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Interview by Mike McGinty
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Mike McGinty: You begin the book with a beautiful
quote described as an Ojibwa Song: "Sometimes I go about
pitying myself when all the time I am carried on great wings
across the sky." Who are the Ojibwa and how did you come
across the quote? |
Trebor Healey: The Ojibwa are a Native American tribe from the Minnesota
and North Dakota area. I’ve been into Native American literature, spirituality,
practices, etc. for awhile and I ran across the quote in a few places.
Mike McGinty: Why did you
choose it to open your novel?
Trebor Healey: I thought it captured exactly how we often don’t trust
the process of life and so we don’t really see what’s happening. My novel is
about people in difficult situations who do trust, and people in difficult
situations who don’t, as well as about people who learn to trust. Basically,
the quote is a liberating kind of poem/idea and it reminds you to just chill
and deal with what’s in front of you and trust it!
Mike McGinty: There’s another
Native American reference in the early part of the novel, when something Paul
says makes Neill think of Chief Joseph and his famous quote. Who was Chief
Joseph?
Trebor Healey: Chief Joseph was the leader of the Nez Perce tribe in the
Pacific Northwest. The Nez Perce were basically forced off their land and
hounded by the U.S. Cavalry. Chief Joseph surrendered eventually, after a long
game of cat and mouse through Idaho and nearly to Canada.
Mike McGinty: So what did
Chief Joseph say that makes Neill think of him?
Trebor Healey: He made one of those great inspired speeches, which
included the oft-quoted line I was referring to: “I will fight no more
forever.” Neill’s relationship with his older brother Paul is problematic –
they’ve been fighting for years, and it all suddenly seems pointless when their
little brother, Peter, is diagnosed with cancer. Neill’s process is very much
about a series of surrenders to what is, versus what he wants his life to be or
thinks it should be.
Mike McGinty: You’ve said the
book is highly autobiographical. Why did you decide to craft a novel instead of
a memoir?
Trebor Healey: Oh, I think the
truth is better served with fiction, actually. That’s the point of fiction and
art, to bring the essence out that the real story sometimes can’t do, as it
bogs down in the mundane. Besides, I wanted the freedom to streamline things,
change people, and explore other areas of character and circumstance. It’s a
composite of experiences and people, and so – though it may be recognizable in
some ways to some people – it’s not how it actually happened. But it’s truer.
Mike McGinty: Anne Lamott says
to "write as if your parents are dead," which takes great courage.
But you seem to have written this novel as if your entire family were dead
because through Neill you reveal an awful lot about your feelings for them. Was
there any fear for you in doing that?
Trebor Healey: Yes, I’ve had some
anxieties around all that. I love that quote and I think it’s a good one.
You’ve got to remove those inner critics and editors that try to prevent you
from telling the truth.
Mike McGinty: How has your
family responded to the book?
Trebor Healey: Like I said
earlier, it’s not a memoir, and my characters truly are not the people they
grew out of. My family might think otherwise, and I come from a very private
family, so we’ll see. My intention was to always respect the truth I was
exploring and the humanity of those involved. It’s really a book about love and
the mess that love is, and if people see it that way, then what’s to fear? I would
hope my family sees it as an expression of love, albeit real love with all the
warts.
Mike McGinty: Your prose is
obviously influenced by the fact that you’re a poet. Was this something you
consciously strove for, or did it come naturally?
Trebor Healey: It’s just how I
write. Fortunately, I’ve always been a narrative poet, more interested in
lyricism and imagery that moves toward other imagery so that connections are
being made that carry the story forward.
Mike McGinty: Alexander Chee’s
Edinburgh has this same poetic sensibility, and tackles a similarly tough
subject of its own: the sexual abuse of children. Do you think such highly
emotional topics - fraught with passion, loss and grief - lend themselves more
easily to this kind of treatment?
Trebor Healey: I think poetry
emerges out of trauma. Poetry is raw – the raw truth. This is the necessity of
poetry. They don’t have fiction workshops in housing projects and prisons, but
they do have poetry workshops. It’s how the heart speaks when it’s really raw.
For me, it’s the best tool I have in writing fiction. It’s like my hammer.
Mike McGinty: You mentioned
how you like to make connections that carry the story forward. In the book,
Neill finds a lot of similarities between his relationship with Vince and
Peter’s struggle with cancer. He even says that “the two situations were the
same” on some level. Does Neill view his homosexuality as a cancer?
Trebor Healey: No, but I
understand what you mean. There is a parallel here, at least in Neill’s mind.
Again, it’s the traumatic dilemma of both situations. Neill feels hopeless,
full of dread, “diagnosed” in a sense with being queer. At the outset of the
story it’s a curse for him, and then he finds Vince, who liberates him from
that view as well as confirms it. Part of what the story is about is learning
to see things for what they are versus the inaccurate metaphors we attach to
things. But it’s also
about making use of metaphor as a door to understanding. Metaphor is inexact,
often a kind of broad sword, but metaphor is a process too and it can evolve
along with a character. Good metaphors do.
Mike McGinty: Neill certainly
evolves over the course of the book. He starts out as a suburban, middle-class
guy who is innocent in many ways. He even describes himself as “a blank sheet
of paper in need of a story.” Enter Vince, a thief, a junkie, a bitter, angry
survivor of child abuse and cancer. Did you struggle with making their
relationship believable?
Trebor Healey: Not at all.
Opposites attract. Neill is like most gay kids from the suburbs – his spirit
has been slowly dying for years. Neill wants to learn to live for real and he
comes from a world that doesn’t trust life; that keeps it in check. Enter Vince
with everything that’s missing. He’s the antidote to the suburbs.
Mike McGinty: The novel
contains many references to religion and spirituality. One of the obvious ones
is that you name Neill’s brothers Peter and Paul. Why did you choose those
names?
Trebor Healey: Well, it’s my
poetic connection to my Irish Catholic upbringing. I’m not a Christian now, but
I love the story. It’s a great story, full of great imagery. Saints Peter and
Paul are really the fathers of the church, and they are very different
archetypally. Peter is very human, full of doubt, bumbling even. Paul, on the
other hand, is rigid, evangelical, never doubts himself, a corruption of the
original message—which is love, right? See the parallel in the brothers?
Mike McGinty: Vince introduces
Neill to works like the Tibetan Book of the Dead and Jung’s writings, and
actually brings him on a visit to a Buddhist lama. What significance do these
have?
Trebor Healey: Vince and Neill
have been lied to by the world, like most gay people: the proscribed reality of
the suburbs, Christianity, heterosexual hegemony, etc. They are two young men
who are both very driven on a heart level, and they want to know what’s going
on. They want to find a way to live honestly in the world. The occult is always
a good place to start, and it’s probably the starting place of choice in San
Francisco,
if not most places nowadays where there are alternative communities. Wisdom
exists for the most part outside of the mainstream.
Mike McGinty: There is a
feeling of profound gratitude which comes through in the book’s title and goes
a lot deeper than “looking on the bright side of things.” Neill was able to see
the gifts in all the pain of what he went through. What does it take, in your
opinion, for a person to be able to turn that corner and get to that place,
instead of wallowing in misery?
Trebor Healey: Necessity, plain
and simple. When you have no choice and cannot afford to wallow, you turn the
corner. We are all stronger than we know. And all of us have incredible courage
in reserve that we only discover when things go badly wrong. And so many things
we perceive as ‘bad’ or ‘tragic’ in our lives often end up the things that make
us real human beings. Support from others is essential I think too. Gratitude
comes from love, and love comes from community.
Mike McGinty: A book like this
could easily devolve into a tedious chronicle of doomed young love with a
treacly disease-of-the-week TV movie feel to it. But none of it comes across
that way. How did you avoid that booby trap?
Trebor Healey: Black humor. When
my brother was ill, we used to watch those movies – Brian’s Song and Something
for Joey, all those – to take the edge off. Humor is a lot more powerful
than sentimentality, I can tell you. But it’s worth pointing out that there is
something there in those films as well. Life is sometimes treacly. Hanging out
with your mother in a hospital while your brother moans in pain? It’s like a
cheap shot. We were brutally honest and we’d joke about how cliché things
sometimes felt. I guess this is what TV culture does to one. In writing about
it, I just tried to stay honest with myself and respectful of the feelings and
the real situation. You’ve got to try to lift it up, over and over, when you
write about this kind of thing. You can’t let it fall into
that comfortable, treacly Lazy Boy chair.
Mike McGinty: You avoid that
nicely by including not one, but three coming-out scenes. But in each one,
Neill expects a much worse reaction than he gets. In fact, he admits that “I’d
underestimated them all.” Do you think this is typical of gay people who come
out?
Trebor Healey: No, I don’t. I’ve
heard horror stories, as have we all. Neill is a lucky boy. He’s also a very
cautious guy, so he tends to prepare for the worst. He’s wounded and he’s
learned not to trust the world. I think gay people are wise not to expect much,
and to be very wary – look at our political and religious culture. But I do
think we often underestimate straight folks—or, I should say, the culture at
large. The majority, which unfortunately is a silent majority for the most
part, do not despise us. If we don’t underestimate them, maybe they won’t
underestimate us.
Mike McGinty: The book deals
with sibling rivalry, surviving cancer, first love, and a young person’s
struggle to find his identity. These are universal themes, but by presenting
them in the context of homosexuality and coming out, do you think that makes
your novel a "gay novel" or you a "gay writer?"
Trebor Healey: Oh that. Let me
quote Jesus, whom I’m not in the habit of quoting: “It is you who say it.” I’m
kidding in a way. I don’t really care. It’s the reality of publishing and the
reading public and this identity politics-focused culture. I’m happy to be
called gay, homo, fag, queer. I’ll thank you for calling me that. The gay
community saved my life and has responded to my writing and supported me and I
wouldn’t be here without all of those great folks. I love queers, and am proud
in any way I am associated with them. Sure, I want everyone to read my book
and I hope they do, and I hope people don’t limit themselves to their sexual
orientation when choosing books to read. I certainly don’t, nor do most readers
I know.
Mike McGinty: So what are you
choosing to read these days?
Trebor Healey: I’ve been reading
a lot of short stories: Mary Gaitskill, Barry Lopez and Sherman Alexie
really stand out. I’m reading a lot of contemporary writers too: David
McConnell’s “Firebrat,” Marshall Moore’s “The Concrete Sky,” and Juliet
Sarkessian’s “Trio Sonata.”
Mike McGinty: What about books
and authors that have influenced your work?
Trebor Healey: When I was in high
school and college, I was super into Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald – I had to
read everything they wrote. I did my senior thesis on Melville and read all his
books, too. Then I discovered Jack Kerouac and Genet, Camus, Celine, Gide,
Pablo Neruda, Rilke and Rumi. Later I got into Lawrence Durrell, Jeanette
Winterson, Chekhov’s short stories and Louise Erdrich and Lois Ann Yamanaka.
The
most important book of the last 10 years for me is Tom Spanbauer’s “The Man Who
Fell in Love With the Moon.” I was awestruck at this man’s voice. It’s with me
forever.
Mike McGinty: And now your own
book can be with others forever. What’s next for you?
Trebor Healey: Well, I’m off to
tour this book in October and November. I’m giving up my job and apartment, so
who knows? I’m working on a new book – a road novel about a sort of drug-addled
Huck Finn who finds his Jim in a Native American medicine man while he’s riding
his bike cross-country with his lover’s ashes tied to the handlebars. I moved
to LA to write
“Through It Came Bright Colors.” LA has been good to me. Now I need a new city
for a new book.
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