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![]() Click for words events Young Americans Akhil Sharma and Dara Horn, the future of American writers
Granta, the literary magazine, has had a long history of picking winners
among young writers. Its first Best of Young British Novelists issue in
1983 eyed as up-and-comers Ian McEwan, Martin Amis, Kazuo Ishiguro and
Julian Barnes.
Turning its focus on the United States, Granta launched a Best of
Young American Novelists issue a decade ago. For its second list, to be
published in April, Granta lowered the definition of "young" from 40
to 35, and netted a group that includes two writers who live in the same
New York City apartment building.
Dara Horn, 30, is a scholar of Yiddish and Hebrew literature who is
gaining recognition for her novels, "In the Image" and "The World to
Come." Akhil Sharma, 35, who was born in India and raised in New
Jersey, is a former investment banker whose debut novel "An Obedient
Father" won critical plaudits. Your novel "The World to Come" feels at times like an homage to
Yiddish literature--which was destroyed or disappeared, its creators
killed. Do you ever feel like you are writing into a void? Dara Horn: Yeah, one thing I wanted to do with this book was
correct an impression that people in this culture have sometimes about
Yiddish writing. People know very little about Yiddish literature,
Yiddish culture. And for good reason. Imagine if it's a thousand years
in the future and no one speaks English any more. And there's only one
book of English literature that anyone has ever heard of--scholars maybe
know more--and that book is "Romeo and Juliet." But the only way
people know of "Romeo and Juliet" is from a wildly popular movie
adaptation. Only in the movie, Romeo and Juliet wind up getting married
at the end of the movie.
I think it's very analogous to Yiddish literature today, since the
only Yiddish literature anyone knows today are the stories by Shalom
Aleichem, which people know from "Fiddler on the Roof." But his real
work is very different from what you see on Broadway. For instance, in
the real stories, Chava, married to a young Jewish man, is abandoned by
her husband and forsaken by her family. Did you grow up reading Yiddish literature?
DH: No, I learned Yiddish in college, but I grew up in a
family that was very involved in the Jewish community, and I learned
Hebrew as a child. In college I focused on a period of Hebrew
literature, late nineteenth-century, early twentieth-century, which was
when Hebrew started being revived as a spoken language. At that point,
the revival of the language coincided with the revival of secular
fiction written in Hebrew. What I started realizing is it's very hard
to read. And it's hard to read because you can imagine how hard it is
to write dialogue that sounds like someone is actually speaking in a
language that nobody speaks. So they had to invent slang; the syntax was
weird. And I gradually realized it was so hard to read because these
writers were writing in Hebrew but they were thinking in Yiddish. Who were the writers you read that made you want to write? Akhil Sharma: I read a lot of Hemingway. I read a lot of
science-fiction, mostly because I wanted to escape where I was from.
Hemingway made it seem you can be a writer and go to France and Spain
and have an exciting life. What were your favorites? AS: Well, I read a dozen books about him before I read his
books. I copied his style. As a young writer it was very, very helpful.
Most of it is set abroad - among boxers, around soldiers, very
specialized environments. As a writer born in India, it was a good
lesson, because I had to learn how to explain what a sari looks
like to people who may never have seen one. You recently retired from investment banking to write full time.
How has that changed things for you? AS: It's very different. I miss earning a living--my wife is
a lawyer, and she supports us. I feel bad, though, a little like a
mooch. Meanwhile, the person you are remains the same, but in the
absence of work your interior life, and all its insecurities, grows
enormously. Your novel, "An Obedient Father," had a lot to do with secrets
and lies and family life. How was it received back in India? AS: My relatives in India were very angry. I was surprised. I
mean, the book says on the cover these things aren't true. That these
events are made up, and they were. None of that happened. I borrowed
some of the places, and the stuff about the man's job is true. But the
rest is made-up. But they kept thinking it was true. You have to
remember, though, India is largely a shame-based culture, not a
guilt-based culture. So a confessional narrative doesn't go over very
well--not only does the man in my book do a horrible thing, he doesn't
have the goodness to keep quiet about it. Your novel feels like it came into existence fully conceived. How
do you achieve that effect? AS: I wait a lot. I pause and revise. I try to be honest--I
try to be very, very honest. If something feels false, I'll wait years
for the right image to come to me. There are other techniques, like
putting the noun and the verb near the center of a sentence, but those
other things are probably the most important.
Also by John Freeman Words on Pictures
Nonfiction Review
Mumbai on the Make
Strange Feelings
Palenstinian Consideration
Thought Full Gifts
Sky's the Limit
POETRY REVIEW
Without a Home
NONFICTION REVIEW
NONFICTION REVIEW
FICTION REVIEW
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