Steven Parlato's Blog: Novel Thoughts

September 20, 2013

First off, I can’t believe almost a month’s flown since my last post. And tomorrow is summer’s official end. I picture those final days unspooling like fabric from a giant roll. The leading edge is the intense blue of late-August sky; then the material ombres toward rust and gold. We’re at bolt’s end now, the last length slipping from the cardboard core, about to spill free. It seems impossible we’re packing away summer 2013, but it’s happening. It always does. Same as ever. For me, though, this summer held a major difference.

Technically, at least by the standards of the traditional working world, I didn’t “work” much this summer—except for a few Friday hours at the office job I’ve held for years. My father runs the place; it’s family duty, sweetened with a paycheck. The last few summers have also included a contract at the college where I teach. I’ve taught (creative writing, a blast) and spent hours, desk-tethered, fulfilling admin duties as co-coordinator of our First Year Experience program (less glamorous than it sounds).

This summer, I vowed, would be different. Because, this summer, I am different. This is my first summer as a published novelist. Let’s take a moment, allow that to sink in…okay, it’ll take more than a moment. I’ll continue. As a published novelist—yeah, too pretentious. As a writer, I figured I should write. In fact, I spent the last half of spring semester telling folks at school I’d spend this summer writing my next book, sharing my intent to dive in “the minute the semester ends.” Even as I repeated this mantra, I knew I was setting up a crazy-impossible expectation.

The voice in my head kept saying, “Really? It took you over FIVE YEARS to write the first one. You honestly think you can crank out another over summer vacation?” My head voice rarely says anything positive. I swear I should just tune it out. Anyway, at semester’s end, I dove right in. And it was like that time I crashed nose-first into the cement bottom of the park pool. Stunningly painful, and not especially productive.

I spent weeks toiling (for no immediate pay; according to Parlato Family Tradition, that’s not work) on two different drafts—with mounting frustration. One’s a ghost story set in a Cape-May-like seaside town; the other’s a contemporary YA with a Holocaust link. Both were basically dead in the water, though I think they’ll happen in time.

At a loss to write, I floundered, wondering if I’d screwed up not taking that college contract. Maybe I needed the pressure of a “real job” for motivation. As I brooded, my friend, Andrea, wisely reminded me to savor the accomplishment of my first book. My wife, Janet, ever supportive, regularly assured me The Namesake was not a fluke. Though still plagued by angsty doubt, I enjoyed making a bunch of cool appearances in support of that book I’d actually managed to successfully complete. At a couple of these events, actual copies were sold. One was even a paying gig. I was earning money as a writer—even if we weren’t quite able to afford a world tour (more like an occasional day trip) yet.

Still struggling on the ghost story, I decided it might be good to devote some time to reading—after all, I was a big, fat writing dud. I read Andrew Smith’s Winger (awesome, quirky voice); my friend, Bill Bless’s book, Whoever We May Be At Last (gorgeous poetry and prose); the witty and moving manuscript of an essay collection, Flip-flops After Fifty, by my friend, Cindy Eastman; some poetry collections; and other stuff I can’t recall right now. Inspiration began, if not to strike, at least to tickle. Then I had my epiphany.

It came in the form of Stephen Chbosky’s wildly popular YA, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Since I teach a YA fiction class, I’d been feeling guilty about not having gotten around to it. Reading over the course of a couple days, I finished the book around 2:00 AM, Monday, July 8th. I’d heard hints about the novel’s big reveal (which I won’t spoil here, in case there’s anyone left who hasn’t read it), but it still shook me, and I was unable to sleep after closing the book.

Around 5:00 AM, I sat up in bed with a girl’s name, and murmurs of her story in my head. I knew it was pointless—and stupid—to roll over. Without bedside paper or pen (bad writer form, I know), I grabbed my phone, tapping out the first chapter on my tiny keyboard. Nearly two hours later, I had a fairly polished 500 words, which I sent to my email.

I haven’t looked back. July 8th was the starting point. I’ve written faithfully every day since. There have been birthdays and holidays, car troubles and dental work, early mornings and sleepless nights since that Monday. But every day, I have written; admittedly, some days only for minutes, belching out a few awkward phrases before surrendering to pillow. As of today, seventy-five days into the process, I have a 117-page draft.

Not exactly lightning-speed. But I’m a plodder, and I’ve made peace with my obsessiveness, my apparent inability to churn out a sloppy first draft. It’s okay. My batch is steadily growing, and the words have a certain shine. This feels right.

Of course, now I’m back to “work”; fall semester started August 28th, and I now have the writing of 128 students—not just my own—as a major focus. It’s okay. I love the process of working with student writers. Helping them build sometimes spindly writing muscles, I thrive on their realizations, their great strength. Teaching simultaneously exhausts and inspires me. I am a teacher; it is my life’s work.

But it’s not my only life’s work. I AM A WRITER. I give that prompt to my developmental writing students on day one. Many initially refuse to embrace the label. I can identify. I was once reluctant to declare it myself. It sounds far less concrete than Inside Sales Manager, or Teacher. But I’ve realized something: Writing is some of the hardest and best, some of the noblest work I’ve ever done. Writer is an occupation I’m honored to call my own, even if Barnes & Noble never has a “Steven Parlato Experience” end cap (Kudos, John Green!).

Tomorrow’s fall; before I became a teacher, traditionally my melancholy season. I always felt something was missing at autumn’s arrival. Turns out I wasn’t mourning the end of humidity and bug bites, but the anticipation of promise, the advent of possibility that accompanies the return to class.

What I’ll miss this fall is time. Time to write. Time to think exclusively about my own writing—or think about nothing at all. Now, my days (and many nights) swell with grading, department meetings, worrying about the complicated lives of my students. Still, I’m determined—and honored—to take up the mantle, to declare myself a writer. The price is I must write. And I’ve vowed to do just that. Each day, early or late, I’ll continue to carve out slivers of time to create. And, maybe not before the next shift in season, but one day, one day, I’ll be able to introduce a new person to the world. Her name’s Teddi Alder; I’m weaving the fabric of her experience. She’s taking shape.

The following is excerpted from an interview that appeared on Book Addict 24-7's website on 9/6/13. Find the original here: http://bookaddict24-7.com/post/604869...

Book Addict 24-7 Welcomes: Steven Parlato!

Welcome to Interview Fridays!

This week I have Steven Parlato here with me! Steven’s debut, The Namesake, was my second favourite book of 2012 and he’s also a good friend of mine, so it’s an honour having him on the blog! Steven’s interview is insightful and tackles questions that may come to mind while reading his dark and insightful young adult novel.

Enjoy!
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Author Bio

“Steven Parlato is a writer, illustrator and Assistant Professor of English at Naugatuck Valley Community College in Connecticut.

An occasional actor, he’s played roles including MacBeth, The Scarecrow and Bambi’s dad, the Great Prince of the Forest.

Steve’s poetry appears in journals including MARGIE, Borderlands, Freshwater, CT River Review and Peregrine. His debut YA manuscript, JUNIOR, winner of the 2011 Tassy Walden Award for New Voices, was released January 18, 2013 by Merit Press as The Namesake.

Recently, Kirkus called the novel a “memorable, disturbing story, carefully wrought.” Represented for fiction by Victoria Marini of Gelfman-Schneider Literary Agency, Steve is at work on his next YA novel.”

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1. The Namesake is a very gutsy novel that challenges its readers to think about the complexity of human relationships. What do you think was the hardest aspect of writing a novel like yours?

“First off, thanks, Dayla, for that wonderful compliment. There were two especially difficult aspects. When I first began The Namesake, I honestly didn’t know where it was headed. Once the direction became clear, I vowed to tell Evan’s story as honestly as possible. Still, I sometimes struggled against the book’s dark path. Putting Evan’s father through the horrors of abuse was no picnic. It was painful to write; occasionally, I felt kind of like I was Evan making discoveries, rather than an author creating stuff, if that makes sense.

It was also difficult to write because of the initial inspiration. My cousin committed suicide at forty-four; his son was seventeen. Soon after, in a writing class, I began the story of a teenager whose father commits suicide. Even though I wasn’t telling my cousin’s story, I felt intense survivor’s guilt, and I second-guessed myself constantly. In the end, I trusted the process, wrote from a place of faith, and the novel actually helped on some level to process that loss.”

2. You already know just how much I loved your debut—but why do you think other readers will love it, too?

“You mean, aside from you having remarkably good taste?

Let’s see…this is a difficult question, because I’m still susceptible to the “don’t toot your own horn” philosophy ingrained in me as a kid. Let’s see, readers will LOVE The Namesake because it’s truthful. I took pains to portray the relationships—and brutal plot aspects—authentically. So I think readers, YA and older, will connect with Evan on that gut-deep level of emotional truth. And it’s not as if it’s necessary to have endured the events portrayed in the novel to relate. We’ve all been hurt, all had our world upended in ways large and small; we’ve all had to forge a path back from loss and betrayal. I believe these emotional links make Evan someone for whom readers will have affection.

Plus, The Namesake has a strong dose of humor. For example, Evan refers to his dad’s final resting place as a “crisper drawer”; a tad disrespectful, but funny. As a reader, I always fall for characters who combat dark circumstance with equally dark humor. And there’s even a hint of a romance between Evan and his best friend, Lex.”

3. Evan, your protagonist, faces some very tough discoveries about his father. How would Evan’s relationship with his father, prior to his death and after his death, reflect on that of contemporary father/son relationships?

“Wow, another awesome question. The relationship between the Evans was extremely challenging—and very natural—to write. I won’t claim much in the way of research, reading sociological studies on the complexities of father/son bonds or anything. However, as a son—and a son’s father—I’m expert on two specific brands of that relationship: the ones I’ve lived.

It wasn’t that difficult imagining myself into the pre-suicide dynamic Evan shared with his dad. That relationship—its emotional distance, Evan’s feelings of inadequacy—I know well from my childhood. I don’t mean to judge my father by some weird emotional barometer, because that’s unfair. But he’s of a generation (pardon my sweeping generalization) that didn’t value fathers bonding emotionally with sons. Sons were meant to be tough, athletic, everything I wasn’t as an artistic, bookish kid. And, enlightened as we think we are, that tough-love-guys-don’t-need-affection attitude still exists. As a father myself, I’ve possibly swung the pendulum too far. I’m emotional with my kids; I apologize; I say, “I love you.” At sixteen, my son’s sort of over it. Hopefully, he’ll succeed in getting the pendulum balanced just right with his own son someday.

The heartbreak of the Galloway father/son relationship post-suicide is that Evan finally comprehends his dad. He comes to understand his lost father on an incredibly deep level, creating the potential for a truly amazing relationship. Of course, it’s too late to use that understanding in a practical way. But maybe, like my son, Evan will apply those lessons with his own son, should he ever have one…What, Evan’s not real? Oh, right.”

4. Did you ever face any surprises of your own while writing The Namesake?

“Writing The Namesake was continually surprising, starting with the topic. And never having written a novel before, I was constantly amazed by the process, the way some seemingly random choice often became a make-or-break detail several chapters later.

I was also blown away by early interest. When a classmate showed my first chapters to a “friend in publishing,” she ended up being senior executive editor at a major NY publishing house, and seemed interested in acquiring the novel. It was a sad surprise when she passed, then left publishing. I was also surprised to learn my first agent had represented Robert Cormier and other YA giants. And I was frankly shocked by my courage to leave that agent when it became clear we’d made a bad match.

One of the best surprises was realizing the editor who finally bought The Namesake was actually Jackie Mitchard, original Oprah’s Book Club author. One thing that never surprised me was the unflagging belief of my amazing wife, Jan, and our dear friends who encouraged me when I was ready to bail.”

5. After writing such an emotionally stimulating novel that fearlessly showcases some of the more taboo subjects in literature, do you think you will ever tackle anymore serious issues? If so, which ones?

“Though I didn’t plan to be a Fearless Writer of Taboo Literature, I believe in committing to the story. And, yes, other gritty topics are important to me. Mental illness, and the marginalization of the mentally ill, is an issue with personal resonance that often surfaces in my writing, particularly my poetry. So I see myself exploring that topic in fiction. Currently, I’m writing a YA novel with a female protagonist, Teddi Alder. She lives alone with her mother, who grapples with substance abuse, and Teddi’s struggling to understand her own anxiety. Along the way, she uncovers a chilling mystery from her past. It’s definitely shades lighter than The Namesake, but it deals with some serious stuff.

I also have a start on a YA featuring a contemporary teen who discovers a Holocaust connection. And, having lost my mom to pancreatic cancer in 2005, I can see myself writing a book around that topic. Though, really, after John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, maybe there’s no need.”

6. As a father, what is your personal take on Evan’s relationship with his father?

“I’ll risk sounding corny.

Their relationship reminds me to live my relationship with my own kids as authentically as I’m able. Evan’s dad was so profoundly damaged—not just by the abuse, but by the great tragedy of his adult life—that he was unable to experience the treasure of his son. And Evan interpreted his father’s emotional distance as indifference. How could he know it was really fear and pain, an inability to forgive himself? If they’d only been able to break through that armor they wore with one another, they could’ve had an incredible relationship. But the parent/child bond is so complex.

I’m dealing right now with a son who’s growing up and away, testing boundaries to find himself. And I SUCK at it. Every day, I question whether I’m doing anything right. But my kids are great people, and I make sure to tell them that. Maybe not as often as I tell Ben to clean his room, but…sigh.”

7. Would you ever recommend going to the life-changing weekend experience that Evan chooses to go on? If so, what do you think would be the benefits of going? If not, why?

“HA! I love this question!

I don’t recommend going on the encounter Evan attended. That thing was nightmarish! But when I was a Catholic high schooler, I did attend a weekend encounter. It featured some of the very same aspects as Evan’s—the less creepy ones—rooming with a stranger (ugh), inspirational music, prayer, confession, palancas, even that mirror exercise. And it was rumored that “they beat you ‘til you cry.” They didn’t beat us, but it was such an emotionally raw experience, you almost couldn’t help but cry.

I remain faithfully Catholic, and I think there’s a lot to be gained by attending retreat. In our hectic world, it’s an opportunity to be still and explore one’s relationship with God. Truthfully, I believe it can be spiritually enriching, as long as your father’s long-dead boogeyman is not in attendance.”

8. The Namesake may be also read as a cautionary tale that shows us that the past is sometimes better left alone—would you agree with this, or would you suggest another lesson that readers can learn from your debut? Which lesson would that be?

“It’s hard to say.

I certainly have ideas about what I’d like readers to take away, but I’m reluctant to spell out a lesson. Mrs. Solomon-Baxter-Coombs’ caution, “There are worse things than not knowing,” seems to have merit. However, if we could ask Evan, I think he’d say it was worth the pain and trauma to know his father more fully.

There are, of course, wounds that must remain bandaged over, simply to function day-to-day. But I think we sometimes make the mistake of withholding the truth (even from ourselves) out of some misguided effort to protect.”

9. The storyline of The Namesake may also hint that Evan’s growing curiosity regarding his father’s past slowly slips from grief, to insanity. Do you believe that Evan’s character slipped from your hands and followed his own path, or do you think we all need to cross the line between mere curiosity and disturbing fascination when it comes to grieving?

“This is another intense question!

There were many points where Evan slipped from my hands, and I cringed at the keyboard, like a moviegoer yelling at the screen. I wanted, for instance, to warn him away from that hallway where he encountered Father Fran at Holy Family Merciful Wisdom Center. But I couldn’t intrude on his quest. My job, to paraphrase Stephen King, was unearthing the fossil without causing too much damage. It was like Evan’s story already existed, I was responsible for unearthing it, and only he knew how far to go in pursuit of truth and healing.

As far as grief, all bets are off. There simply is no one appropriate way to process it. I think it’s natural to go off the rails in the face of profound loss. Grief is messy, ugly. It can descend out of a cloudless sky. Yesterday was the twelfth anniversary of my cousin’s suicide, and I still haven’t processed it fully. I don’t believe in closure. At some level, every one of us is a member of the walking wounded. Does that sound dire? To me, it’s the opposite: a reminder to greet people with compassion, because we’re all scarred.”

10. Of all the possible rewards you’ve earned for writing this complex debut, which would you say is the greatest—and how did it motivate you to keep writing young adult novels?

“I won’t lie. Praise is awesome, whether it’s from Kirkus, or Publishers Weekly, or from insightful book aficionados like you.

The Namesake is even under consideration for a couple awards; these are phenomenal, pinch-me experiences. Still, in all honesty, if my novel touches one reader who’s endured something similar to Evan’s dad, if my words lend comfort to that individual—making him or her feel less alone—that will be the greatest reward of all.”

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Thanks for stopping by, Steven!

I hope you enjoyed this week’s interview! Check back next week for another awesome interview!

Happy reading!

Dayla F.M.

First appeared on my website, August, 24, 2013. http://stevenparlato.com/?p=355

At a recent bookstore event, I experienced a cringe-worthy moment. Oddly, my distress involved a pair of shoppers interested in buying my novel, THE NAMESAKE. It’s not that these patrons were creepy or threatening. In fact, they were friendly, talkative. Heck, they looked like they’d walked straight out of a breakfast cereal commercial. The thing is, it wouldn’t have been a fiber-rich brand for grownups or health-conscious teens. Nope, this mother/child duo squarely fit the sugary-kid-cereal demographic.

You’re likely thinking: What’s the problem, Steve? A sale’s a sale. Actually, that’s what the voice in my head said at the time. Well, one of the voices. Another insisted, “You’ve GOT to say something! This book is NOT appropriate for an eleven-year-old.” I listened to Voice # Two, the louder one, the one that had also informed my own disappointed pre-teen she’d have to wait to read THE NAMESAKE “until she’s a bit older.”

Let me explain. I’m not generally a censor of books or a suppressor of creativity. I mean, I’m a writing teacher and an artist; my gig is generally all about supporting creative self-expression. And clearly, I want people to read my book! I also don’t consider myself a controversial person, but THE NAMESAKE is a bit hot-button. It’s garnered strong reviews and comments from readers who’ve called it “brave and unflinching,” and a novel that “pulls no punches.”

Though most people would probably not apply the following adjective to me, my novel is fairly dark. Following Evan Galloway, a gifted artist and honor student, as he grapples with his father’s suicide, THE NAMESAKE deals with the fallout from child sexual abuse and the horrible ripple effect it can have across generations. The book is fraught with family secrets, painful revelations and realistically raw language. The main antagonist is—brace yourself—a pedophile priest. After reading the novel, a local barista friend said, “I don’t know if I can think about Steve the same way.”

So what made me write a story that would lead to bookstore angst and uncomfortable coffeehouse interactions? Hard to say. I actually didn’t set out to write about sexual abuse—certainly not of the clergy variety—but it’s a topic that matters to me, and it has a way of surfacing in my writing, both my poetry and fiction. Once it became clear that the story needed to “go there,” I fully committed to telling it. Well, after some unsuccessful attempts to twist the tale in other directions.

Writing honestly about abuse meant facing some dark moments throughout the process, and questioning myself every step of the way. It was very difficult to put Evan, a character I’d grown to love, through the emotionally excruciating experience of uncovering his father’s painful past. There were moments when I considered just giving up. But creating THE NAMESAKE was not a task I took lightly; it felt important, and not just for my own sake. At every turn, I imagined my future readers and how they might respond. It seemed like a disservice to them to back away from telling Evan’s story.

Some adult readers have called THE NAMESAKE too graphic and depressing for YA readers. While I agree the content is dark and mature, I actually took great pains not to be overly graphic. Most of the abuse is not described in detail. I honestly believe the book feels graphic because of the reader’s ability to imagine and visualize the horrors I’ve hinted at in the novel. Having Evan’s father suffer sexual abuse rather than Evan himself was a conscious choice; I felt it would provide the reader a protective emotional cushion. And while I knew the presence of hope was essential, it was equally important to honor those who’ve survived abuse by portraying that experience realistically, minus sugarcoating.

Those probably well-meaning adult readers overlook something crucial when they say the book is too heavy for young adults. It’s the fact that teens today are aware of more than we may wish they were—this has probably always been the case. They’re aware because they, or people they care about, are struggling with similarly tough content in their own lives. When we write authentically about dark, controversial material—obviously tempered with hope and humor—we show respect and concern for their experience. Maybe we even help one or two of them to cope with the darkness of their own lives. At least, I hope so. For me, that would be the best possible outcome of the journey I went on in writing THE NAMESAKE. Knowing the book had been meaningful to even one young person, making him or her feel less alone and somehow more understood, would make it all worthwhile.

As for that mother/child team who were interested in buying my book, I told them it was “rated fourteen and up for mature content.” The mom said, “Well, maybe we’ll read this one together.” Definitely another squeamish moment. But I fought the instinct to wrench the book from her hand. Instead, I happily inscribed it and sent them on their way, secure in the belief that each book finds the reader it’s meant for, and that a kid whose mom supports him in reading a “tough” book is a kid whose parent believes in preparing him for the real world. And I swear my daughter will get to read THE NAMESAKE one day soon, when she—or maybe it’s me—is really ready.

I had the honor of being tagged by Beth Fehlbaum, author of Merit Press's upcoming BIG FAT DISASTER, to discuss THE NAMESAKE as The Next Big Thing. Thanks, Beth! Check out Beth's site here: http://bethfehlbaumbooks.com/blog.html

Okay, here's my post, which first appeared 8/15/13 on my website, http://www.stevenparlato.com

Is it too late for THE NAMESAKE to be considered the next big thing? See, my YA novel, THE NAMESAKE, technically released in early 2013, but it doesn’t seem fair to rob my protagonist, Evan Galloway, of his shot at 15 minutes of Next-Big-Thingness. Does it?

Well, I hope not. And fellow YA author, Beth Fehlbaum, clearly didn’t think so either, because she graciously tagged me to talk about THE NAMESAKE here. Be sure to check out Beth’s site to find out about her upcoming Merit Press release BIG FAT DISASTER. She recently blogged about her own NEXT BIG THING here!

Okay, here we go!

What is the working title of your next book?

Well, back when I was actually working on it, my book was called JUNIOR. The reason is that Evan’s dad was also named Evan. The fact that Evan’s not quite a Junior (they have different middle names) comes into play in the book. Even so, I thought JUNIOR was a pretty lame title, and when Macauley Culkin published a novel with that name, I figured it’d have to change. When Merit Press bought the ms, they asked for a title change. My wonderful agent, Victoria Marini of Gelfman Schneider Literary Agency, and I brainstormed a bunch of new names including In the Wake of Paper Boats and The Sweet Bitter. Eventually, Merit rechristened it THE NAMESAKE. I was actually kind of bummed to have a “used” title. After all, who hasn’t heard of the Jhumpa Lahiri sensation? But I’ve come to terms with it; it fits the story nicely. I can only hope my novel will one day be as popular as Ms. Lahiri’s.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Evan’s story began in response to family tragedy. My cousin took his life at forty-seven, and it got me thinking what it would be like for a teenager whose parent makes that awful choice. I was in my first masters class at Wesleyan at the time, Studies in Adolescent Fiction, and I took the opportunity to write a few representative chapters, which became the first chunk of THE NAMESAKE.

In what genre does your book fall?

THE NAMESAKE is gritty, contemporary realistic YA. I’d call it fairly dark and mature YA, due to the content. Evan goes on a journey of discovery to understand his father’s past – and why he killed himself. The realities of his father’s life are pretty heavy. Luckily, Evan has a strong sarcasm gene, and an outrageous best friend named Lex, so there’s plenty of humor to temper the heavy emotion.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Following his father’s suicide, Evan Galloway, a talented artist and A student, struggles to rebuild a life he fears may never include a happily-ever-after.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Book blogger Subtle Chronicler recently cast The Way Way Back’s Liam James as Evan Galloway. I agree he’d be a great choice. He has a wonderful regular-kid honesty and a great soulful quality that would really suit Evan. Bonus: Toni Collette, who played the mom in TWWB would also be amazing as Evan’s mother. Check out The Subtle Chronicler‘s feature!

Who is publishing your book?

My publisher is Merit Press, an imprint of F+W/Adams Media. THE NAMESAKE was actually one of their five debut titles. We’re supremely blessed to have the amazing Jacquelyn Mitchard, author of The Deep End of the Ocean (and countless other titles) as our editor-in-chief. Jackie was the first Oprah’s Book Club author, so it was a huge honor to have her call my writing “masterful.”

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

I wrote on and off for about five years, actually, while earning my masters, working full time and teaching part time. I’m definitely a “pantser,” but I also write sort of methodically, refining word-by-word as I go, rather than churning out a sloppy first draft. It’s not the quickest mode of writing, but it works for me. Of course, I now teach fulltime and have a part time job, but I intend to write my next book much more quickly.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

That’s a tough one. I think my book has some of the same emotional resonance as SPEAK, by Laurie Halse Anderson. It’s also been compared to The Catcher in the Rye and the work of John Green. Very flattering, indeed!

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

As I said, my cousin’s suicide got me started writing. The story, however, isn’t at all based on my cousin. Many of the details, though, are stolen from my own life. Evan and I are both artists, honors students and “good Catholic kids”; the school in THE NAMESAKE is certainly inspired by my high school. And Randy Spiotti, Evan’s bully, bears a strong resemblance to my own high school tormentor.

What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?

As I mentioned, there is a lot of humor in the book, some of which comes courtesy of the Alberti family. They’re an Italian clan who run a restaurant where Evan ends up working. Readers have called THE NAMESAKE mysterious and emotionally devastating as well as really funny, so anyone who enjoys an honest and unflinching emotional portrayal—leavened by humor and snappy pop-cultural references—should check it out.

Speaking of checking out writing with emotional honesty and snap, it’s my great honor to tag two wonderful fellow authors and good friends, Kim Stokely, whose historical novel Woman of Flames is coming out soon, and N.A. Nelson, award-winning author of Bringing the Boy Home, who’s hard at work on some great new YA fiction. Take a look at their sites for information on their amazing work. Here’s Kim Stokely‘s Author site: http://www.kimstokely.com
And here’s a link to N.A. Nelson‘s NBT post: http://thewhoa-nellies.com/2013/08/29...

As a poet, I tend to be leery of explanations; often that perfect last line is my desperate attempt to guarantee the reader gets it, that the message is clear. In such cases, I hear the voice of my dear friend and teacher, Edwina Trentham, advising me to “Trust the poem.” Almost always, that perfect last line gets cut. So discussing the life lessons of my novel, The Namesake, is a challenge. I’ll mostly leave it up to my characters to dole out the lessons, trusting my readers to find those they need most, learning them alongside the main character, Evan Galloway.

Still, without dictating meaning, I can say The Namesake, to me anyway, is a novel of faith, forgiveness, and love. While religion, Catholicism specifically, plays an important role in the story, faith takes a broader meaning. Faith—in self and in relationships, as well as in God—drives the plot. Ultimately, although he questions, Evan realizes that, without faith, life at its core is empty.

Another colossal lesson Evan learns from his doomed father is that forgiveness, that most precious gift, is supremely difficult to grant oneself. The scene where Father Brendan discusses forgiveness and love was a very poignant one for me to write. It’s probably the closest I get to an overt message, and it still has the power to make me emotional when I read it. Maybe that’s because it’s a hard-won lesson for me as well.

Without seeming like I’m channeling Celine Dion, I have to say The Namesake is also about the power of love. Evan finds, through its loss and through what remains, just how essential love is to existence. He also recognizes that where there is love, there is, inevitably, unimaginable pain. Significantly, he comes to realize that this coexistence of love and loss is symbiotic. As Evan puts it toward the end of the book, “. . . the bad stuff seems important in a new way. Like part of the recipe: the bitter lemon that makes the coconut sweeter.” One of my working titles for the novel was actually The Sweet Bitter, but perhaps I was being both too vague and too obvious.

Personally, writing The Namesake has taught me lessons of faith, of persistence, and of trust. There were many stumbling blocks along the road to publication, yet I knew I owed it to these characters to tell their story. There were moments of great doubt that I could do justice to the book, and I often battled that loud inner voice telling me this story didn’t matter. I found affirmation in the faith of others: my wife, Janet; supportive family members; good, honest friends. They believed when I didn’t. And I found strength in Evan—he’s just so freaking persistent—to continue, even at the lowest points. I came to trust that the story was there, that it needed to be told, and that I was, in fact, the only one who could tell it. The Namesake took me to some pretty dark and unexpected places, but with faith, I uncovered truly important lessons about writing, about life—and about myself. Now it’s time for you, reader, to find lessons of your own. Feel free to share them with me.

*Originally appeared on "Ashley Loves Books" Blog, January 17, 2013
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