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  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

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May 12, 2008

TEV GUEST REVIEW (AND INTERVIEW): PAMELA ERENS’S THE UNDERSTORY

The Understory
By Pamela Erens
Ironweed Press
142 pp
$11.95

GUEST REVIEW BY JIM RULAND

Don’t be fooled by The Understory’s low page count or the fact that it begins at a Buddhist monastery in rural Vermont. Pamela Erens’s novel is a letter bomb of a book, pulsing with savage potency. Its elegant prose, deliberate descriptions, and unhurried pace mask the sinister sensibilities percolating within the protagonist.

The Understory describes Jack Gorse’s eviction from his apartment in New York City. For most novels, this would mark the beginning of the story, but here it comprises the entire narrative arc. Erens reveals the details with care and deliberation so that we can absorb the implications—even though they elude the protagonist.

Gorse is a strange fellow ruled by obsessions. A former lawyer, he spends his days reading books and wandering New York’s Central Park, but he’s anything but carefree. His days are ordered by a rigorous schedule to which he is compelled to adhere. His interests--from horticulture to twins—invariably become subjects of intense infatuation. When a friendly architect who has been hired to renovate Gorse’s building makes an uncharacteristically kind gesture, Gorse unwittingly draws him into his web.


Because his compulsive behavior feels normal to Gorse, it feels normal to the reader as well – in much the same way that Meursault’s actions in Camus’s The Stranger seem exceedingly ordinary even when they are not. Gorse’s restless imagination provides the reader with a plethora of information about a wide range of subjects even as it drives the story to its grim conclusion.
The Understory is both an ode to New York City and a psychological portrait of a life on the margins.


QUIZTUNES FOR PAMELA ERENS


TEV: Tell me about The Understory's path to publication.


PE: It has to have been one of the least auspicious ever, except maybe for that Confederacy of Dunces guy who killed himself. At least I'm still walking around.


When I look now at the manuscript that I sent around, if I were an agent I wouldn't have accepted it either. I got a lot of what I'd call "the nice letter" from agents. You know, "beautifully written, blah blah." But no takers. So I started to submit directly to small presses. Ironweed Press was running a competition that offered a contract and a small advance as the prize. I entered and won. I was lucky the competition judge saw something in the work.

By that point, I'd had some real time away from the manuscript, and I think my craft developed a lot during that period. My editor had some suggestions for revisions, and when I went back to the work I just tore it apart. I saw more and more that I wanted or needed to do. The revision kept taking longer and longer, but my editor was willing to wait and was open to all the changes. In the end, I had pretty much written a brand-new book.

TEV: Your protagonist spends an enviable amount of time in Central Park. Do you share his passion for the place?

PE: I love Central Park. I lived in New York City for many years and every day I walked from the West Side to the East Side through the Park to my job. The story of the creation of Central Park is incredibly inspiring, and part of that story is told in the novel. It's one of the rare examples of the right thing getting done against all the odds. That the city would agree to take a huge swath of prime real estate during a building and population explosion and set it aside for the recreational use of poor and rich alike--that's amazing. There were so many chances for the project to be derailed and it managed not to be derailed. The making of Central Park was extremely expensive and extremely challenging and extremely time-consuming. And now it is and for 150 years has been a beautiful expanse of of walks and lawns and bridges and flowers and trees and hills and secluded areas.

TEV: Gorse knows a great deal about horticulture. Did you have to learn what Gorse knows or are you a green thumb yourself?

PE: I'm a big faker. The plant world interests me, and I love the woods and this time of year on the East Coast when the cherry blossoms and azaleas and lilacs all bust out. But my actual knowledge is sketchy. I did a good bit of research for the book. My husband is a gardener, and some things I got from watching him or asking him. I just always felt that Gorse would have this passion that combines the natural/sensual and the analytical. The analytical part is his preoccupation with taxonomy, the way plants are categorized.

TEV: The world comes at Gorse through smells and sounds and he's in tune with the cycle of the seasons. Despite the fact that he spends his days reading and studying, he's animalistic in a way that's almost primitive. Was this your intention?

PE: I never thought of it in exactly that way, but I like how you put it. Yes, there's a contrast there. I think it has to do with the fact that Gorse lives, in his own words, "close to the ground" and without a lot of technology.

It's probably impossible for a human being to live without some sort of sensual life. Human contact and human sensuality are too threatening for Gorse, but he's able to enjoy touch and sight and smells through his connection to plants. He pays very close attention to plants--the same attention people will pay to a lover.


TEV: One of my favorite movies is Barton Fink and what makes the film so entertaining to watch over and over again are the facial expressions of the other characters whenever Barton goes off on one of his rants. It underscores that gap between how he sees himself and how he is perceived by others. One of the fascinating things about Gorse is that his mind appears quite orderly, but the reactions of those around him suggest that something's not quite right.


PE: I saw that movie a long time ago, and you've made me want to go back and watch it again. I'm glad the novel had that effect on you. That's what I wanted--for readers to glean things about Gorse from how other people react to him. At the same time I didn't want it to be indisputable that something's "wrong" with Gorse. There's that scene where he goes into the bookstore and the owner kicks him out. We never know why. We never know if there really is something disgusting about Gorse's physical presence, or whether the owner mistook him for someone else or was crazy himself. The important thing for me in that scene is the way Gorse reacted--it made him perceive something criminal in himself. Another person would have brushed off the insult as absurd, or would have gotten angry.


TEV: That's very true because in the middle of the book, a Buddhist monk counsels Gorse: "There's nothing more interesting, is there, than everyday life. Mistakes, oversights, misunderstandings. Every day we testify against ourselves." The key to the book, and to Gorse, is right there, but he doesn't really grasp it, does he?


PE: No, and that's the point, isn't it? All of us constantly overlook the clues we're leaking. As Gorse describes his various daily activities, the reader can presumably see some of the impulses, needs, and conflicts that drive him, but he isn't always aware of them. But I'm not entirely sure that having been more aware would have led to a different outcome. I'm a bit pessimistic that way.


TEV: You were recently named a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for First Fiction. What's next?


PE: I'm working on two new novels, toggling between them, which may be a really stupid idea. I guess I'll find out. One is another novel for adults and one I see as a young adult novel. I've wanted to see if I can write a book for pre-teens and younger teenagers without sacrificing anything in emotional depth or resonance of language. The ideal would be a book that younger readers would enjoy but that adults could find up to snuff, too. I'm thinking of the way that Carson McCuller's The Member of the Wedding is read by junior high school students but reveals its full gorgeousness only to an adult. Sounder is another "kid's" book I read recently that just blew me away with its beauty. I think it's incredibly difficult to write a novel that can work on both the older-kid and adult levels. I'd love to pull it off.

As for The Understory, it would be nice to believe that the nomination will help more readers make their way to the novel. You never know, though. It's a small-press book. People have to dig a little to find it.

Comments

Terrific interview! I loved "The Understory" and also interviewed Pamela on my blog www.insideoutchina.com. Pamela's writing is beautiful and unique. The novel deserves many more readers.

Jim, excellent review and interview. I loved Pamela's novel and was delighted that she was a finalist for the L.A. Times Book Prize for First Fiction. Onward!

Very interesting interview, loved reading about the path to publication and the way the book grew into the beautiful work it is today.

Very interesting interview, loved reading about the path to publication and the way the book grew into the beautiful work it is today.

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