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Grave
by D. J. Herda
I was thinking the other day about all of the books I have read over the years, and how much they've meant to my development as a person and as a writer. I was thinking, too, about how much fun it would have been to talk to the authors of those books, to get their take on their writing, and to see just what types of people lived behind the words. Luckily, I ran across a medium--a psychic--who was able to put me in touch with a number of writers who have meant so much to me throughout my life. She, and Google Maps. Here are the results. Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn D. J.: Your coming-of-age tale centered around a small-town boy growing into manhood is one of the most beloved books of all time. Did you know at the time you wrote it that it was destined for immortality?
Twain: Immorality? Why, I'll have you know I was once frog-jumping champion of Calaveras County. Fair and square! Whippersnapper.
Herman Melville, Moby Dick. D. J.: The opening line of your most famous book is one of the most memorable lines in all of literature. "Call me Ishmael." How long did it take you to come up with that line?
Melville: Four years, eight months, and a fortnight.
D. J.: A fortnight?
Melville: That's English for…a passel of nights.
J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye. D. J.: Your seminal book about a preppy boy struggling with the question of life and death is undoubtedly one of the greatest books of all time. In fact, it led to my deciding to become a writer. That's how powerful I found it to be when I first read it as a sophomore in high school. Is there some reason that, following its publication, you never published another book and, in fact, disappeared from the public scene altogether?
Salinger: I hate stupid questions. I don't do interviews.
Hunter Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas D. J.: As the King of Gonzo Journalism, did you actually live most of what you wrote about, or did you just create it out of thin air?
Thompson: No, uhh, you know, I couldn't say that it was either one. I just can't recall. I mean, uhh, if you're serious about your work and you, uhh, struggle day to day with the injustice in society, in American society in particular, and the stupidity of politics and, uhh, the political system, how could you, you know, support such a thing? I remember writing once, in an ABC poll or something, about the war. I forget which one. But I know, uhh, that drugs should be decriminalized, for example. Make drugs, not bullets. And the people, the majority of people, are, you know, with me.
Jack Kerouac, On the Road D. J.: When it comes to angry young men, your characters in On the Road are off the chart. They are inspired. Did you actually live most of what you wrote about, or did you just create it out of thin air?
Kerouac: That's cool, man. You got a stick?
John Fowles, A Separate Peace D. J.: I remember back in 1957…
Fowles: Don't even go there.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment D. J.: Of all the Russian novelists I have read, you are undoubtedly the greatest. Your classic tale of a man imprisoned falsely--and what that imprisonment did to him--will go down in the annals of modern literature. Did your own imprisonment at the hands of the Czar impact your writing; and, if so, how; and, if not, why not? I mean, how can one's own personal reality not interrelate to and be interjected into one's own personal art form? How can the perception of reality substitute for the reality itself? Or am I being presumptuous?
Dostoevsky: Da.
James Herriott, All Things Great and Small D. J.: Your delightful tales of a country veterinarian in Yorkshire, England, left an indelible mark on this reader. I understand that you had been talking about writing a book about your experiences for a long time. One day, after your wife reminded you that you hadn't written a word in twenty-five years, you decided to start. And the rest, as they say, is history. Is that pretty much the way it actually happened? Is that basically the way it actually transpired?
Herriott: Uhh, yes. My wife. Pretty much. I say, you wouldn't happen to have a quid on your for a pint? I'll buy.
James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans D. J.: In your continuing saga of Natty Bumppo, you introduced an Indian whose name will live on in American literature forever, Chingachgook. Did you base him upon anyone you actually knew?
Cooper: Yes, my Aunt Sadie. God, did she have bad breath!
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein D. J.: Your classic tale of horror, evolving around a superhuman creature created from reanimated pieces of dead human tissue, lives on and is, perhaps, more appreciated today than ever before. Is there a reason for the book's continuing popularity?
Shelley: Yes. He had an enormous schwanzstucker.
D. J.: You were actually married at a rather young age to the famous poet, Percy Shelley. Isn't it true that your husband once challenged you to write a great horror story, and you accepted his challenge, and that's how Frankenstein came to be?
Shelley: I'm talking enormous. Woof!
And I…am D. J. Herda.
# # #
D. J. Herda is President of the American Society of
Authors and Writers (http://amsaw.org),
an organization made up of authors, writers, editors, publishers, agents,
directors, producers, and other media professionals who rely upon the printed
word in the creation of quality literature and entertainment. He is
a member of the Author's Guild, a former member of the American Society of
Journalists and Authors, and a former member of the National Press Club.
He has published more than 80 books and several hundred thousand articles,
short stories, columns, interviews, plays, and scripts. |
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