-Ryan

What I get frustrated with, from a fan’s point of view, is the way in which every interview is concerned with Ellis himself, particularly the pattern of events in his life (young, hedonistic, drugs, father dies, depression, his long term partner’s death, more drugs and depression) as opposed to any discussion about his work. This allows him to adopt the sort of set in stone life story of a character in a novel, a basis he seems to work off from in interviews by never truly expressing himself.

It seems, from reading earlier interviews, Ellis perhaps gave away too much about himself and his works. Maybe now he’s seeking to correct that by closing up, deploying, again as the Times in the UK commented on, his “defence mechanisms”.

Anyway, while we’re on speculation, I would also note that the first stop of Ellis’ concerns, beyond addressing society/culture’s ills, is identity. The more I read into the works the more I kept thinking Clay was a lot more autobiographical, a lot more like Ellis, than either Ellis realises or, I suspect, is willing to admit. In his interviews he always stresses this is never the case but one, in particular, always struck me as if Ellis could have been talking about himself even when he was discussing Clay. Having said that Clay “troubles him more than any other character”, Ellis explains: “The reason why he troubles me more than the other characters is because at least he has a bit of a conscience. Yet he still refuses to break out of his passivity.” Ellis, by writing and being so acutely aware of the problems of his time and yet clearly being a part of them at the same time, always struck me as something of a hypocrite.

Of course, all of this is conjecture I guess! And whoever ‘Bret Easton Ellis’ is (for the record, how many authors use their middle name in such an obvious manner?), ‘Ellis’ the body of works is more interesting than ‘Ellis’ the person; if this were not the case, what would be the point of reading him? Surely, the book always reveals more than the author.

I reviewed A Visit From the Goon Squad for the LA Times and it’s one of my favorite books of the year, not for that chapter (an interview gone very, very wrong) but for the way it allows the reader to connect all the separate pieces.

As for whether or not writers should be good interview subjects: a) since they’re wordsmiths, so they have a head start on say, musicians; b) they’ve got to be alone to work, so that puts them several social-skill steps behind, say, musicians; c) whether or not the work should stand on its own, talking about the work in interviews is one way to try to reach readers, which most writers find worthwhile.

I’ve chatted with Brett 2 or3 times (though the last time was maybe 10 years ago) and I didn’t get the feeling that he was doing some kind of stchick or giving me canned answers when I went beyond the boiler plate interrogatory.

I am of two minds about checking other published interviews (even my own) and have settled on not reading much about my intended co dialogist other than all or some of parts of their ouevre.

Apropos of nothing, I have asked some very smart writers some very banal questions—What’s your favorite color? or the like and received surprising answers. Ultimately, the “results” of a long form interview or conversation is. I believe, in the hands of the “interviewer” — I have always felt that if that conversation was uninteresting (though they rarely have been) than the writer is such. Nor are those people obliged to be exciting interview subjects—their work should be sufficient, no?