My new novel?

Well, I think it does play a part in that I deal with a lot of the same themes: religious hypocrisy, narrow-minded subculture and escaping it.  It’s about a girl who grows up in this tiny Indiana town that is run by a preacher/city manager—-they call him the “Rev Man” for Reverend Manager.  It’s basically this tiny little forgotten Indiana town and he has complete control over it. Things get crazier and crazier as he tries to block out secular culture, which is kind of like the reform school I was in. It is the reform school I was in. So when this girl manages to escape, she’s totally unprepared to launch herself into the world. She is just so naïve and ignorant about what the real world is—-it’s kind of the next step after Jesus Land, like, what happens when you leave?

Well, it was so hard for me to even sell this book in the U.S.  My agent had almost given up on it. Counterpoint was the last publisher that he showed it to. Actually, he didn’t even show it to them. He was out having lunch with an editor discussing another book and as an afterthought, he asked this woman where she was from. It just so happened that she was from the Midwest and brought up by missionary parents.  He said, “Well, in that case, I have a writer who grew up under similar circumstances,” and the editor said, “That’s the book I want to read.” And they bought it almost immediately. 

But there was a time there, a very black period, where I said, “I can’t sell this.” However, I felt so strongly about it being a testament to my brother, a tribute to him, a way to immortalize him, that I just wanted it to be published and didn’t care about the money. The fact that it’s done so well is beyond my wildest expectations. It’s a great, great feeling. It’s a very humbling experience. It makes me feel great that people are reading about David all over the world:  in the UK, in Australia, in New Zealand. I get e-mails from everywhere.

Well, they don’t specifically put it in American terms, but I think it has the universally appealing themes of misfit kids, teenage angst, feeling like you are a helpless child and you just want to turn 18 and break free. I still get e-mails about it every day. Some people tell me, “I love David. I feel like I really know him.”

Yeah, it’s weird because he’ll be dead as long as he was alive. 

It’s interesting. When I was writing the book, I was just so in tune with him and his memory. I looked at photographs every day; I read his letters. I really put myself back into the 80s and read my diary. So in that regard, he felt very close… I would dream about him constantly. It was very a beautiful experience because I felt--it sounds strange, but I felt close to him again. I would dream about him and he would be real to me again, but in a comforting way. He would just appear in a dream randomly or it’d be us as kids having an adventure. When I stopped writing the book, I stopped dreaming about him. I am very humbled that this book has done so well and I was able to get his story out there.  

It’s great to just make shit up. [Laughter] It’s a big relief after Jesus Land. It’s so freeing. You can make things so much more dramatic and funnier than they would have been in real life. With nonfiction, you have to be like, All right, I have to dramatize this very mundane detail because it’s important to the book somehow--whereas in fiction, you can take it to the nth degree. So it’s been really fun. I’m just starting to work on it again and I just get in this float-y space where it’s all I think about. In the middle of the night, or when I’m walking Tess-—you just get into this trance where you’re making connections all over and you’re like, I’m going to use that in the book.

Well, this is still the first draft. I’m still in the idea stage. The whole idea of the town just came to me--the history of the town and the reverend. As you’re writing, things layer and they change. It’s a thrilling experience. I’m loving it. Hopefully I can sell it. [Laughter] Hopefully my editors will think it’s as interesting as I do. It’s just really fun. It’s also fun to poke fun at the culture I grew up in. 

I actually have a friend’s manuscript with me now that I’m supposed to blurb—-I’m blurbing a lot of books lately. I’m also reviewing books for the New York Times. 

For short stories, I really love T.C. Boyle and Annie Proulx-—not as passionate about their novels. I like really odd, quirky books. I just read this novel for the New York Times by this French woman who was trained as a psychiatrist and later became a novelist-—it’s called Everyday Life by Lydie Salvayre. It’s this neurotic and paranoid monologue of this middle-aged secretary whose life is upended when a new secretary is hired at her firm. It’s all in her head. It’s just hilarious. I like quirky stuff like that. There’s also this book by Jim Crace called Being Dead, which I adored.  Especially the beginning of Being Dead--it’s just shocking. It’s an amazing conceit. A lot of books, you know, they lose steam along the way or in the middle, but if the conceit is interesting enough, it will pull me along.

I’d talk about changing dirty diapers in the middle of the night and how much I love that, how thrilling it is. Just kidding. You know, it’s funny, I’m a pretty private, quiet person, but this book has forced me to be an activist in one regard and that is regarding New Horizon Youth Ministries, which runs the reform school I went to. I’ve already been on TV actually and there have been newspaper articles written about it.  Also, we started this alumni web site which is basically filled with testimonials against this school. There are thirty or so people talking about the abuse they suffered.  And it’s very empowering. When you’re in a reform school, they take kids as young as 12 at these schools, you feel like you’re a bad kid because you’re still in that stage where adults are always right. You’re used to being a minor and having people in control of you, so when you grow up, and you realize that yes, it actually was a bad place and it still exists and kids are being hurt there now, it’s a powerful experience. I’d probably talk about New Horizons and Christian zealots. I think fundamentalism of any kind is harmful. 

I hope so. I love it here. And I’ve lived everywhere: the Midwest, Miami, Maryland, Los Angeles. I went to school in the Dominican Repulic, I did a semester in Costa Rica, and I lived in Spain for four years, which I loved. Part of the new book will take place in Spain.  But there’s something about San Francisco. It’s progressive, there’s a big writing community, there are a ton of little places like this café-—it’s not all Starbucks and Barnes and Noble stores. It still has its quaint class and independence. And the Grotto is a huge thing. I don’t think I’d be able to find that anywhere else.