J O N A T H A N L E T H E M :
The McSweeney's Interview --
I N I T S E N T I R E T Y
T H U S F A R .
- - - -
This interview began a few days ago, and very well might conclude today.
If you have
read portions of it, you may skip to the parts you have not yet read. If
you have not
read any of it, you may skip to the parts that seem easiest to read.
Mr. Lethem has made many books, including Gun with Occasional Music, a
scathing
renunciation of Neo-Orthodox Catholicism, and Girl in Landscape, a
reevaluation of
British foreign policy after the Opium War. His new book is Motherless
Brooklyn, a
detective story wherein the protagonist suffers from Tourette's, and
goes on to marry
the young Ladybird Johnson. It is due in stores any minute now, and it
is by most
accounts Lethem's best work yet.
Lethem was born in he United States sometime after WWII. He has brown
hair and
does not wear hats. He is known for his quick wit and even quicker
temper. We are
proud to have Jonathan Lethem as the first subject of these, the
McSweeney's
Interviews.
McSwys:
Many years ago, when she was alive, Gertrude Stein famously said
something
derogatory about Oakland which is often quoted, because it is a famous
quotatation,
which she said at one time. My question therefore is a two parter: 1)
How do you
account for the disproportionately large Hungarian population in
Bridgeport,
Connecticut and 2) How do answer critics who deride you for not dealing
more directly
with subjects such as Oakland, Hungary, and Bridgeport, Connecticut in
your work,
insofar as it is purportedly the work of someone who claims to be an
American?
Lethem:
The Americanist impulse... oh, hell, I'm going to fumble this one, I can
tell. See I'm
from Brooklyn -- I thought I'd made that clear at last. For years I
tried to fudge the fact,
setting my books "no" "where" "in" "particular" (and then frequently
trying to make the
fact of their blandly virtual settings a sort of meta-subject of the
narrative, probably a
cake-and-eat-it-too mistake) while setting my own actual life story in
Gertrude Stein's
famous Oakland. (If you look at a map I can point out where I actually
lived: in the
exact center of the "O," which served simultaneously in the words
"Oakland,"
"Nowhere" and "Roger O. Thornhill.")
It didn't work. I understand that now. So I'm back in Brooklyn. The
point
being, even the most Hungarian of Bridgeportians, with his candles and
his
beret and plateful of blinis (are candles, berets and blinis
characteristic of
Hungarians? I'm sure your fact-checker can handle this for me) knows
more about
being an American than I.
McSwys:
Hmmm. It seems obvious you1re determined to make this difficult. Very
well. My next
question is sure to test the limits of your compliance. Is it again a
two-parter: 1) Has the
buzz surrounding Antonio Banderas's imminent directorial debut ("Crazy
in Alabama,"
Paramount Pictures, November 1999) gotten to you, too? and 2) How many
times a
day do you fall in love with strangers wearing large shoes (and why?)?
Lethem:
1) There's some sort of assonance -- to put it more or less politely --
between
Hungarians in Bridgeport and Banderas in Alabama. You're driving at
something, but I
certainly don't know what it is. I don't think I'm the person to say.
2) When I get off the train and start walking, that's when I feel that
I've got the very
world for my old friend. When summer comes undone. In the
summertime, when you were with me. Lazing on a sunny afternoon. With the
radio on.
Tuning in to the wavelength. Little story about Jack and Diane. Shoes?
Shoes hardly
ever come into it.
2a) I have fallen in love with several Philip Guston paintings wearing
large
shoes, however.
McSyws:
Sigh. I don't see why you can't just cooperate. Whatever. Moving on:
Rei publicae Christianopolitanae
descriptio, J. Valentin
Andreae describes a man who, while in search of the "Land of Peace,"
becomes
shipwrecked on Caphar Salama, an island above which floats the utopian
city of
Christianopolis. In Christianopolis, life and education are shaped
according to
Rosicrucian ideals, attempting to reach a balance between Christian
tradition and
universal knowledge. Now, assuming you're aware of Andreae's work, how
do you
account for the feeling, when embracing a friend of many years, that by
holding this
friend longer than seems normal and longer than they feel is
comfortable, that you are
staving off death?
Lethem:
There's nothing in Andreae to contradict the notion that you *are*
staving off death by
the embrace of your friend: his name is Vic, he drank heavily for years,
he's become a
reasonably successful graphic designer on the ? you guessed it --
internet. I don't
know, actually, how Vic staves off death. Here in the millenium's shadow
we're
staving it off as best we can. In my case, bootleg Dylan cds, e-mail at
three in the
morning, the blackcurrant soda at the
overpriced-but-undeniably-delicious new cafe on
Smith Street, VICTORY. As I said, I don't know how Vic manages it, but
I'm glad
he's still with us. Vic lives in L.A., but were he here I'd probably
segue from the
awkward silence after our protracted embrace by taking him down the
street to
VICTORY and buying him one of those blackcurrant sodas.
I'm sorry -- what was the question? Have you actually *read* my work?
McSwys:
Let's stay on-subject, shall we? Mr. Lethem, you have long been a vocal
critic of the
FBI, and many critics have accused As She Crawled Across the Table of
being a
thinly-veiled attack on the bureau, and Janet Reno in particular. How do
you respond to
such charges, especially in light of your own experiences working in the
intelligence
community, and your status as a person, alive so close to the turning of
a century?
Also: Does rain ever make you feel rat-like? Do find incessant rain,
like that which at
the moment has us hiding and scurrying, defeating or oddly comforting?
Lethem:
I'd like to answer the first part second, and the second part first. Is
that okay? I didn't
sense any particular urgency in the order of the questions -- or am I
missing something?
Well, okay. You refuse to speak. I'll do as I please. First second,
second first, that's
roughly my plan of attack. Speak up if there's a problem. I'll wait a
moment. Speak.
Or forever hold your peace. Ah, then. Well, here goes. The second, the
question about
the rain, rats, all that. So: the rain. When the rain comes I run and
hide my head, I
might as well be dead when the rain comes. When the sun shines -- now
that's another
story altogether. Actually, it's then that I feel rat-like. A nice plump
rat sunning itself on
Commons lawn at a pretty little New England college, thinking about
bolting and
running across the shoe of a kid who's just now slinking out of the
school
psychiatrist's office -- the psychiatrist is named Horst and he wears
sandals. Though
he's in his forties, Horst drinks the vanilla milkshakes they sell at
the little snack bar
behind commons, taking them up to his office where he sits and counsels
eighteen
year-olds against participating in the rampant cocaine use taking place
nightly in the
college's dormitories. He ardently sucks the last drops out of the
bottom of the
wax-paper milkshake containers, never leaving more than a trace, a thin
film at the
bottom of the cup. Rats notice things like that.
Janet Reno, sir, isn't in the FBI. She's the Surgeon General.
McSwys:
Must we quibble?
Lethem:
We must not.
McSwys:
You know, you have wonderful teeth.
Lethem:
Thank you.
McSwys:
It has been said that life is a breeze if you have great teeth.
Lethem:
Actually, the quote is, "Life is nothing without great teeth."
McSwys:
Ah, yes.
Lethem:
Edmund White, from The Beautiful Room Is Empty.
McSwys:
White? No, it was Wilson, Edmund -- Patriotic Gore.
Lethem:
No, I'm pretty sure it was White.
McSwys:
Wilson.
Lethem:
White.
McSwys:
Wilson.
Lethem:
White.
McSwys:
Bacon.
Lethem:
White.
McSwys:
Pound.
Lethem:
White.
McSwys:
Iacocca.
Lethem:
Oh wait, maybe it was Iacocca.
McSwys:
Yes, it was. From I Gotta Tell You: Speeches of Lee Iacocca.
Lethem:
Good book.
McSwys:
Great book.
McSwys:
Tell me, do you have children?
Lethem:
No.
McSwys:
What do you fear most for them?
Lethem:
If you've never had children yourself you could never understand my
reply.
McSwys:
Is that some kind of riddle? Mr. Lethem, why do you insist on being so
meandering
and elusive? All we're trying to do here is conduct a straightforward
interview to try to
interest people in your FBI-hating work, and you persist in making it
difficult. Why is
that, Lethem?
Lethem:
Dear Janet McSweeno,
I want to tell you a little story, as you stand there glowering at the
my
authorial barricades with your barracudas or bazookas or whatever
they're
called full of nerve gas and inflammatory interviewing devices. And
while I tell you this
little story I want you to remember the children who stand in here with
me, all the
humble innocent little children I've created in my various books,
children who never
did anything to deserve the pain you're about to inflict on them, whose
only crime was
that they dared to exist.
The story happened to me today: I was walking down Bergen Street I saw a
tiny little old woman, a brown woman, perhaps Domican or Puerto Rican.
She pushed
a shopping cart ahead of her and the shopping cart was nearly taller
than she was. She
wore a tee-shirt -- perhaps you're familiar with this trend: tiny old
poor people in
extremely new T-shirts, often worn over long-sleeve shirts? -- and the
T-shirt reached
almost to the tops of her shoes. I was watching her from the back. And
here's the
point: the text on the back of the little old lady's T-shirt was:
BIGGER, LONGER,
AND UNCUT.
You, sir, are the vile media. You are that T-shirt. I am that old lady.
This will be our last communication.
McSwys:
But we haven't done the neat part yet.
Lethem:
Oh, God. The neat part?
McSwys:
Yeah, it's really neat.
Lethem:
Fine, let's do the neat part.
McSwys:
Great, great. Okay, this is how it works: I give you choices between two
things, and
you --
Lethem:
Choose.
McSwys:
Right, right. Ready?
Lethem:
I am.
McSwys:
Here we go.
Lethem:
Please do.
McSwys:
Here they come.
Lethem:
Yes.
McSwys:
Down the pipe.
Lethem:
Yes.
McSwys:
Or is it "down the pike"?
Lethem:
Please hurry. I have an AOL chat in ten minutes.
McSwys:
Okay. Johnny Bench or Mickey Cochrane?
Lethem:
Is this supposed to make me think of Johnny Cochrane? It does.
McSwys:
Clyde Drexler or Terry Porter?
Lethem:
Here I'm tempted to say Clyde Porter, but there is no Clyde Porter.
McSwys:
Gas or electric?
Lethem:
Yogi Berra in his prime was better than either of them. He's perenially
underestimated because of his public life after retirement -- Ralph
Kiner has the same
problem.
McSwys:
Slow death or sudden?
Lethem:
Sudden.
McSwys:
White or off-white?
Lethem:
White ceiling, off-white walls.
McSwys:
J.R.R. Tolkien or Frank Herbert?
Lethem:
Mervyn Peake, truly and forever. Make mine Mervyn. I'm not kidding about
this. Love
the guy.
McSwys:
"I want to die" or "I want to kill you"?
Lethem:
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you."
"I want to mmmhhhhnnngg."
"I'm sorry, I just can't make out what you're saying."
McSwys:
Men dressing as women, or women as men?
Lethem:
Indeed, on many a moonless night.
McSwys:
Men on Mars, or colonies on the moon?
Lethem:
Men dressing as women. Mars dressing in verdant green. The moon going
home alone.
McSwys:
John Adams or John Quincy Adams?
Lethem:
It seems to me John Quincy Adams gives you everything John Adams gives
you plus a
little something extra in the way of Quincy.
McSwys:
Jerry Brown or Jacques Barzaghi?
Lethem:
That's apples and oranges. Like 'em both. Apples and oranges I mean.
McSwys:
Crunchy cookies, or soft?
Lethem:
Crunchy.
McSwys:
Panda or red panda?
Lethem:
This is torture.
McSwys:
Cameos by Elvis Costello, or cameos by Jonathan Richman?
Lethem:
Why can't Jonathan Richman star in a movie? I see him as the manager of
a
Negro League baseball team. Or captain of a small ship which runs
aground on a
Caribbean Island. Or kindly warden of a droll prison. He definitely
ought to be
surrounded by dark faces. Is this a racist comment? (Have your fact
checker look into
this, please.)
McSwys:
Oppenheimer or Sakharov?
Lethem:
As well ask: Enrico Fermi or Yvgeny Zamyatin?
McSwys:
Duty or obligation?
Lethem:
I've always held that these were redundant, and ought to be conflated:
dublgation, or obty, something like that.
Lethem:
I've made a poem out of the next five questions. It's called The Flow of
Blood.
The Flow Of Blood
The flow of blood, over pictures of dead relatives
near walls made of stone, where water flows over smooth rocks.
Black actors playing gang members, women playing prostitutes:
neither of these concerns David Ogden Steirs, who has gonorrhea.
He sees
A light at the end of the pier.
(I couldn't find a place for the phrase "hacking cough". But every great
poem has a
flaw in it -- I just read about this in Harper's.)
McSwys:
Wallace Shawn or William?
Lethem:
James Thurber.
McSwys:
Shawn Cassidy or Butch?
Lethem:
James Thurber, James Thurber. Sounds so nice they had to name him twice,
James
Thurber.
McSwys:
Butch Reynolds or Michael Johnson?
Lethem:
Rickey Henderson.
McSwys:
Cleese or Palin?
Lethem:
Palin.
McSwys:
Idle or Jones?
Lethem:
Idle.
McSwys:
And Chapman? Dead or alive?
Lethem:
Let me ask you this: has anyone -- Elvis, Jim Morrison, Jim Carrey,
Graham
Chapman, that lady flier whose name I can't remember -- anyone at *all*
-- every
successfully faked their death? And come back? Ever?
Only Batman. Batman has done this. And that is why he is my hero.
THE END.
[Jonathan Lethem's new book, Motherless Brooklyn, has just been made
available to
buyers of books nationwide. He will be reading from the selfsame text
Friday, Sept 17
at the Barnes & Noble at Astor Place in New York City. Rumor has it that
Keith
Richards and Jon Doe ? and not Chrissie Hynde and Stevie Nicks, as
previously intimated -- will be sitting in on a few numbers, so please
don't miss it.]
Other Lethem readings:
Book Soup in LA, Tuesday Sept 21 at 8.
Powells in Portland Wednesday Sept 22 at 7:30.
Booksmith in San Francisco, Thursday Sept 23 7:00.
Book Passage in Corte Madera, Friday Sept 24, 7:30.
Stacey's in San Francisco, Monday Sept 27, 12:30.
Canterbury in Madison, WI, Tuesday Sept 28 7:30.
Prairie Lights in Iowa City, Wed Sept 29 at 8.
Shaman Drum in Ann Arbor Thursday Sept 30 at 8.
Elliot Bay in Seattle, Friday Oct 1 at 7.
Hungry Mind in Minneapolis Monday Oct 4 at 8.
Somewhere in Washington D.C., Wed Oct 13, time unknown.
Housing Works in NYC Thurs Oct 14, at 7.
BookHampton in East Hampton, Sat Oct 16, time unknown.
Barnes & Noble, Park Slope, Brooklyn, Friday Oct 22, time unknown.
Drawing Center, NYC, Wed Nov 3, time unknown.
Russian Samovar, NYC Tuesday Nov 16, time unknown.
Somewhere Else, Surely, time unknown.
- - - -
Red dot denotes content that is new today.
Black dot denotes newish content.