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In John Irving’s latest novel, the main character shares the author’s profession, but that’s not the most important similarity.
They also share the same anxieties.
“The book describes what I fear,” Irving said. “Last Night in Twisted River,” published in October, is the extended story of Daniel Baciagalupo, the son of a logging camp cook, who grows up to be a writer.
Irving is known for novels like “The World According to Garp” and “The Cider House Rules,” both of which became notable films.
We chatted with Irving on the telephone.
Q. Did you have specific aims for the book, or are you just telling a story? Does your art have a purpose?
A. I think having a purpose is different than having a message. I don’t really write message novels, aside from “The Cider House Rules” or “A Prayer for Owen Meany.” (“Cider House” was about abortion, “Owen Meany” about Vietnam.) In the other 10 novels I’m more of a social writer than a political one.
Q. Many readers draw connections between the events of a book and the author’s life. Are you playing with that idea in Daniel Baciagalupo’s story? Is this metafiction?
A. I would not consider the book metafiction because I think it’s too interesting a story. The fact that Daniel Baciagalupo is a writer is not what makes this novel an interesting story.
I’m certainly being mischievous with some of the facts of my writing biography. The book describes what I fear. Everyone Danny loves and is afraid of losing, he loses. I’m very consciously creating for Danny the life I have not had, but I’m deathly afraid of.
Q. Can you draw a line between literary fiction and popular fiction?
A. I don’t think it’s an area that interests me. ... I kind of think you like what you like.
I’m on a lot of airplanes. Every once in a great while you see a man reading a literary novel. Chances are he’s in college and someone’s requiring him to read it.
Usually if someone’s reading a literary novel, it’s a woman. Without women ... all us fiction writers would be in trouble. Women read fiction, not just fiction by women.
Q. What are you reading now?
A. I’m reading a galley of a new novel by Craig Nova called the “The Informer.” The last book I finished was the Edmund White book (“City Boy”).
I’m usually reading a couple of books at the same time I’m writing. Sometimes I don’t feel as compelled as I should to finish them.
Q. How do you deal with misinterpretations of your work?
A. This is more apparent than ever now that we have an Internet. It has proved a tool for people who are lazy to take a shortcut. Too many people who interview me would rather spend time reading about me than read the actual book. That’s painful.
Q. Have you seen the Wikipedia chart that purports to show your recurring themes? Do you find it amusing or annoying?
A. It’s neither amusing or irritating. It certainly is trivial.
Bears aren’t a theme, bears are bears. The death of children, that’s a theme. There are frequently too early, too-young, too-disturbing sexual disturbances ... that’s a theme.
People don’t go far enough. They look at the obvious factual detail instead of looking at those far more disturbing obsessions that occur in my novels that are more telling.
The fact that I went to Iowa and Kurt Vonnegut was my teacher is really no big deal.
Everything (the character Daniel Baciagalupo) is afraid of happening comes horribly, horribly true.
That to me is really perverse.
There is a willful perversity in my writing that’s seriously, psychologically, biographical.
