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Unbound:
Imagination
An Interview
withCynthiaOzick
INTERVIEWER: MARIO MATERASSI
86
CYNTHIA OZICK
AnInterview
87
I had somenotionthat,well,if
publishby thetimeI was twenty-five.
- whichI hadn'treadyet,but
ThomasManndidthiswithBuddenbrooks
simplyknewabout- whynotI? Well,theyearsdraggedon. AndthenI
insixweeks,a shortnovelwhichI completed,
whichwascalledThe
wrote,
Conversion
downbyDoctorowand
ofJohnAndrewSmall. Itwas turned
a numberof others,and endedup lostin London,in theofficeof some
publisher.
M. Was thattheonlycopy?
O. Theremaybe a primitive
carbonofitintheatticofourhouse,butI am
- F ve neverfounditthere.Andit'sjusta notionthatit
notreallycertain
mightbe up there.
M. That'sterrible.
O. It's lost. Anditwas a completedcomicnovel. One ofthecharacters
was an ItalianAmerican.It's lost. Probablywellandgood. Of courseI
haven'treaditin yearsand years- decades. So I haveno idea. WhenI
finished
shortnovel,whichwas reallygoingtobe a
that,I begananother
novella.TherewasaneditorinNewYorknamedOscarDalisa. I readthat
hewasdoinga seriesofshortnovelsinpaperback.Itwas a kindofcontest,
andI thought
thatI wouldwriteforthat Andthatendedup beinga vast
novelcalledTrust.BythenI was thirty-seven
yearsold,andsubstantially
I
Trust
finished
on
the
that
JohnKennedywas assasunpublished.
day
sinated:November22, 1963. I finished
itthatday. AndI hadbegunit
whenI was twenty-nine
yearsold. By thenI was- howold was I? I am
an imbecilein arithmetic.Iwas bornin 1928,how old was I in 1963?
Is thatright?
Thirty-three.
M. Thirty-five.
O. Thirty-five.
O.K. So I wroteitbetweentwenty-nine
and thirty-five.
That'swhenI reallybegan...having
I spentmany,
at
begun twenty-two,
envious,deeply,deeplymiserable
many,manyyearsina long,distressed,
I realizedthatI hadto stopmourning
silence.Andveryrecently
aboutit.
CYNTHIA OZICK
88
a friend
Bob Gottliebsaidthistome- heis myeditorat TheNewYorker,
"You're
old
and a support.He said,
pretty by now,you've gotto quit
quitcomplaining it's over,it'sdone!" Butinsomeway,it's
lamenting,
driveforrecognition
was
neverbeenoveranddone. I thinkthatyouthful
in
me
certain
mean
traits
that
because
it
cured
of
certain
ways,
veryhealthy
I
that
is
an
ailment
am
writersacquire,particularly
incapableof
envy,
now I was thensickwithit
M. That'swhyyoucouldwrite"Envy."
s title,protested
O. Thatwasn'tmytitle!Thatwas NormanPodhoretz'
I
inAmerica."
that
butI eventually
it.
called
"Yiddish
thattitle,
kept
story
He decideditwasaboutenvy,andso hemademecallit"Envy;or,Yiddish
in America."I did,andkeptthetitleafterward.
M. Anyway,itis aboutenvy.
a good title.
O. It is aboutenvy. I saw thepoint,thatitwas rather
road.
So, that'showI becamea writer:a veryrockyandunhappy
You see, I haven'treallyimproved
becausenow,withmynewpointof
view,I'm supposedtoleavethatoutandnotthinkaboutit,nottalkabout
it. ButI seemincapableofnottalkingaboutthosebad years.Maybemy
ownfault,becauseitseemstomethata writer,
especiallyin thissociety,
whodoesn'tscamperaroundandlookforpublication.
..ButI finished
Trust
I'm
and I wentoutintotheworld- and you'reright,I was thirty-five.
I
went
to
the
New
York
Review
to
a
now.
Books
ask
for
remembering
of
reviewtodo andtheywouldn'tletme intotheoffice.Theywouldn'tlet
I washere- theywouldn'tletmecross
mecross- thiswas thethreshold,
thethreshold.
Theyshoutedatmefromacrosstheroom,"No,we haveno
reviews."AndI was sentaway.
And to be thirty-five
so long...Butit
yearsold, to havewritten
Itwasthequestionofabsoluteworship
wasn'tjustthequestionofwriting.
of literature.It was an altar,and I was a sacrificeon thataltar- a selfsacrifice.I didnothing
else. I readall dayinthoseyears,andwroteinthe
andcomehomewith
middleofthenight.I wouldgo tothepubliclibrary
I
I readhistory.
other
read
a tonofbooksaboutevery
criticism,
day.
literary
AnInterview
89
CYNTHIA OZICK
90
AnInterview
91
andconscienceare veryoften
at all, becauseI thinkwriting
nota writer
To me theyare.
contradictory.
too
fromthiscontradiction?
M. Do yousuffer
This,ofcourse,is probably
a
personal question...
O. No, it's notpersonalatall. I thinkitis a veryimportant
question.No,
I don't sufferwithit because I don't feel thatI am undergoingthe
at anytime:I am livingeitherin one worldor in theother
contradiction
world.ButI am notlivinginbothatonce. IfI livedinbothatonce,then
andpulledintwodirections.ButwhenI
ofcourseI wouldfeeldistorted
a shortstory,
as I'm doingnow,whatam
sitat mytableand I'm writing
I thinking
aboutthecadenceof thatsentence,the
about? I'm thinking
nowis a comicstory
resonanceofthosewords- thestoryI'm writing
whichwillhavesomekindofcomic
and howI can makejuxtapositions
You know,Puck: "whatfools,thesemortalsbe," whichI
penetration.
guessis whatcomedyis...Thatsoundsverydumb,butanyway...
- andthemoreso
M. No itdoesn't.Whatyousayis extremely
interesting
I disagreewithwhatyou'resaying.
because,tendentially,
in yourexpression.
O. I couldsee youdisagreeing
M. I'm sorry.I hopeyoudon'ttakeitas...
O. No, it's interesting!
because
M. ...lackofrespect.ButI do disagree,thoughveryrespectfully,
be
as
still
it seemsto me thatalthoughwriters
may wild, you say,
they
adhereto a code ofbehaviourin termsoftheirownart.
O. Is thata code ofbehaviour?Is thata code oftheconscience?
thatyouare,youwouldneverwrite
M. Ultimately,
yes. Giventhewriter
in orderto sell.
CYNTHIA OZICK
92
O. Oh, in thatsense.
M. You wouldnevertryto achievean easy effect You would never
sacrificesomething
you feelis essentialto thestorysimplybecause it
or...
be
might difficult,
- I wouldlovetodo that!Wouldn'tI lovetobearich
O. I couldn'tdo that
writer?ButI can'tdo that.
M. I don'tthinkyouwould.
O. I cannotdo it. I don'tknowhowto do it.
M. It's yourconscience.
O. That'sa gift,
that'snota conscience.I reallydon'tbelievethatthereare
hacks.I think
tobe whatwecalla hackandtowritea commercial
bestseller
is a greatgift.I likeit. It's nota literary
consciencethatprevents
mefrom
beingJackieSuzanneandmakinga lotofmoney.I don'tknowhowtodo
it!
M. Butyoudon'twanttotry
. I amverysorry
,I'm reallybeingtoopersonal.
O. No, notat all. No, no- thisis fun.Thisis whatsucha conversation
shouldbe.
Thereis a story
byHenryJamescalled"TheNextTime." Do you
knowthestory?
M. Yes.
O. Do youremember
thewriter'snamein it?
M.No.
O. I can'tremember
hisnameeither.Buthewantstomakea lotofmoney
and he wantsto havea commercialsuccess,so he sellsall hisprinciples
AnInterview
93
downtheriver,andhefailsutterly
becausehewritesa masterpiece.And
thenhe says,"Well,nexttimeI'll reallywritea piece ofjunk." Andhe
worksveryhard,he writesas badlyas possible- alas, anothermasterwork!
M. Thatwas rather
autobiographical.
O. Yes, absolutely.Butthatworksinreverse,
becausehackwriters
also
tobecomeserious.I happentohavea friend
whowantsverymuch
struggle
tobe a seriousliterary
writer.Yet,nexttimeshewillwriteanother
piece
ofcommercial
historical
fiction
andshewillcleanup,makemoney.Every
timeshehasa commercial
success.Thenexttimeshehopestobe serious
andliterary,
and itneverworks.So, thatstorycan be written
in reverse.
ofconscienceorliterary
No, I don'tthinkit's a matter
principle
thatI can'tmakemoney!
M. Let's leavethemonetary
aspectofitasideandgobacktothelargerissue
we werepursuing.Whenyousaythatyoucan separatewhatyouareas a
Jewfromwhatyouareas a writer,
froma practicalpointof view I can
theseparation.ButI thinktheremustbe an underlying
understand
unity
thatdetermines
yourchoices.
O. I'll tellyouwhyI thinknot. Becausewhenwe sitacrossa table...I've
hada goodupbringing,
andI ama responsible
a
person.IfI werewriting
andI weresitting
acrossthistable,I mightfindsomereasonto do
story,
a villainousact. I might
seizea knife,
anddo someviolencetoyou,oryou
tome. Thisis notgoingtohappenbetweenusbecausewe arelivinginthe
realworldnow,butin theworldof fictionI'm notresponsible.WhatI
meanto say is thattheresponsibility
thatwe all haveas rationalhuman
beingsin societydoesn'tapplyin fiction.
M. Butyouhavea responsibility
towardthepiece youarewriting!And
thatis overriding.
O. Whatis thenatureofthatresponsibility?
WhatI meanis...
CYNTHIA OZICK
94
M. Yourtaste,forone thing...
O. Taste. ButI'm talkingabouttheconductofthecharacters.You enter
a story.I mean,youhave
into,veryoften,
pureevil,whenyouarewriting
toenterintoeverycharacter,
andyoudo havevillains,andyoureallyhave
toentertheirminds.Atthetimeofthewriting
becomea
younecessarily
in
the
realm
of
other
would
life,you
personwhom,
responsible
regardas
wickedandvillainous.Andthat'swhythereis a separation.I couldnot
in myownperson.
actlikemanyofmycharacters
in youreyes?
M. Is thisan important
criterion
O. I thinkit'sveryimportant.
WhenI foundoutthatSadatwas a novelist,
wrotea novel,I was sweptaway. Therewas sometalkat one pointthat
Sadat's novelwas goingtobe translated
fromArabicandpublishedhere.
It neverhappened.I was burning
toreadthatnovel,becauseI thinkthat
thesepeoplewhoplayoutonthestageoftheworldtheirfantasies
arevery
that
should
confine
the
verydangerous, they
playingouttonovels.After
andactuallywrotenovels.
all,Goebbelswas an expressionist
playwright,
As I thinkaboutthat,I havetobelieveit's a good thingthatthereis the
I described,
atleastformostwriters.
O.K., Sadatdida goodact,
separation
butbeforehe dida good acthe started
a warthatkilledhisownbrother.
Writersare wildpeople. And if therewereno separationbetweenthe
writer
andtheperson,theworldwouldbe moreofa junglethanitis.
M. I agreewiththat,thoughof coursenotonlywriters
are wildpeople.
Years ago, I heardSingersay thesame thing,"WhenI write,I'm nota
Jew." He was speakingat theB'nai Jeshurun
on theWest
congregation,
Side. The audience wantedhimto say thathe was a Jewall thetime;
insteadhesaidexactlywhatyousaid. Mycontention
is simplythat,inmy
thatinforms
one's lifeintermsofbehaviour,
in terms
view,themorality
ofhonestytoone's principles,
carriesoverinone's profession,
whenthe
inmorality
is directed
towardsomething
different,
consistency
something
imaginary.
AnInterview
95
CYNTHIA OZICK
96
O. Yes.
M. And therefore
thisintrudesupon,or entersin conflictwith,your
as
a
honesty person?
I amutterly
O. Yes. Right Becauseinfiction
reckless,andmybehaviour
thecharacters
is utterly
reckless,wild. Andthereis no break.
through
And that'sthejoy of writing
fiction.It's therelentlessly
and
I
unbound
which
the
bliss
of
is, guess,
imagination
recklessly
writing
tonothing
andnoone,andyoucangetawaywith
fiction.I amresponsible
because it's all madeup, it's all in yourhead. Andwhenit's
anything
ifit turnsoutto be anything
neara workof art,thereis that
completed,
further
satisfaction.But you haven'tharmeda soul. Actually,I don't
knowwhether
booksharmpeople. I thinkbookscan improvepeople. I
whenI readGeorgeEliot,becauseI thinkshe is a
alwaysfeelimproved
- or very
writerwho doesn'timagineanything
againstherconscience
littleagainstherconscience.Or ifshedoes,it's to theendofexpressing
herconscience.
ButI imaginethingsagainstmyconscience.I don'tthink
Potok
heis a unified
imaginesthings
againsthisconscience.I think
person.Ido
thinkhe has thiskindof unityof conscienceas a humanbeingand as a
writer.
Ithink
heistintintegervitaescelerisquepurus
individual
thatHorace
talksabout.I think
thatthepurposeofhiswriting
is toshowsucha person.
AndthepurposeofGeorgeEliot's writing
is toshowsucha person.The
of
Jane
Austen's
is
to
show
suchaperson.Butsomething
purpose
writing
in me letsloose- maybemywriting
seemsverytametoyou,maybemy
feelingsas expressedtoyounowseemexaggerated
givenwhat'sactually
on thepage. Thatmaybe,andifthat'strue,thenitmaybe thatmysense
ofconscienceis so strict
thatwhenI feelI'm flyingawayfromitI don't
far.
That
itfeelsas ifI'm flying
far
reallygo very
maybe. But,internally,
enough.
M. Butifyoudo feelthatyouaregoingawayfromit,thedistancedoesn't
matter.It's thefirststepthatmatters.
O. Yes. Exactly.
AnInterview
97
is thatwhenitcomestoart,thereis nofirst
M. Whereasmycontention
step
byitsown
stepis intoa realmthatis so strictly
regulated
"away." Thefirst
laws, thatby adheringto theselaws (which,as a writer,you respect,
becauseyou madethem,even thoughyou mayneverhave formulated
individual
thatyouareoutside
themconsciously),
youarestilltheintegral
thatrealm.
thatyoubringthisup! I heldthisidea whenI was
O. How interesting
yearsoldandwas writing
myMaster'sthesis,andI expressed
twenty-one
orthe
thatI calledtheTheoryofParable,wherethefiction,
itinsomething
with
own
who
was
a
was
a
universe
its
laws.
neoteacher,
My
parable,
Thomistand on whomI was goingto base thisfirstbook,was a South
American
RomanCatholic.InmyabortednovelI calledhimCaritas- and
hisrealnamewas Vivas,whichis also a rather
symbolicname.So, I once
didbelievethis.
M. You don'tanymore?
O. I don'tthinkso.
moreand morenotto thinkmetaActually,I thinkI'm trying
aboutwhatis writing,
whatis literature,
becausewhenyouare
physically
- as I am rightnow- oftheactualstruggle,
in themiddle
youdon'tfeel
feel
like
likeyou'remakingtheories,
sentences.
And
you
you'rewriting
is withthewordsof thesinglesentence,and how that
thatthestruggle
sentenceemergesfromthesentencebefore,or wherethenextone will
comefrom.Itdoesnotfeelanydeeperthanthat Thoughthisis a struggle
enough,and in someway includestheother.But noton theconscious
level.
n.
M. Whatprompted
youtowriteTheMessiahofStockholm!
O. We didn'ttalkaboutthisthelasttime?
M. No, we didn't.
CYNTHIA OZICK
98
foreightdays,and I hada
O. Oh,right.I was in Sweden,in Stockholm,
the
who
me
Ciceronethere guided through literary
Actually,
community.
ofTheCannibalGalaxy. I was
itwas on theoccasionofthepublication
andso on- andinone fellswoop,inone
takentolunchbythepublisher,
I
week,andin theintensest
way,I mettheSwedishliterary
community.
I
later
realized
that
are
was sweptawaybythem,
because...well,
they very
muchliketheFrenchliterary
community.
Theyhavethesameideas,and
theyhavethesameabilitytowearmanyhats,so thata Swedishacademic
inthenewspaper,
andalsopublishpoetry
willalsobea newspaper
reviewer,
- thesame
and also siton theAcademy,and also teachat theuniversity
likeyou!
M. Is thisa phenomenon
youdon'tfindin thiscountry?
O. No, youdon't. People aresortofstuckinone profession.Ifa manis
an academic,he will neverbe doingall thethingsyou are doing- very
rarely.
M. Buttheydo writeforthemagazines.
- whatwas
O. Well,it's notthesameway...So, to answeryourquestion
thegerm,whatinspiredTheMessiahofStockholm.An eightdaytripto
in whichI was immersedin theliterary
Stockholm,
world,and during
whichtimeI heardthatBrunoSchultz'smanuscript,
TheMessiah,had
inStockholm.Itwas merelya rumor,
surfaced
butas soonas I heardit,it
was a stimulusto theimagination.
M. Whenwas this?
I think,
O.It was 1984.Yes, thefall- October,
of1984.After
thatwewent
I
to Londonand we spenta weekthere couldbarelywaitto getoutof
I thought
Londonandgo hometomydesktogettostartthis...
itwas going
tobe a shortstorythatwouldtakeme twoweeks,anditturned
outtobe
whichtookabouta yearanda quarter
a muchmorecomplexthing,
towrite.
I neverexpectedittobe a novel- it'sa shortnovel,butit'sreallya novel.
Thatwas thebeginning
ofit. Itbegantrulywitha triptoStockholm,
and
AnInterview
99
CYNTHIA OZICK
100
had
hearingin thisunlikelyplace thatthisPolish-Jewishmanuscript
in
the
North
surfaced
country...
rumor...
unfounded
M. It was a completely
O. Totallyunfounded.
cameup withthisrumor,
so thatyoucouldpickit
M. Itlookslikedestiny
and
write
The
Messiah
Stockholm.
of
up
O. So itseemed.Except,I heardlastyearthatJerzy
Ficowski,who's the
biographerof Schultz- there'snow a secondrumor,fromhim,that,
themanuscript.
indeed,he maybe on thewayto finding
M. Goodness!
O. Thiswas toldtome- andI couldn'tbelieveit,because...Isitgoingto
be true? Since then,therehas been silence;and I'm just waitingwith
almosta desperation,
to findoutwhether
thiswillhappen...
M. How wouldyoufeel,ifthemanuscript
surfaced?
O. I thinkI wouldfeelliketheLordGod CreatorwhenHe says,Let there
- andtherewas light.I wouldfeelas ifmyinvention
be light
hadcome
true.
inyourinvention,
M. Although,
oneneverknowswhether
themanuscript
is apocryphal
orgenuine.Buttheintimation
is thatitis notreal.
O. Yes, right It's notresolved. I simplyleave thatto thereader. I
itin layerafterlayerafterlayer,so thatyoucan makea case
obfuscated
eitherway. You can make a logical case, you can traceit to either
conclusion.In fact,thatbookin a sensehas twoendings,ifyoubelieve
Adelaattheend,oryoucansortofgo withtheflowofthebookandassume
offorgers,
thatitis false,thatitis an invention
withthecollaboration
of
BecauseLarsis himself
a forger.He's
animaginary...whoisalsoaforger.
AnInterview
101
102
CYNTHIA OZICK
O. Well,actuallyI've beenveryflattered
bysomeSwedeswhosaid,You
musthave lived in Stockholma yearat least...Butthathappened,you
know,withTheCannibalGalaxy. I didtheJewishquarterofParisfrom
knowinga littlebitwhattheold East Side was likein New York- and
basicallyfrommapsandguidebooks.WhenI didtheMaraisinParis,I did
thatwitha map and a guidebook.WhenI did theinsideof theMuse
I didthatalso froma guidebook.I guessit's as Tolstoysaid:
Carnavalet,
ifyou'veseena street
battle,youcan visualizea war. Andwhichwriter
said- I don'tknowifitwas Tolstoyalso- somebodysaid thatifyou're
walkingby a doorwayand yousee a domesticscene,it's enough. And
then,fromyourown experienceand yourown life,because of the
of thesubstratum
of civilization,
universality
you can extrapolate.So,
I
is
more
than
wrote
a
eightdays
enough.
story,theone called"Rosa,"
whichis aboutFlorida,andpeoplehavesaid,Well,youmustknowMiami
andI've neverbeenback. One night I
verywell. I was thereone night,
stayedina hotel,andleftearlythenextmorning.So, itwas not24 hours,
it was maybeeighthours. And also thestory"At Fumicaro,"about
intothe
Bellagio- thatwas also eightdays. Butthatwas deepsaturation
muchtimedo youneedforintensity
togivean
lake,themountains...How
is bydefinition
so antenna-like...
experience?Intensity
M. Butyou'vegotto havewhatJamescalls "thepainter'seye."
O. Yes,rightI don'tknowwhether
it'stheeye,orsomekindof...the
pores
theearsget open,theporesin theeye, theporesin thefingertips,
Itisn'tonlytheeye. It's thewholebeing.Particularly
when
everything.
in
a
are
when
to
Then
you
foreignplace,
you'reopen experience.
you
becomelikea child.Itwon'tnecessarily
But
happeninyourhometerrain.
outandputhiminanother
inanother
justliftthewriter
city,particularly
- and you'reshutoff,and thenyou have to use all theother
language
sensesasidefromtheone thatcomestoyoufromcognition.Thenall the
or in a wayanti-cognitive,
sensescomeintoplay.
a-cognitive,
M. That'sverytrue.WhydidyoudedicatethebooktoPhilipRoth?
O. Thebookis dedicatedtoPhilipRothnotbecauseofTheGhostWriter,
AnInterview
103
CYNTHIA OZICK
104
andcertainly
will,againstmybeliefinitspossibility,
againstanyrational
I begantowriteit I did
sensethatthatwas whatshouldbe done,suddenly
tothe
notimmerse
myselfintoSchultzatall. In fact,fromthebeginning
I neverwentnear
endI keptas farawayas possiblefromSchultz'swriting.
matter
tofindas muchbiographical
as I could
it.WhatI didwastostruggle
in
aboutSchultz,whichat thatpointwas one paragraph one of thetwo
undertheSign
paperbackSchultzvolumesthatwereavailable,Sanitorium
Each
and
The
Street
Crocodiles.
of
those
the
books,orone
of
of Hourglass
whichI readagainand
ofthem,I don'trecallnow,hada smallparagraph
on Schultz'sbiography.I went
againand again. I had no information
andhe
finallytoa man,a PolishJewwhois a masterofPolishliterature,
which
his
did
for
me
of
me
a
translation
of
Ficowski's
daughter
gave
part
- I wouldsay,aboutfourpages. Thathelpedsome
matter
biographical
more.I gotsomeviewsonit,I learnedaboutthemarriage
toJosephine
thatdidn'tcomeoff.So I hadvery,verylittlebiographical
themarriage
material.ThatI readobsessivelyagainandagain,andI squeezedwhatI
could fromit But thetextof thenovels themselves,
of the fictions
fora year.
themselves,
nothing
M. Butyouhadreadthembefore?
O. Oh yes.
M. ItseemstomethatSchultz'sproseis so catching.In a sense,it's like
HenryJames'sprose:themoment
youstart
readinghim,yougetthatkind
ofrhythm...
O. Butit's less catchingthanHenryJames,I think,
becauseitis so dense
thatI don'tthinkthatanybody...
AndI didn'tpullitoff,actually.I didn't.
That'snotSchultz.
M. True,it's notSchultz.But..
O. I justmusttellyouthis.It was a kindofsurprise,
a kindofrapturous,
I
in
in
because
did
that
one
a
mysticalsurprise,
night, veryslowwriting.
I didthatwholesectioninone night,
without
knowingwhatI was doing.
AnInterview
105
Without
whereitwascomingfrom
,orwhatitmeantLater,with
knowing
- orat least,I madean
therationalsideofthebrain,I thinkI understood
Butwhatitmeantatthetime,I havenoidea. I hadnoidea.
interpretation.
M. You mean,the whole thingabout the "Messiah," the big flying
- all thatcameto youas a...
machine
O. ...as a vision,one night I haven'thadthatexperiencefora while.
M. Had youeverhada similarexperiencebefore?
in a newthingI've justfinished,
I did. A scene,one scene,
O. Recently,
whichcame tome as ifitwerea birdto thehand,given,whollygiven...
M. Butthatwas thefirsttime.
timethateverhappened?No. I think
O. Thefirst
thathappensveryoften.
Notveryoften,butit's givento writers,
to haveiton occasion. No, that
wasnotthefirst
timeforthatkindofvisionary
flash...That'swhenwriting
- whenthewriter
takes
off
and
becomes
the
really
magic,beyond writer
feelslikea vesselforsomething
thatsomebodyelse is writing.
M. You havehadthatfeeling?
O. Yes. Not often.Mostof it,I meanninety-nine
pointnineninenine
is drudgery,
andnofaithinit- andloathing
it Yes. Butthatnight
percent
I didn'tloathit I wasn'tlovingiteither,
I wasneither
lovingnorloathing,
I was simplytaking
dictation.
NotfromSchultz.BecauseI knewitwasn't
Schultz.
M. How did youknowitwasn'tSchultz?
O. Because I knewit wasn'tSchultz. I also knewthatit mightnotbe
I mustn'tfora momentthinkthat
Schultz:ifthisis a forgedmanuscript,
I'm getting
dictation
fromSchultz.So whatam I takingdictation
from?
CYNTHIA OZICK
106
M. Schultzmighthavebeenplaying...
O. Mighthavebeenplaying? But I didn'tfeelit was Schultzthatwas
dictating.I feltthatitwas perhapsthevoiceofthestory,speakingin its
it. Therewas
ownvoice,without
it,orfabricate
myhavingtomanufacture
in
nofabrication,
andthat'sthevoiceofthestory.Once a whilethereflies
intothewriter's
headorhandsucha moment
whenthenarrative
speaksout
itsorganicand,ina way,orgasmicsoul. That'swhentheprosewriter
is
the
from
writer.
about
indistinguishable
poetry
Actually,
myfeeling
prose
is thatitmustbe written
as ifitwerepoetry.I won'tmakea distinction
in termsof genre,you mustmake a
oh, surely,in termsof rhythm,
distinction.
Butthetypeofcraft,
thetypeofpower,thetypeofpassion,
is thesame.
M. The source...
O. The source. Andsomeoftheinstruments.
M. Butletme moveon to another
questionortwo.
O. Actually,I thinkyoucoveredtheverylargeones.
M. MaybeI couldjust attachthistapemachineto you fortwenty-four
hours...
O. Like one of thoseheartmonitors
youwalkaroundwith...
M. That'sright.I wouldbe thericher
forit.I haveonemorequestion:why
does Adelahavea child,at theend? I havemyownlittletheory
aboutit,
butI'd liketohearyouon this.
O. An interesting
question.I don'tknow. Whydoes she?
M. Areyouaskingme!
AnInterview
107
CYNTHIA OZICK
108
O. ...beliefin herstory.
ofauthenticity,
ofauthority.
Thatwas my
M. Well,a greater
possibility
feeling.
Itsoundsrighttome. I acceptyour
O. Yes, that'strue.That's wonderful.
theory.
I'd liketoaskyou.WhytheellipsisbetweenwhenLars
M. Oneotherthing
leaveshisfoster
home,andwhenhehasalreadyadoptedBrunoSchultzas
a father?For somereasonyoudidn'tinvestigate...
O. ...thetimein between.
M. No,justwhenhe appropriated
Schultzas a father.Whythatellipsis?
O. BecauseI didn'twanttogivea detailedbiography,
of
chronologically,
I
howthispersoncame tobe. wantedto showhisappearance.
M. A kindofparthenogenesis.
O. Excuseme? Oh,yes,ofcourse.Itis a parthenogenesis,
that'sright
hedoesgivebirth
tohimself.Andthiskindofthingyoucan'treallyshow.
It's a psychological
facts.So Lars
magicmoment.One can'tdo without
in inan ambiguousway. It's a saintlyacttorescuea child. It
is brought
was also a mercenary
act,becausethepersondidgetpaid forit. So in a
sensehisrealbirth
intoSwedenis ambiguous,
thisway. Thenhisrescuers
arealso ambiguous:theyhaverescuedhim,theyarebringing
himup,and
in
he
doesn't
fit
that
don't
like
him.
And
so
he
runsaway
yet
family.They
to makehimself.At thatpointI skipped,because themomentof the
- infact,youseehimmakinghimself
intohisfather's
makingwasimplicit
soneverytimehewritesa reviewandhegoesunderthequilt,andthatselfcreationoccurs.Whatwe don'tsee is thefirst
time,andhowhe cameto
it. But,in fact,we see itrepetitively
and
again
again,becauseeverytime
- it'san amnioticfluid
hegoes underthequilt,it's likean underseathing
thathe enters...
AnInterview
109
M. Andtheegg.
- theegg. It's an amnioticfluidthatheenters,
O. Precisely
andhe comes
born
into
the
son
of
Bruno
into
Bruno
Schultz's
reborn,
Schultz,
freshly
up
I
think
it
was
to
show
the
first
as
So
didn't
time, longas
necessary
genes.
I haveitthere.It wouldhavebeenperhaps...from
sixteenwhenhe left- I saidheworked
I thinkI didgivesomefacts,I don'tremember
exactly
in a newspaper,
he workedhiswayup,andso on. So it's interesting
that
fromthebeginning,
becausehebeganina rather
theendis nottoodifferent
mediocreway,on a newspaper,
andhe endsat thetop,butina mediocre
is hisend.
way. In hisbeginning
him
thatDr. Eklundwas theone whobrought
M. Is thereanypossibility
in?
O. I don'tthinkso. I thinkDr. Eklundhimselfis a Jewishrefugeefrom
notto be.
wherever.Heidi also is a Jewishrefugeewho is pretending
- I saw that
Actually,in StockholmI meta manwho was a bookseller
store,whichwas notas shadowyas Heidi's butI didsee thatstore,andI
saw themanwho ranit,a manfromGermanywho claimedhe was a
thathe was anti-Hitler
Germanwhodidn'twanttolive inGermany,
and
he'd cometoliveup there.He also hada wall ofJudaica,whichhe was
interested
deniedanyJewishidentity.
Andthatwas
in;buthe absolutely
whoguidedme said,No, no,
Heidi,thatbecameHeidi. Now myfriends
thismanis nota Jewish
he's onlya Germanwhowantedtogetout
refugee,
ofGermany.He didn'twantto live thereunderHitler.
M. Butyoufeltthathe was a Jew.
O. My suspicionwas thathe was a hiddenJew. AndI thinkthesameof
Heidi. OfcourseI havegivenso manyclues- whenHeidisaysshethrew
foodoverthefence,butshe soundslikesheknewtoo much.
M. WhywouldshehavehiddenherJewishidentity?
andonebecomesafraid.In thecentury
O. Well,becauseit's dangerous,
and hid themselves,
of HitlerwhereJewshid themselves
some remain
CYNTHIA OZICK
110
to theordinary...Yes, outofthehabitoffear.
hiddenandcannotreturn
Whereyou'reafraidtodiscloseyouridentity.
Also,youwanttoescapeit,
becauseyouwantverymuchtoentertheworldoffreedom,
whereyoucan
andnotreturn
tothischosenness
assumeanother
which,inthis,in
identity
thatpartofthecentury
meantvictimization.
So I think
thismaybe trueof
Heidi.
M. I haveaskedyoua lotofquestions.NowI havetotellyouthatI enjoyed
thebooktremendously.
translating
I was... I'll let youfinishyour
O. Well,I have to tellyouhowgrateful
I
but
have
to
tell
so
here
remarks,
younow, urgently.As we are sitting
I
realize
these
are
not
from
the
outside.
It's
doingthis,
questions
coming
as iftheywerecomingfromtheinsideof myhead- and that'sbecause,
whoknowsthebookbetter
thanthetranslator?
You knowitbetter
thanthe
writer.
M. No, no...
O. I mean,I've translated,
andI knowthatinordertodo itwellyoumust
- I
enterthesoulofthewords,everysingleone. You becomethewriter
I
mean, feeltherearetwoofus: there'sme,andthere'syou,who's also
it.
me,insofaras you'vetranslated
M. I wishthatweretrue!Well,I mustsay thatitwas probablythemost
I everdid. Almostmoredifficult
difficult
translation
thanCall It Sleep.
O. The translator
ofRothsaysthis!
M. Yes. I thinkitwas moredifficult.
I participated
in thebookina way
I've seldomdone.
O. I've hadsuchtranslators,
oneinGermany:I've beentoldby
including
was likethat Actually,
peopleI trust.Andone oftheFrenchtranslators
I metthetwoFrenchtranslators,
andone I knewhadan imagination
and
a senseof language. The otherwas dealingwithinertmatter it was a
to another.
questionofmovingone blockofinertmatter
AnInterview
111
toblockssomehowmakesmethinkofsize,length,
and
M. Thereference
do youhaveanideallengthinmindwhenyoustart
so I ask: Inyourfiction,
new?
something
O. I couldneverwritea bigbookagain,becauseoftheone whichtookso
hugebookagain. Never
long. Itdrainedmeout. I'll neverwriteanother
again.
narratives.
M. So youwriteshorter
O. It's notbychoice. I can'tseemto writea shortstory.Again,whatI
nota novel- andit's a short
wassupposedtobe a shortstory,
just finished
aboutGeorgeEliot,GeorgeLewesandJohnny
it's a story
novel.Actually,
thatshemarried
Crosswas themantwenty
Cross. Johnny
yearsyounger
becausehe died;and
afterGeorgeLewes- whichwas nevera marriage,
themantwenty
thenshemarried
yearsyounger.Andthentheywenton
- theyhad
toVenice,andin themiddleofthehoneymoon
a honeymoon
a hotelon theGrandCanal hejumpedoutofthewindow,andhe hadto
swimin theGrandCanal, and thegondolierssaved him. And nobody
else aboutit. So thisis partofmystory.
knowsanything
M. You mean,nobodyknowswhyhe did it, or nobodyknowswhat
happenedafterwards?
but
O. Theyknowwhathe did,theyknowwhathappenedafterwards,
withthegreatGeorgeEliotas his
nobodyknowswhyon hishoneymoon
- whenitcame to themomentof the
wife- she was sixty,he was forty
the
window
he
went.
Thatwas thescene.
out
honeymoon,
M. Maybeshedumpedhim.
O.No she didn't. She screamed,she shriekedfor help. She shrieked
Save him,save him! That'sthescenethatcame
downat thegondoliers,
tome. That scenegave merealpleasure.I didn'twritethat*thatscene
was givento me. Nobodyknowswhathappened,butnow/ knowwhat
becauseI madeithappen!
happened,
CYNTHIAOZICK
112
AnInterview
113
* The story
appearedinTheNew Yorker,October8, 1990,withthetitle"Putteimesser
Paired"