ANN BEATTIE: ELEVATING THE STATE OF SHORT STORIES
By Paul Freeman [2015 Interview] Ann Beattie has been impressing readers from the time her first novel, "Chilly Scenes of Winter," was launched. It was adapted into the 1979 cult film directed by Joan Micklin Silver and starring John Heard, Mary Beth Hurt and Peter Riegert. We interviewed the award-winning author in 2015 upon the release of a short story collection, "The State We're In: Maine Stories." Since then, Beattie has also published another collection, 2017's "The Accomplished Guest," as well as the 2019 novel "A Wonderful Stroke of Luck." Great writers help us figure out the state we're in. And Ann Beattie, one of our best and brightest, offers another treasure trove of entertainment and enlightenment in her new collection, "The State We're In: Maine Stories" (Scribner). This marks Beattie's 19th published book, 11 of which have been collections. Of the new book, Publishers Weekly says, "The collection demonstrates Beattie's craftsmanship, precise language, and her knack for revealing psychological truths." People magazine comments, "Short-story queen Beattie is back with her first new collection in 10 years…It's nice to hear her voice again." Though it's her first collection in a decade, it certainly hasn't been a fallow time for Beattie. During that period, more than two dozen stories have been printed in such publications as Granta, McSweeney's, The Paris Review, Salamagundi and VQR. "These 15 stories just happened to make a book of their own," Beattie says simply of the tales in "The State We're In." The characters are placed mostly in Maine settings, but the locale is not the main thing. Beattie divides her time between Maine and Key West, Florida. Asked about the magic of Maine and its lack of distractions, compared to New York, Beattie tells Pop Culture Classics, "I know it makes me sound like a real downer, but I don't think I believe in 'magical,' as applied to places. Nature holds the trump card, every time - but that's not restricted to Maine, and I don't think of the state that way. I don't know what it would be like to live in New York City now (though I don't actively wish to be back there), so I don't know whether that would be helpful, or not. "When I write, I'm not distracted. I mean -- I am, but I don't pick up the phone, and I close the door, and I'm married to a man who doesn't expect dinner. He hopes for dinner, but that's different." Beattie, 67, is married to painter Lincoln Perry. A native of Washington, D.C., her first book of short stories, "Distortions," was published in 1976. Beattie's first novel, "Chilly Scenes of Winter," was made into a film. The stories Beattie published in the New Yorker over the decades influenced countless writers. She has received the Pen/Malamud and Rea awards for short story and has helped the format to enjoy a resurgence in popularity. She finds a word, a phrase, a character behavior that's perhaps unexpected, yet genuine, so very right. Her work is subtly detailed. Beattie can make something marvelous out of minutiae. Witty and wise, she epitomizes artistry without affectation. In "The State We're In," whether she's introducing us to a sassy, alienated teenage girl, a struggling baby bird or a septuagenarian poet who encounters an equally lonely IRS agent, Beattie makes every moment intriguing. She's breathtakingly perceptive, but is Beattie ceaselessly in the observation mode, noting and analyzing everyone and everything around her? "If I answered yes, wouldn't people be afraid to invite me to dinner?" Though she has penned novels, Beattie's primary form of creative self-expression has been the short story. Did I say "form"? "I guess, because I quibble with that perfectly ok word, 'form,' I don't have a prototype of a story in my head, and that is very freeing. As for its rewards and challenges, they are too many to name. One nice thing is that if I'm lucky, I can get a very rough draft in one sitting, or more likely one day. Then the work begins. Challenges? That in stories, as in every other literary genre, I want to write things that resist paraphrase." Her language isn't flowery, but fluid, functional and deceptively elegant. She artfully manages to lead the reader to something unexpected. Rich in memory and imagination, she relies on keen observations and allows readers to make their own judgments on characters' actions. The reader may learn much about the human condition from her stories, but Beattie doesn't expect each of her projects to reveal to her something about her own psyche or soul. "It's not the way I think about things... I'm not writing to discover myself, no. Therefore, it's not something I can take away as a lesson or an ideal, or anything like that. Like every other writer, I want to be a better writer - but things other than what one writes determine that, I suspect," Beattie says. Nor is she actively looking for life's mysteries to explore in her writing. "I don't see how anyone could live in this world without being mystified a lot of the time, so it's not a question of seeking things out. Something that would not appear to the reader as at all mysterious might be very puzzling to me. As a writer, you have to be on guard not to settle mysteries, or to pose everything as a question or riddle. It's tempting, but it's also annoying, so I try to avoid that." Readers embrace Beattie's diverse characters and when the last sentences of their stories end, we ponder where their roads lead from that point onward. It's not easy to let go of prose as quietly powerful as Beattie's. Beattie says, "I hope to make the reader temporarily experience an emotion, or a state of mind, that is somewhat, but only somewhat, guided by what I write. Readers are smart, and they have to be allowed to read into a text. "It's no different than eating a good (or bad) meal, or listening to music, or watching tennis on TV, or washing the dog (not cat), I always hope people get through everything and retain the essence of what they are, with perhaps a bit more insight or laughter or, frankly, despair. It's always interesting to hear what readers think -- sometimes I'm enlightened by the interpretations they offer. The question always is: have they read the material, itself? Then it's perfectly fine to go from there." |