An Interview With Steve Almond
We can't help but want to know more about your long-standing crush on your literary hero, Kurt Vonnegut. Do you remember the first Vonnegut book you read? How did it change your perspective on life and writing?
SA: I think the first one was Player Piano, which lead to Cat's Cradle, and Slaughter-House Five. After that, I read all of them, circling back to read SH5 and Cat's Cradle about half a dozen times. Those books! The astonishment I felt in reading them. That it was possible to be outraged and hilarious at the same time, and holy and profane and playful and serious and ecstatic and despairing and plainspoken and poetic—that writing wasn't about being one thing or another, but about being yourself, which allowed you to be all those things at once. That's how human beings are, even some fascisto-creep like Dick Cheney. Somewhere underneath his mean, greedy, water-boarding, CEO-coddling, lawyer-rifling exterior there's a guy full of love and woe, a guy who might yet be rescued by his own compassion. I'm not saying that's going to happen. I'm saying it could happen. That's the sentimental, probably-foolish-but-nonetheless-heroic hope that drives Vonnegut's books.
Kurt Vonnegut just invited you to lunch (let's forget logistics). What do you want to talk about?
SA: His family life and how he managed to write so much when he had six kids at home. Did he neglect them? If not, how in God's name did he do it? Because I'm trying to find that balance right now (with one kid) and failing utterly. I'd also be interested to hear any sorts of practical solutions he sees to the crises of abundance and empathy in this culture. But I wouldn't want to dwell on that stuff, because it'd probably get Vonnegut going on one of his rehearsed jags of outrage, and I have enough of my own to withstand. I'd also like to get music tips from him.
What kind of hero do you hope to be?
SA: Hero sounds a little grandiose. Let's reserve that for the folks who've prevailed over a lot longer odds. All I want is what Vonnegut wanted: to use my love of language in such a manner that those who find my work might be compelled to take better care of each other. And I'd like to be a good dad, too. And a good husband. There's nothing sadder than heading to the grave with a bunch of unrequited love.
We can't help but want to know more about your long-standing crush on your literary hero, Kurt Vonnegut. Do you remember the first Vonnegut book you read? How did it change your perspective on life and writing?
SA: I think the first one was Player Piano, which lead to Cat's Cradle, and Slaughter-House Five. After that, I read all of them, circling back to read SH5 and Cat's Cradle about half a dozen times. Those books! The astonishment I felt in reading them. That it was possible to be outraged and hilarious at the same time, and holy and profane and playful and serious and ecstatic and despairing and plainspoken and poetic—that writing wasn't about being one thing or another, but about being yourself, which allowed you to be all those things at once. That's how human beings are, even some fascisto-creep like Dick Cheney. Somewhere underneath his mean, greedy, water-boarding, CEO-coddling, lawyer-rifling exterior there's a guy full of love and woe, a guy who might yet be rescued by his own compassion. I'm not saying that's going to happen. I'm saying it could happen. That's the sentimental, probably-foolish-but-nonetheless-heroic hope that drives Vonnegut's books.
Kurt Vonnegut just invited you to lunch (let's forget logistics). What do you want to talk about?
SA: His family life and how he managed to write so much when he had six kids at home. Did he neglect them? If not, how in God's name did he do it? Because I'm trying to find that balance right now (with one kid) and failing utterly. I'd also be interested to hear any sorts of practical solutions he sees to the crises of abundance and empathy in this culture. But I wouldn't want to dwell on that stuff, because it'd probably get Vonnegut going on one of his rehearsed jags of outrage, and I have enough of my own to withstand. I'd also like to get music tips from him.
What kind of hero do you hope to be?
SA: Hero sounds a little grandiose. Let's reserve that for the folks who've prevailed over a lot longer odds. All I want is what Vonnegut wanted: to use my love of language in such a manner that those who find my work might be compelled to take better care of each other. And I'd like to be a good dad, too. And a good husband. There's nothing sadder than heading to the grave with a bunch of unrequited love.