Seems I’ve Touched a Cultural Nerve

Sarah Manguso, 50, has authored nine books, including collections of poetry, works of nonfiction, short stories, and novels. Noteworthy among her works, her memoir The Two Kinds of Decay (2008), chronicles her battle with a rare autoimmune disease and its rigorous treatments. Another significant piece, Ongoingness: The End of a Diary (2015), delves into her obsessive diary-keeping, earning a spot as a New York Times Book Review editors’ choice. 300 Arguments (2017), a compilation of aphorisms on desire and failure, was heralded as one of the best books of the year by numerous publications. Her novel, Very Cold People (2022), was a finalist for the PEN/Jean Stein award. Her new novel, Liars, examines the dissolution of a marriage. Originally from Massachusetts, Manguso now resides in Los Angeles.

Liars, your second novel, was not the book you expected to write… My next book was supposed to be a period piece set in New England during the 1940s, exploring the nuanced and tortured history of who in America got to be “white” and after how many generations. It was inspired by discovering that my parents, despite appearing white, weren’t initially considered white by the census. I’m the first person in my family born white.

What was your family heritage? My mother’s family is Ashkenazi Jewish; my father’s father might have been a foundling but was raised Italian, and his mother was an Irish immigrant. Teddy Roosevelt once said that southern and eastern Europeans could be white on the census after three generations in America, which I found insane. The history of racial classification in America is complex, and I wanted to write about it in fiction. However, in November 2020, my spouse left me abruptly and without warning. Three or four days later, I started writing, and eventually, Liars came to be.

I don’t think I was really eager to announce myself as a literary writer; the whole thing seemed embarrassing.

You’ve mentioned that Liars is fiction, except for the parts that are true. Did you have concerns about writing something so personal? My biggest concern was ensuring my son wouldn’t grow up to find unwanted details about our family online. When his dad left, my son was eight years old and knew that his dad cheated on me. Beyond that, there’s nothing I wanted to add to the internet. Being a fiction writer allowed me to feel free to write anything. Had I decided to write it as an autobiography, I don’t think I would have felt even slightly free.

You’ve described the book as “a place to put the rage.” Have you been surprised by the response from women recognizing themselves in this story? I found myself checking the Goodreads page for reader responses, which I haven’t done for my other books. It has been both validating and terrifying. Hundreds of readers, within the first week of publication, identified with the experiences detailed in the book, stating it reflected what many women endure. It’s been eye-opening to see that I seem to have touched a prevalent cultural sore spot.

Your books span genres: poetry, memoir, essays, fiction. How do you define yourself as a writer? Or don’t you? Early on, I used to say I was a copy editor, which was my day job. I wasn’t eager to announce myself as a literary writer; it felt embarrassing. People might think it’s odd if you publish books across different genres, but once you have ten books, it shows you’re exploring different facets of writing.

What are you working on next? It’s an erotic novel about ageing, obsession, and freedom.

Is the historical novel still on the back burner? That’s a good question. My editor recently asked me if my next book will be the one they bought, and I had to say no. But I promise to create something nice. I have no idea if I’ll ever write that novel, but I never really know what I’m going to write until I start.

What was the first book you fell in love with? An old edition of Grimm’s & Andersen’s Fairy Tales. Half the book was Grimms’ tales; flipping it over revealed Andersen’s. It’s now in my son’s room.

Those are dark stories for a child – did that color your work? No, growing up in New England gave me a healthy acceptance of the gothic.

Which author do you think is most unfairly underrated? I’m tempted to say “all the women,” but specifically, Colette. She’s underrated among anglophone readers because her name sounds diminutive.

Which modern authors do you read the most? I particularly love Claire Kilroy, Myriam Gurba, Patricia Lockwood, and my good friend Sheila Heti.

Source: The Guardian