Posted on: Sunday, March 13, 2005
Sarah Vowell brings her best to book
By John Mark Eberhart
Knight Ridder News Service
If you listen to Public Radio International's "This American Life" or browse hip mags like Salon or McSweeney's, you know her work — but you could know it better.
Or at least that's the way it works in "The Partly Cloudy Patriot," her current paperback title. Her next book, "Assassination Vacation," will be more narrowly focused as Vowell ponders the problem of political violence.
Meanwhile we fired up the e-mail, her preferred form for answering questions, and posed a few. Here's how it went.
Q. What are the defining characteristics of a "partly cloudy" patriot?
A. Having a heart full of footnotes — every other stirring of American pride is shackled with a little "yes, but." As an American, especially as an American woman — because of everything from the Bill of Rights to Pell grants and the pill — I personally enjoy more freedom than has ever been available in the history of the world, and I do not take it for granted. On the other hand, I don't think anyone should ever get over the way this country was founded — on not just liberty but also the extermination of the continent's original inhabitants and the importation of slaves.
Q. How does your work for "This American Life" intersect with your work for the book form?
A. They intersect less and less. The majority of essays in "Take the Cannoli" were adapted from "This American Life." I think four of the 19 pieces in "The Partly Cloudy Patriot" started out on the radio. And nothing in the book I just finished writing about presidential assassinations appeared on the air. That progression probably has something to do with my growing interest and, I hope, skill in exploiting each medium for its maximum strengths. It's why the last couple of radio stories I did for the show were about music — a history of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and the story of Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire."
Radio is simply the best of all possible media for talking about songs.
But mostly my writing has gotten more historical, and I prefer print for that. All the names and dates and places whiz by too fast sometimes on the radio. In print if a reader forgets Sen. Roscoe Conkling's claim to (sort of) fame, she can just refer back to the page where he's first identified. Unforgiving radio can't be rewound.
Q. OK, so what about this whole thing of offering commentary on society, politics, the arts and so on? It's kind of a strange occupation. Critics, editorial writers and columnists all do it. Why does Sarah Vowell do it?
A. When I speak at colleges I meet a lot of writing students who romanticize what being a writer is like, and they get all hushed and whispery and grandly ask, "Why do you write?" And I always say, "For money." Which is always a complete disappointment ... (and) sparks my nobility-of-earning-a-living speech. The short answer to your question is that it's my job. I honestly do not sit at my desk thinking, "I must comment on society, politics and life." I learned to write in college, writing art history papers, essay exams. And though there's been a progression of subject matter — I started reviewing art, books and music, then moved into the radio documentaries and monologues, and I'm currently on this historical travel writing bender — no matter what I'm writing about, it always comes from some personal reaction, from loving or hating something or being amused or incensed or excited. That's still true whether I'm reviewing a new novel (I really enjoyed Kelly Braffet's "Jack and Josie") or complaining about the president.
Q. Or, in the case of the last president, defending him. In "Ike Was a Handsome Man," you wrote of visiting several presidential libraries, including Bill Clinton's. You also noted how much time you had spent "sticking up for" a national leader who ended up being a polarizing figure (a characteristic, I think, that he shares with George W. Bush). So OK: Is it better for our politicians to inspire deep passions or simply to elicit from us ennui or boredom?
A. I used to think that — that I preferred elected officials of the loved 'n' loathed variety. Because they made for good stories. It's why I love thinking about LBJ and the two Roosevelts. But in 1999 I interviewed Steven Spielberg. We were talking about heroism, and John
McCain was in the running on the Republican side along with (Al) Gore for the Democrats. ... I had always been a little bored by Gore. And even though I disagree with McCain on some fundamentals — enough that I'd never vote for him — I liked thinking about him more, found him a more interesting public speaker. And I was starting to suffer separation anxiety about Clinton, knew how much I'd miss his ups and downs.
I said all this to Spielberg, told him about how much I liked pondering Lyndon Johnson because of those huge sweeps between his accomplishments (Great Society) and mistakes (little thing called Vietnam). And Spielberg said something along the lines of, "You think I care if we elect a president who'll make a good story? All I care about is that we elect someone who will make sure my kids have health care and education and a better environment."
I pretty much ran straight to a bookstore and bought Gore's ecology book. That was my light bulb moment with Gore. I
Full name: Sarah Jane Vowell.
Born: Dec. 27, 1969, in Muskogee, Okla. Residence: New York City.
Education: Bachelor's in modern languages from Montana State University; master's in art history from School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
Previous books: "Take the Cannoli: Stories From the New World" and "Radio On: A Listener's Diary."
Forthcoming book: "Assassination Vacation" (April 4). Q. The Hartford (Conn.) Courant called you a contrarian. Other publications have referred to you as acerbic, shady, fanatical and so on. But also funny. How do you take such compliments?
A. Fanatical? I think I'm way too wishy-washy to be a fanatic about anything, and I'm pretty proud of that. If you look back through history, all the horribly evil people were people who really believed in what they believed. I was just proofing the press release my publisher is putting out for my new book, and even my own people use words like "ornery," which I always think make me sound like a jerk. I'm a nice girl! Even my sarcasm, which is considerable — I don't think of it as bitter or ironic. I tend to think of it as just joking around, keeping things light, being a good hostess.
Q. I liked "Democracy and Things Like That." It began with a discussion of some of democracy's stripped gears and bad machinery, like character assassination, misquotes, media malfeasance, "spin" — but it ended with a girl who really did seem to be learning, from her teacher, the art of critical thinking. ... Do you feel optimistic at heart, reassured that this American experiment will continue to work?
A. I do. I do love this country. I love its hugeness — the Grand Canyon and Empire State Building and I-90 and Elvis and L.A. I have my doubts about, oh, Washington, D.C., on occasion ... But I travel around the country a lot doing readings and researching stories, so I get to meet loads of Americans. And they continually, pleasantly surprise me. I meet so many great people everywhere I go, and not just generically great, not just cookie-cutter well-mannered, but singular, fascinating, truly kind individuals ... Alas, none of them seems to run for office.
Sarah Vowell is at her best in her books, where the thoughtful pieces she has crafted on what it means to live in a big country can fuse into one seamless essay about contemporary America.
realized how good his ideas were, how hard he'd worked, how he cared about all the right things, how, even though he was a truly abysmal campaigner, he would be good at the nitty-gritty of workaday governing. I would adore having a dull guy in the Oval Office, as long as he were a good administrator who got good things done for the right reasons.
The Sarah Vowell File
