We were in a Starbucks, seated near a window, ignoring customers rushing in for their morning coffee, attempting to ignore the machines loudly grinding out the steaming beverages, tuning out the music playing overhead. As we began discussing this article, St. Louis author Richard Burgin asked if I would need a picture. I responded that yes, we would use a photograph of him.
“But you don’t have a camera. How will that work?” he asked. I have my phone, I said simply.
After openly admitting he didn’t know much about technology, we began our discussion of his latest book, Hide Island: A Novella and Nine Stories (2013). Clearly, Jonathan Franzen’s famous criticism of technology rings true in Burgin’s case: less distraction with SmartPhones and social media has freed him up to be a prolific writer of smart, literary fiction—particularly short stories, of which he is an undisputed master. Burgin will be reading from his new collection on Thursday, October 10 at 7 p.m. at Left Bank Books, 399 N. Euclid.
This interview was shortened and edited for publication.
What inspired you for this collection?
My life has always been about making things—especially with words. So what inspired me is the same thing. I started writing when I was seven years old, so it’s just natural to me. You finish one thing, and you move on to the other. I have a kind of second life as a composer/songwriter. Then, of course, I edit the magazine Boulevard…so it’s all part of the impulse to make things. Which is kind of fundamental to my being, I guess. My only regret is I wish I “made” more children. [Laughing.] I only have one. If I’d known how much joy it is, I would have lived my life a little differently.
If you could go back through this collection and do one more, quick edit, is there anything you would change?
I’ve already written two stories since the book that are better than these, in my estimation.
I haven’t made it through every story, only as far as “A Letter in Las Vegas”, but something that I’m really enjoying so far—
The story that you’re about to read, [“From the Diary of an Invalid”] is very different than the others. It’s a sweet, more life-affirming story and it seems to be people’s favorite so far.
That’s good that there’s a balance.
That’s one of the reasons I put it in.
I have noticed that the stories take a more—I don’t want to say cynical, but for lack of a better word—cynical view of people’s lives. Your stories are rather dark and reveal a number of messed-up people. It’s up for interpretation, though, because you don’t exactly have tidy endings. It’s just a quick look at someone’s story and you’re left to wonder, “What happens?”
Yeah. Well, for example, in the first story [“Atlantis”], it is certainly very dark. But I think of it as having kind of a life-affirming or love-affirming ending, because a man overcomes his neurosis and “forgives” his girlfriend who is actually the victim, obviously. So I think of it as having a hopeful ending, despite all of the stuff that preceded it. It’s like…oddly, the horrific incident brings them closer together. So, to me, while this is a dark, edgy story…I think it is ending on a positive note. And I think that’s true of a couple of other stories in there as well, like “The Escort.”
With each of your stories, I find myself asking so many questions like “What was going on in the airport?” “What was happening with Mr. Richardson and Emilio?” But we never find out.
Well, that’s kind of Kafkaesque. It’s borderline, not surrealist, exactly, but absurdist, intentionally. It’s not meant to duplicate reality, as people commonly understand it. It’s just like Kafka’s story The Metamorphosis. A man wakes up and he’s transformed into a giant cockroach. Yet everybody relates to him much as they did when he was in human form. I mean, his mother and father and sister…it’s all family romance. So when you think of something like that, like Kafka, it’s pretty tame. I think every writer is after reality. They just do it in different ways. It’s different levels of reality. So on the surface, it may seem pretty absurd, or mysterious, that kind of arrest or expulsion from the airport in “The Escort,” but maybe if you think of some of the things that are going on in airports, like the man who spilled all those secrets, holed up in a Moscow airport, Snowden…when you think of some of the ways people are arrested or thrown into prison, this is pretty tame in comparison. I’m not always a swift realist.
I think what makes it realistic is that in life, you’re not always going to know what happens, what’s going on in “the airport.” So that’s what I meant. Your short stories are not typical in the same way that a novel tries to answer every question that may arise.
I hope they don’t, because in life, not all questions are answered, especially not the most important ones. Like why we were created to have the kind of mind that can understand that we will never understand how the world came into being…
How do you think it would change the short stories if you did answer those questions? Like what happened in the airport.
I don’t think it would be as strong or convincing…sometimes what you don’t say makes something more mysterious or compelling. It’s almost a metaphor for a situation, like I was just talking about. We’re born in a world that we can’t understand. We know we will never understand. Our minds just can’t get it and never will, any more than ants have any understanding of human life. So it maybe isn’t surprising that in these stories, there aren’t always answers because we live our lives with questions and we don’t really ever get many of the most important ones answered.
You’re getting philosophical on me, just like some of your characters tend to do. Did you have a favorite to write?
Well, maybe, “Which ones do I like the most?” might be a better question. I always try really hard at everything. “Atlantis” was in an anthology with Joyce Carol Oates, and it was Jersey noir and she really liked that one. It’s one of my favorites. I like “The Memory Center,” the novella. This is the most popular one so far—not for me, but one people seem to like the most—“The Diary of an Invalid.” I also like “Flame” and “A Letter in Las Vegas,” but I don’t think those are going to be among the most liked, because they’re really dark. Although, again, “A Letter in Las Vegas,” I think it has, similarly to “Atlantis”, a more positive, hopeful ending. It’s sort of like a “love triumphs” ending.
But at the same time, you still left wondering, “How are things going to turn out for him? Because we don’t know.
Yes, but he comes together with his brother and is going to go back…
But we still have to wonder. He made a pretty bad decision—a couple of bad decisions.
[Laughs.] Yes, he did. As many people do in Las Vegas.
So why did you choose Hide Island for the title of the collection?
I was just looking for an edgy title, nothing more profound than that—something that is short and sticks in your mind. Many of the titles of my books are oxymoronic, like my first book, Man Without Memories and you wouldn’t really be a man without any memories.
That’s very true. How did you find inspiration for “Hide Island?” Because it was pretty creative.
I would have to concoct a story if I were to tell you how I thought of it. Usually with stories…I think I can say I’ve never written a story about a place I haven’t lived in or visited. I’ve been to Florida a lot in my life…so that’s one thing. My stories always take place in places I’ve been to. I never try to imagine. An idea will come to me, sometimes I’ll just see someone, the look on their face as they’re getting into a car or crossing the street. It triggers something in my unconscious. I think the way I write, some of it comes from my life. It’s like a dance between experience and imagination with imagination in the lead. My best stories are 60 to 70 percent imagined, and about 30 to 40 percent connected to my own life. People often have trouble understanding that. They just don’t believe in imagination. They think every sentence is always about your own life. And that really isn’t the case, except that it’s about themes in your life, or things that have been issues. And you let other characters play them out. The main character in that story [“Hide Island”] is a woman, so it couldn’t be about me. But it’s sometimes hard to convince people.
Well, I did notice that several characters in this collection were writers or teachers. And you also mention Brookline several times, and that’s where you’re from. So the characters seem a to have a little in common with you, at least.
Yes, that’s where I grew up. I generally don’t write about writers as so many people do, but I think in this particular collection, that’s true.
Out of every career you’ve pursued in your life, from teaching to composing, was there one that you have enjoyed the most?
Honestly, I think it is composing music. My writing, I can do much more with. I have more command and technical knowledge. I’ve done more important work in writing, but I must say I love music more than writing.
When you write, do you have a routine?
I always try to do it in the morning, first thing. I feel strongest and have the most energy in the morning. My son gets up pretty early. I have to make him breakfast and get him to school. That’s generally when I do it.
Do you agonize over phrases, crafting the perfect sentence?
Oh, yes.
What is the best advice you can give to aspiring writers?
The hardest thing in life is to think for yourself, to decide yourself whether you like a book, not because the New York Times likes it, or a movie, or a piece of music. And the same thing would apply to your own writing. Don’t try to model it after what you think is successful, what people want. Stick to your guns. Write your truth. I think everybody needs to discover their own emotional real estate, the material they love and can write. And then you can’t help but be original, because people are like snowflakes. No two are exactly alike. I’d say that’s the most important thing…you have to have an internal conversation with yourself, and see what’s really yours—your story, your experience, your take on things. That’s what you need to follow and you need to have the courage to stick to it.
