Tell me about your new novel, The Librarianist. What was the original inspiration, what challenges did it present and how did it evolve?
The story centres on a retired and retiring librarian’s consideration of the events of his lifetime, and what’s left of his future. It was a blurry starting point, more a feeling I was chasing after than any particular tale I wanted to tell. As it turns out, this was a foolhardy way to begin a long-form project: much of the first year’s work was trashed, and the challenges were too numerous and repulsive to recount here. The book evolved slowly and with the sense I was pushing against a rudely steady current.
How did you approach the challenge of writing a protagonist so completely lacking in ego?
It didn’t occur to me at the start of my working on the book that Bob’s personality would pose a problem, but you’re right, it did. In an early draft of the novel, the narrative was laid out in a first-person voice, Bob’s voice; but this was switched to third person in edits because I couldn’t imagine he would have so much to say. In time, I saw that Bob’s function was not to be the star of the show but the still point in the centre of the story, with the events of his life revolving around him as he looks on.
Were libraries important to you as a child, and as a writer, and a parent?
As a child they were important to me, and as a writer they were very important. As a parent they’ve been of no importance at all because my son, like all intelligent children, refuses to kowtow to his father’s need to recreate him in my image. He’s not interested in literature.
Dialogue is one of your strengths. How do you develop a voice?
Well, I’ve been speaking since I was two years old, and there were always lots of people to talk to, so progress was inevitable.
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You’ve said you’re more comfortable writing about violence, which is so prevalent in US society, than sex, which is more sacred. Are you never tempted to return to your native Canada, which seems a bit more sane or safe?
I don’t know about “sacred”. Probably I was discussing the phenomenon of certain stateside readers blanching at an orgy scene but having no reaction at all to depictions of multiple grisly murders. Regarding Canada: I have been tempted to return, yes; and I’m sincerely grateful that the option is there. I’ve been wondering what will change in my life when my son moves out. I may just stay put, because I’m happy in Portland, but it seems to me I’d be a fool not to look around a bit, if I’m free to roam.
Would you say you have a dark sense of humour? How did it develop?
I don’t think of my humour as being fixed in one particular shade, but to be sociable I’ll go ahead and admit it skews dark from time to time. It developed in the usual way: by reading newspapers. It’s only sensible that one’s humour should mirror the times.
How important is it to write a good plot, a page-turner?
Not very important at all – except for the times it is important, in which case it’s very, very important.
What projects are you working on?
After I finished final edits of The Librarianist, I wrote five episodes of a spec television show, which I’ve put on hold owing to the writers’ strike in Hollywood. The show takes place largely on an island in western Canada and is about sloppy criminals, kleptomaniac nuns, runaway speedboats and puppies, and freedom of the press. I’ll get back to it when the strike is over; in the meantime I’m plugging away at another novel. It’s a flabby, godless mess at the moment, but I hope that in time I can build it up to something worthwhile.
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
When I was 20 I went to Dylan Thomas’s home and grave site in Wales. I remember thinking the set decor of his writing room was overdone (balled paper strewn across the desktop, etc) and that his grave was impressive in its modesty. But it was exciting to me, at that impressionable age, to be near the location of the making of the man’s good work.
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The best and worst things about where you live?
The best would be my house, or more specifically my bedroom/office. The worst would be that the ocean is too far away.
What current book, film and podcast would you recommend?
I admired the last couple of Gwendoline Riley books, My Phantoms and First Love, and would recommend either or both to any reader with a nose for (bad) news. I just finally watched Triangle of Sadness and enjoyed it very much. I don’t think I’ve listened to a single podcast yet? If I have, I can’t remember, so I won’t comment on the medium here.
Which public event affected you most?
I’ve never quite recovered from the occurrence of my birth.
The Librarianist by Patrick deWitt is published by Bloomsbury and available now
