Showing posts with label sarah gorham. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sarah gorham. Show all posts

Thursday, February 21, 2013

An Interview with Sarah Gorham

 
When I first started taking my writing seriously, one of the biggest problems I faced was finding new writers and works, new examples of essay collections to seek out and study. True, there are countless options in literary journals, countless Best American collections and anthologies, but I've always been more interested in reading long-form essays and collections. There's something wonderful about spending more than 10-15 pages with a writer, seeing the new expression that forms in the collage of subjects covered, their juxtapositions, the white narrative spaces between them.
It became much easier to find these collections once I found publishers that were as passionate about the form as I was. One of those publishers was Sarabande Books. Lia Purpura's On Looking was particularly powerful in shaping my tastes in lyric essays, and many of their other titles (including their fiction and poetry offerings) have continued to help me see what great literature is capable of doing.
I had the privilege of having an email conversation with Sarabande's President & Editor-in-Chief, Sarah Gorham. I asked her for her thoughts on the essay collection, as well as Sarabande's philosophy on what they look for when publishing some of the best literary nonfiction today:

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Most of the essay collections being published today seem to be compilations of shorter nonfiction works by writers already established in other genres. I'm thinking of collections like Jonathan Franzen's Farther Away or DFW's recently released Both Flesh and Not: Not that these collections aren't engaging, but it seems like the purpose of such collections (ones that include book reviews, craft talks, etc) is not to celebrate the nonfiction work, but to better inform the audience of the author's fiction. Counter to that, I see a majority of Sarabande's recent essay collections--Let me Clear my Throat, Syzygy, Beauty, and Dear Sound of Footstep, If you Knew then What I Know Now--tend to be first books. Is seeking out first books of particular interest to you as a publisher? Is it just a happy coincidence?

I think the first thing to point out is that all the Sarabande titles you mentioned are book-length essays. The pieces form a unified whole as well as working individually. We do receive miscellanies-reprinted reviews, craft talks, dissertations, and the like-but almost uniformly turn them down. We're not specifically looking for first books, but debuting authors is part of our mission. Hopefully these authors will remain with Sarabande and we can go on to publish their subsequent efforts. We do treat them well!
I'm curious as to your thoughts about the essay collection. Do you believe it's important for a collection to have some kind of thematic connection, some overlapping narrative? Is it all right for a collection to be more of a "greatest hits" for a writer, not necessarily connected, but with a variety of high quality work?
The above response mostly answers this question too. Deny it though we will, there's a human need for story, a progression of dark to light, abstract to personal, however the arc plays out. We look for thematic cohesion in all genres, essay, poetry, and short fiction. Of course if all the essays were really blowaway-on the DFW level (dream on)-we would of course reconsider. That's pretty rare.
I am curious what you, as an editor, are looking for in a submitted manuscript. Particularly when it comes to collections of essays. What separates an okay-manuscript from a great one?
A great manuscript will have uncommon subject matter or an unusual approach to common subject matter. Elena Passarello's Let Me Clear My Throat is a good example of this, her take on the popular voice in all its carnations. Language too will elevate a book. Ryan Van Meter's If You Knew Then What I Know Now is a gay coming of age story, but written with such elegant, pristine sentences, not to mention humor and insight, it's hard to resist. There's got to be innovation and structural variety too. Primary is obsession. If the book didn't have to be written, why would anyone want to read it?
Scoping out your submission information on your website, I noticed that poetry and fiction manuscripts are only accepted in a limited window of time, whereas nonfiction submissions are accepted year-round. Perhaps I'm reading too much into it, but I'm curious if this is Sarabande making a conscious effort to focus more intently on publishing literary nonfiction?
Yes, we've been expanding our essay line steadily for the last ten years. Still, the actual submission numbers are overall far less than either fiction or poetry, so it's still manageable to view them all year. That may change of course. Some of the programs I've visited have asked for an essay competition like our Morton and McCarthy prizes, but I rather like our more personal approach.
Generally speaking, Sarabande is one of the few publishers actively putting out book-length essays and collections. We see small publishers popping up to publish poetry chapbooks, short story collections, etc, but rarely do we see the same fervor for the essay. As a publisher, I'm somewhat curious as to your thoughts: Do you think there's not as much compelling work being produced? Is there something about the form that's not as immediately accessible to an audience?

To answer your question, the new essays are full of stylistic and structural innovation, work that relies on white space, associative thinking, odd juxtapositions-many of poetry's characteristics. By their very nature most large publishers don't want to take the chance their readers might not "get it," if there's an audience at all. The actual numbers of essay submissions are lower, but I see that as an advantage: less to screen. On the other hand, we've had no trouble finding superb manuscripts.
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What can we expect to see from Sarande in 2013?

Two books are already out and receiving excellent reviews: Book of Dog, poetry by Cleopatra Mathis and If a Stranger Approaches You, stories by Laura Kasischke. April we present Patricia Vigderman's second essay collection, Possibility: Essays Against Despair. Speaking of DFW, she's written a beautiful essay on him included here. We're supercharged about Moth; or how I came to be with you again, a novel by Thomas Heise that could easily be called essay or even poetry. Others:

Easy Math, poetry by Lauren Shapiro (Morton Prize)
Belle Laide, poetry by Joanne Dominique Dwyer
Speculative Music, poetry by Jeff Dolven
Hymn for the Black Terrific, by Kiki Petrosino
Catherine, Laughing, poetry by C.K. Williams,
Red Holler: Contemporary Appalachian Literature, ed. John Branscum and Wayne Thomas
Fire Year, stories by Jason K. Friedman (MMC Prize)

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Creative Nonfiction's redesign, issue 38 of the new era

One of the things I picked up at, or possibly was sent after the AWP conference was the new issue of Creative Nonfiction, the first in their new redesign (for more on this, you can take a look at the site; they're doing some interesting expansions). If you haven't seen it, it's setup as a magazine like, say, Real Simple (which was/is a magazine theoretically in pursuit of simplicity by virtue of buying a bunch of shit to simplify your life), perfect bound, 96 pages or so, in a more traditional magazine size, 8.5 x 11". Gone are the boring litmag conventions of old. Now here are some nice design decisions, excerpts from their Tiny Truths daily #cnftweet contest on Twitter, bits of things that connect to bigger bits on their website, a bunch of non-essay stuff such as interviews with Dave Eggers, columns from Phillip Lopate, and a chunk of the now-everywhere (even the Colbert Report) David Shields' Reality Hunger. There's also their new section, "Pushing the Boundaries," in which they apparently plan to feature nonfiction that "pushes the boundaries."

I also ran into an editor of Fugue magazine from the University of Idaho, and they have a similar sort of section, where they run one experiment each issue. I look forward to checking that out. As for CNF, this issue's experiment (they never say essay) by Sarah Gorham, a piece (essay, obviously) called "Study in Perfect." I'd like to talk more about this particular essay at some point, but for the moment let me say that it is by far the most interesting contribution in the issue. And that we should perhaps be cheered by the small chink of "experiment" in the Creative Nonfiction definition of nonfiction.

I think we should also be irritated by the compartmentalization of "experimental" works to the "Pushing the Boundaries" section, both here and in Fugue (though I haven't looked at Fugue in a while so I can't speak to how it works there just yet).

When I say we, I mean anyone who appears in CNF's pages, particularly in that section. When I say we I also mean readers. I also mean writers. I also mean people.

(As an aside they have an early list of writers "whose work has appeared in Creative Nonfiction since issue #1" which oddly includes my name. I'm not sure where I got drafted.)

If you know me at all, you've probably heard my irritation about the term experimental before. As if any worthwhile piece of anything that aspires to art is not an experiment. Otherwise it's all just plug-and-play, which is to say genre. Pick your subject, pick your research, pick your standard narrative nonfiction form, and boom! there's your essay.

As we know writing anything interesting is not like that. And though most of the essays in this issue do not do a lot to interest me (a couple of the columns are somewhat interesting, however), they're probably confined somewhat by having to be on-topic (the topic for the issue--that section anyhow--is "immortality").

And I hate to think that inevitably the most interesting in the issue is the one labeled experimental and boundary-pushing. And the only one (apparently) written by a (gasp) poet. Yet it is.

I don't know if it's a good sign that CNF, which has of course published some very good essays in its previous 37 issues, is including this "boundary pushing" section, possibly curated by the forward-thinking Dinty W. Moore (I'm not totally sure about this, but it seems likely). More fruitful might have been to just publish these sorts of essays in the magazine without the label. I think we can all figure out what is boundary-pushing and what is not. CNF has always been honest about the fact that there is at least a boundary.

And CNF is trying to join the conversation at least about the expansion of nonfiction, so that's something.

But this shit still rankles: Oh, you can come in, but you have to use the back door. Stay in the small green room. Wear this sign. Don't speak too loud or you'll disturb the guests and irritate our readers.

And maybe that's it: the readers for the new design of the magazine are meant to be nonliterary magazine readers, which is, after all, just about everybody. So baby steps, right?

Hmmm.

One also wants to know: who is pushing the boundaries? Who is congratulating themselves about their pushing the boundaries?

Let me be clear: Sarah's essay is a lovely essay. She is an interesting poet and editor (she edits Sarabande Books, that published, among others, Jenny Boully's recent book, The Book of Beginnings and Endings and Lia Purpura, etc.). I don't think she's the one congratulating herself for pushing boundaries. I'd actually be interested to know if she submitted or was approached, if she knew she'd be the one to push boundaries here.

To awkwardly change subjects, this redesign and rethink of the magazine seems to me to be a mostly successful outgrowth of what CNF and the Gutkind editing and textbooking empire has been doing for quite a while, which is to be more expansive, pretty, commercial, and more (one hopes) relevant. I have to admit that I do feel obliged to keep up on what's going on with CNF, because the magazine is certainly part of the conversation in nonfiction.

(Also part of the conversation in nonfiction is Fourth Genre, who has a full-page advertisement in the issue, interestingly enough.)

And CNF is a whole lot better in this format, so I actually want to read it and keep track.