Ann Patchett Does an Impression of a Seal

I was both excited and nervous to go hear Ann Patchett speak at Symphony Space last night. I've been a fan of hers ever since I read her gripping novel, Bel Canto, and in anticipation of this talk I had started to read her latest, State of Wonder. I was only halfway through, however, and had heard that the ending was quite sensational. Would she dish out spoilers? I decided the risk was worth it.

 Patchett was one of Time's 100 most influential people of the year, not because of her books, but because of her bookstore, Parnassus. Both bookstores in Nashville, Patchett's home, closed, and as a believer in brick-and-mortar book purveyors she was distressed that residents had only Amazon to rely on. So she opened a small store with a partner, which apparently is doing well. She has written both fiction and non-fiction, and was once the editor of the annual Best American Short Stories collection. She is best known for Bel Canto about a hostage situation in South America and opera (trust me, it all fits together seamlessly in the book) which won both the Orange Prize for great fiction by women and the PEN/Faulkner Award for one of the best works of fiction by a living American author. Her protagonists are almost always women and her readership is generally female, so Ed was pretty outnumbered as we found our seats. "I've spotted at least three other men," I said helpfully. Ed grunted.

Patchett

The presentation kicked off with a reading from State of Wonder by actress Marin Ireland. I'd read the scene the day before and enjoyed hearing it, particularly because Ireland made me realize that parts of it were pretty funny, something I hadn't noticed buried under the tension of the scene. Then Jane Hamilton, author of The Book of Ruth among other books, led Patchett through a conversation. Hamilton wore a loose brown dress and Chaco sandals. Her long hair, streaked with white, looked as though she'd let it air dry, and she didn't appear to be wearing any make-up. She had the kind of sensible, utilitarian style one does not often see in New York. Patchett had her hair back in a simple bun and also did not appear to be wearing any make-up, though her patterned dress, ballet flats, and pink scarf made her appear slightly more stylish. The women are good friends, apparently, and they spoke together with an ease that made me forget sometimes that this was supposed to be an interview. Evidently Patchett read State of Wonder aloud to Hamilton (in its entirety) for feedback before it was published, though Hamilton swears she offered only one or two pieces of criticism and that everything else was already perfect. Alas, within the first five minutes of the talk, Hamilton brought up the ending of the book, and after a bit of hesitation, Patchett launched into an extremely detailed description of exactly what happens and how she decided on these events. Rats. It certainly is sensational, so much so that although the surprise is ruined, I look forward to reading it for myself to see how she gets there.

Hamilton

This was one of the most entertaining author talks I've attended. Not that they are ever dull (well, Michael Ondantje toed the line...), but Patchett is a character. She was almost over-the-top wacky. She was so pleased with Hamilton's questions, each of which she answered with a long, usually hilarious story, that at one point she said, "I feel like you're just throwing me fish. It's like I'm a seal and you're just lobbing me fish after fish." Then she proceeded to sit up in her chair and do a few seal-like barks. During a conversation about chewing on tree bark - trust me, critical in the book - she began to gnaw on the microphone, then pulled away suddenly, muttering that who really knew where the mic had been. Hamilton, for her part, hooted with laughter throughout the hour, and gesticulated so enthusiastically with both hands that sometimes the mic would be suspended several feet away from her mouth as she earnestly waved her hands to make her point. Ann's stories about wanting desperately to be infected with malaria as book research, visiting hospitals and fainting during a c-section she watched, trying to ditch the college students who kept inviting her for drinks when she taught college, interacting with the people of Nashville, and growing up in Texas were hysterical. 

The Q and A was pretty interesting as well. Unlike many authors who talk about characters as though they are real people ("I realized after I'd been writing for a while that James wasn't going to marry Miranda after all, because that just wasn't the kind of person he was, and that he wanted to pull me in another direction), Patchett was very blunt about her process. She outlines the entire plot from start to finish in her head before beginning to write. Once she sits down to type the first sentence, she does not deviate from her original plan. Ever. If she writes a scene that doesn't work, she says she cannot move forward, rather like a
model train that will fall off the track if you don't lay it down just right. Nor is Patchett the type who forces herself to sit at the computer for a set number of hours a day to make writing a routine. She said that in the beginning of a book, 10 or 15 minutes a day are all she can stomach. Gradually, as she picks up steam, she is able to write for longer and longer periods until by the end she's putting in eight hours a day to get it done. She described herself as "a horse that sees the barn...a strong finisher." Regarding inspiration, she does not take notes about interesting things she sees and hears in case she may want to use them in a novel someday. She described herself as a compost heap, in which interesting names, ideas, stories, and faces all go to decompose and mix together, and then books grows out of the mess. I thought this was a pretty great analogy.

One of the most interesting parts of the talk was her explanation about names in the book. She invents a tribe that lives in the jungles of Brazil called the Lakashi, named, of course, for her favorite breakfast cereal (Kashi). She also told the story about the names for some of her characters. Mr Fox, for example, is her lawyer, and Martin Rapp is his partner. The story of Jackie and Barbara Bovender is slightly more involved. Patchett is very involved in the library system in Nashville, and as a one-time-only incentive for donations, she vowed to put the name of the highest bidder into a book (making no promises about the type of character who would be given that name). At the fundraising event, John Irving was sitting on the stage, having just finished speaking to the audience, when the library's speaker reviewed all of the items up for auction. Hearing of Patchett's offer, Irving apparently leapt to his feet, crying, "Don't do it, Ann!" He went on to tell about a time when he did something similar for charity. Family friends of his were the highest bidders and they submitted the name of their 14-year-old daughter, whom Irving had known all his life and adored. He reluctantly named a character for her, but then the character got away from him and, before he knew it, had become a woman of extraordinarily loose morals and a murderess to boot. Apparently the family was not pleased and has not spoken to him since. Patchett's offer was out there, however, and the bidding ended up being locked between Steve and Judy Turner and Jack and Barbara Bovender. Patchett, distressed at the idea of a character named something as dull as Judy Turner, crossed her fingers and sure enough, the Bovenders took the prize. Apparently they are middle aged, short, and round, and so in the book Patchett made them statuesque bohemian surfers from Australia. They were apparently quite pleased.

At the end of the talk, Patchett gave us strict instructions about how to proceed during the book signing. If we wanted her to write simply her signature and the date we were to join the express line, which moved at lightning speed. If we wanted a copy signed for our aunt's birthday, or to tell her a story that would make her cry, or knew her in high school, or wanted to bond with her in any other way, we were to join the standard line. Ed and I were hungry and I did not know Patchett in high school, so we got into the express line and sure enough we were out in five minutes. Patchett smiled at me, made very brief small talk, and then it was over. I get so star-struck when faced with famous people I admire that I never can think of much to stammer at them anyway, so I rather liked the express line option.

I look forward to finishing State of Wonder, even though now I know how it ends, and to visiting Patchett's bookstore Parnassus next time I am in Nashville. I'll read some of her other books, too, while I'm at it, though I'll feel guilty if they end up coming from Amazon.