

Au­thor: Sel­dom asked to.

In­ter­view­er: Let’s get right in­to it, then. Your work has been var­i­ous­ly de­scribed as ob­scure and dif­fi­cult, al­so su­per­fi­cial, am­a­teur­ish, dilet­tan­tish, con­sol­ing, in­spired, pro­found, provoca­tive, hu­mor­less, and wit­ty. How would you de­scribe your work?

Au­thor: Wide­ly ignored.

In­ter­view­er: That’s it? Two words?

Au­thor: Yes. That’s one word.

In­ter­view­er: I see this is go­ing to be a chal­lenge. Very well. Your work has been called both mod­ern and post-mod­ern. How do you clas­si­fy what you write? 

Au­thor: Con­tem­po­rary Amer­i­can literature.

In­ter­view­er: Very amus­ing. So, what do you most en­joy writ­ing on?

Au­thor: An old door held up by a cou­ple of fil­ing cabinets.

In­ter­view­er: I meant com­put­er or ball point, lined pa­per or plain, pen­cil and le­gal pad.

Au­thor: Foun­tain pen. 

In­ter­view­er: Re­al­ly?

Au­thor: My chief link with tradition. 

In­ter­view­er: Okay. This re­al­ly is go­ing to be dif­fi­cult.… Your on­ly nov­el won a prize. Why hasn’t there been a second?

Au­thor: Maybe there is.

In­ter­view­er: Oh? Un­fin­ished or unpublished?

Au­thor: Un­writ­ten.

In­ter­view­er: I was warned you’re dif­fi­cult. Okay, let me check my notes.… It says here that you’ve al­so won a teach­ing prize? Yes? What would you say is the most im­por­tant qual­i­ty in a teacher?

Au­thor: Re­mem­ber­ing.

In­ter­view­er: Re­mem­ber­ing? Re­mem­ber­ing what? Stu­dents’ names? Lec­ture notes?

Au­thor: That to teach is a tran­si­tive verb.

In­ter­view­er: You teach and you write. Do you do the one to sup­port the other?

Au­thor: I need both.

In­ter­view­er: How so?

Au­thor: Writing’s lone­some; teaching’s an ide­al form of so­cial life.

In­ter­view­er: So­cial life?

Au­thor: Sopho­mores don’t age; they’re al­ways nine­teen. And they have to listen.

In­ter­view­er: So, you like young people?

Au­thor: I’m com­fort­able with them.

In­ter­view­er: With post-adolescents?

Au­thorI’m post-adolescent. 

In­ter­view­er: I was told— and it cer­tain­ly seems true — you’re giv­en to false modesty.

Au­thor: That’s a con­di­tion to which I aspire.

In­ter­view­er: Clever and eva­sive, con­firm­ing what you de­ny. Well then, have you got any ad­vice for as­pir­ing young writers?

Au­thor: I do.

In­ter­view­er: And that is?

Au­thor: Keep your bum on the desk chair.

In­ter­view­er: Okay. I’m go­ing to give up. Just one more ques­tion be­fore I do. You’re prolific.

Au­thor: Pro­lif­ic? For me, writ­ing is most­ly not writing. 

In­ter­view­er: Yet you keep writ­ing. Is that be­cause you love it?

Au­thor: There’s noth­ing I love more than writ­ing — and noth­ing I won’t do to avoid it.

In­ter­view­er: For example?

Au­thor: This interview.

Filed under Fiction on August 14th, 2026

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