Each month, we will be featuring an interview with a contributor whose work stood out to us in some way. This month, we’re featuring Nels Hanson, whose short story “Yellow Fish, Green Shoe” can be found in our April issue, “Coasts.”

Hanson has worked as a farmer, teacher, and contract writer/editor. His fiction received the San Francisco Foundation’s James D. Phelan Award and his stories have appeared in Antioch Review, Texas Review, Black Warrior Review, Southeast Review, and Montreal Review, among others.

TGS: Where do you live?

I’ve lived in San Luis Obispo on the California Coast for the last 20 years, after I quit being a farmer. I grew up on a small farm in the San Joaquin Valley south of Fresno, graduated from college in Santa Cruz, and in Missoula, Montana, and lived briefly in Colorado.

When did you start writing?

I started writing at about 14 or 15, pieces for the high school newspaper, and then poetry. Adolescence coincided with a number of deaths in my close-knit family and writing was an outlet, an attempt to deal with pain.

“I spent a long time trying to tame a tendency to write poetry in prose—to learn to develop a style that still had lilt and meaning in the sound and rhythm of the words but was always firstly in the service of the story.”

It wasn’t until my freshman year at UC Santa Cruz that I began to concentrate on fiction. My initial drive was in poetry and I spent a long time trying to tame a tendency to write poetry in prose—to learn to develop a style that still had lilt and meaning in the sound and rhythm of the words but was always firstly in the service of the story.

 
In your bio, you state that you’ve worked as a farmer and teacher as well as an editor and writer. How have you made writing a part of your life over the years, and have these other parts of your life contributed to your writing? Or do they compete?

For many, many years I was terribly frustrated because there was almost no time to write. I taught English composition briefly and my writing stopped—I don’t see how writers teach and write, especially if they have to talk a lot. At least in farming I was out in nature everyday, my mind was quiet, and I could think about writing as I pruned trees or vines.

Somehow or another I always kept my hand in—I always read, which kept my love of language alive, and probably helped a deeper part of my mind absorb technique, plotting, etc.

“The ego retreats as characters step forward.”

When I’m deeply involved in a story or book, I think about it all the time, and usually encounter some synchronistic events that help me along—I think this happens to many writers. The long hours of silence and solitude probably create a kind of contemplative state where time dissolves and the ego retreats as characters step forward.

 
Is there anything that you find frustrating about the discipline or work of writing? (And if so, how do you work through it?)

I love to write and don’t get so nervous anymore about being able to, or getting started, and I’ve learned to love re-writing, which is most of writing.

I do sometimes get frustrated when I’m trying dramatize something complex with clarity and patience, to wrestle the competing component elements into a form that is necessarily stretched out in linear space and time. The really good fiction writers, at least the ones I like, seem always to be attempting to transcend time and space.

 
Your dialogue is so enjoyable to read. How do you approach writing dialogue? Any tricks of the trade that you use to achieve such realistic conversations in your writing?

Thank you for the compliment. In school, teachers remind you that people don’t listen to one another very much, that they’re mainly listening to their own thoughts and that’s what they express (projections?).

“I edit dialogue carefully, a trick I learned from my writer wife, Vicki.”

For years I was scared of dialogue, but I like to write it now. It’s in dialogue, in scenes, where the characters really come alive. I do try to visualize, to see the people who’re talking to or at one another, their gestures and facial expressions, the physical signals people give when they speak.

I edit dialogue carefully, a trick I learned from my writer wife, Vicki. I try to leave little leaps or spaces between each speech, to suggest other things are going on between the spoken sentences.

 
What is your favourite piece you’ve ever written?

I guess I have two favorite pieces, novels I’ve worked on for years, “Angels, Awake” and “Sleeping Child Lake.”

I worked on both books off and on for 30 years and grew to love them. I don’t know if I ever did get them right, they haven’t found a commercial publisher, but I’m happy with them. What is most deeply myself, what I most feel and believe, is in those books. So I did express myself, I had my say, and somehow that’s good enough.

 
Are you influenced by anyone’s work in particular?

I went in phases, as most writers do. As a teenager I was struck by Camus, then Faulkner, Hemingway, Kerouac, Marquez, Borges, Melville—and then especially Malcolm Lowry and Fitzgerald, who I think have each written some of the most beautiful sentences of all time.

“Reading is a dialogue and a chance for anyone to chat silently with amazingly sensitive and intelligent people across time.”

I feel that the work of Lowry and Fitzgerald and Kerouac has the most love and sympathy, it’s in their style. They’re religious writers.

I’m a big reader and an even bigger re-reader. Reading is a dialogue and a chance for anyone to chat silently with amazingly sensitive and intelligent people across time.

Most of you have heard the news that we’re restructuring the TGS journal as a quarterly publication in order to focus on quality in curating and editing.

In the spirit of those priorities, we will be changing the format of this blog as well. Our editors have enjoyed bringing fresh ideas and posts on what has been a very wide range of interests. I often say I’m lucky to work with some incredibly interesting people. I think this blog has been proof of that.

But all our editors are volunteers, and we’re going to switch to a format that more wisely uses their time, and also focuses on you — the readers, and the contributors.

The blog will now feature weekly posts, and will center around what we are passionate about as a team: the gifted writers and artists we encounter as we work on TGS, and the arts themselves. We’ll be:

• Conducting interviews with stand-out contributors from our issues
• Promoting noteworthy undertakings from great creatives in our community (concerts, shows, films, albums, open mic’s, etc)
• Bringing you posts on writers and artists (and creators in general) who inspire us
• Publishing all-new art and writing gems, exclusive to the blog

You can get involved by sending us your projects to promote, suggesting favourite local artists and writers, and pitching an idea if you’d like to guest blog.

Follow us on Twitter (@tsgreatsociety) or on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/ThisGreatSociety) to get regular updates.

Thanks for being great.

On this lovely Monday morning, I’m actually laid up in bed with a head-cold. I won’t make you endure ramblings brought about by VapoRub and cough drops. Instead, I’ll just let you know that some of us belong to a book club, and if you’re interested in finding some pretty decent book club guides, you can check out The Chapterialist book club blog.

Our most recent read was TRUE HISTORY OF THE KELLY GANG by Peter Carey, all about Australia’s famed bushranger, Ned Kelly.

Also, visit the Australian Government page offering you a peek at collected Kelly paraphernalia like the sash above.

And, finally, your last bit of Kelly coverage of the day: just this past September, Ned’s skeleton was identified through DNA testing. Follow the story here.

Have you heard of John K. Samson? He’s best known as the lead singer of the Weakerthans, but it’s his solo work that I enjoy the most. His songs are so filled with astute observations, with heartbreaking stories, and steeped in Canadiana, that some might call him a national treasure (I would). He released his first full length solo album last month called Provincial — a combination of brand new songs with new versions of his two previous EPs — and it’s a pretty great album. He writes about his home town of Winnipeg, travelling those long Canadian highways, and tributes to forgotten hockey icons.

You can listen to Provincial in full here. Or visit his site. Or better yet, see him live at the Biltmore in March (as I am).

Enjoy.

- Joel

So, a couple months ago I moved up to northern BC to work at an FASD prevention program (and now a diagnosis and support program as well). I am learning a crazy amount of new information, as well as meeting all sorts of new people. Many of the people I’m meeting are part of the First Nations community here, and so much of what I’m learning concerns their culture and history. And it is fascinating stuff.

Just this last month, CBC has been airing a series on both TV and radio called 8th Fire: Aboriginal Peoples, Canada & The Way Forward. The final TV episode (of four) aired last night, but you can watch them all through the website. I haven’t actually watched them all yet, but from what I have seen and heard, it’s a really well-done and informative documentary. Burns Lake even gets some air time! The radio programs are still running, and you can listen to previously aired episodes online as well.

- Linette

Runners Up

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell

The critically acclaimed author of Cloud Atlas brings a fairly straightforward historical novel about Dutch merchants in Japan, 1799. The story has a surprisingly moral centre in the protagonist of the novel’s title, a rare treat in an age of flawed and conflicted heroes.

Maytrees by Annie Dillard

I’ve never been a fan of Dillard’s work, finding her nonfiction too languid and drawn in far too much hyperbolic detail. But Maytrees is quite the opposite, a subtle, tender story of marriage and grace.

Top 5

#5 Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls

Walls is a master storyteller. In this “novelized” telling of her grandmother’s life, she follows her bestselling memoir with the same kindness of honesty that filled the first. Lily Casey Smith is a feisty protagonist, a tenacious, admirable woman. And Walls ability to capture Lily’s voice is as impressive as the countless stories of survival and triumph throughout.

#4 Nikolski by Nicolas Dickner

Dickner’s characters are a lonely bunch. Cast-off immigrants, forgotten family members, they’re all seeking connection amidst a rich history of artifacts. Each scene in this book is chosen with incredible care and painted vividly. It’s like scanning through someone’s scattered memories, bright red sparks where a moment left a mark.

#3 A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore

I’ve been crushing on Lorrie Moore ever since I knew of her existence (which is only 4 years, but still, it’s something). Despite publishing her first book in 1985, this is only Moore’s third novel, and her first published work in over a decade (it was published in 2009). A Gate at the Stairs is by far her most ambitious and greatest novel. Her prose is at once witty, insightful, and affecting. A quiet, subtle look at a post-9/11 America.

#2 St Lucy’s Home for Girls Raise by Wolves by Karen Russell

This is a fascinating collection of short stories! The world of Karen Russell is imaginative and complete. It is at times creepy, at times witty, at times heartfelt, but always interesting. And yet it’s more than that, amidst all the fascinating flourishes, the bizarre and the surreal, at the core of each of these stories are characters with genuine, relatable emotions.

#1 Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

Somewhere in South America at the home of the country’s vice president, a lavish birthday party is held in honor of a powerful Japanese businessman. In attendance is a world-renowned opera singer—an idol of the businessman. The party is immediately interrupted by a group of terrorists who take the party hostage. What ensues is the most beautiful book I’ve read all year. It is filled with tenderness—the smallest of connections are made and blossom between strangers. As one critic says, “It’s the most romantic novel in years.”

Last week, the show featured an interview with Paul La Farge about the evolution–or not–of the novel format. From the Spark blog:

Paul La Farge is the author of Luminous Airplanes, a hypertext novel. It unfurls a branching, non-linear story based on the links you click. The genre was all the rage in the 90s, but quickly puttered out. Now that we’re in the age of Kindles, microblogging, and iPads, are there any bold experiments in literature? Why are we satisfied with porting the same old-fashioned novel format to futuristic gadgets that are capable of (almost) anything?

The interview is about 10 minutes long–perfect for a coffee break–and you can listen to it here.

–Steve Jobs on globalization in Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson, page 528.

In Steve Jobs, the most Luddite product (a book!) ever inspired by the founder of Apple, I had this sickening realization that technology has taken us to a terrible place of no return. Now, I’m not bats, I drink the apple juice too. Remember unplugging the mice and keyboards in middle school because you knew it was going to take the librarian hours to figure out what wasn’t working? Yup. Me. What alarms me is the homogeneity that the Apple movement has created. I’m alarmed that everything looks the same when we were all supposed to think different. Ride the subway in New York and you will know what I’m talking about. We stare at screens. If your screen could talk what stories it would not tell? I remember when my Dad said that the internet was a bad idea because putting a credit card number into anything with a CPU meant sure and sudden fiscal doom. I remember when you couldn’t get a call through to your friends because they were on the internet on the same line. Remember? Starting the dial-up and having enough time to zap a few taquitos in the microwave before the MSN icons appeared. I do. Think Good Times.

I read this week that Don DeLillo doesn’t do email. How do you like them apples? He participated in an interview via fax, which was the fastest way to get a hold of him. Do you even remember what fax is short for? Hint: no x. I wish I could create the world on my own terms like DeLillo. People get pissy if you ignore a text. No email sounds like Siberia. However, a Siberia that I would very much like to visit. In all earnestness, I believe that the information age has prevented many of the choices that originally I thought I would be able to have. I can choose to behave anyway I want in e-land but there are more serious consequences if I am e-absent. I’m worried that in the future I will have a future spouse who asks me about my future workdays.

Future Spouse: How was your day?

Future Me: 213 emails. How was yours?

Don’t be afraid. We’ve seen the future and it is white and shiny and completely integrated. It suggests songs you will like and learns what movies you don’t like. It reads your emails and offers you advertisements on the side, just in case. It keeps track of your friends for you so you don’t have to call them. It’s a wonderful place really. Full of tiny black screens, more intuitive than anyone alive because they don’t need to ask you how you are feeling, because they already know.

-Will

Also be sure to check out Linette’s earlier blog on the death of Steve Jobs.

This “all-star, all-female quintet” lit up my dark drive home from Vancouver this weekend. Thanks, ladies.

Something like Philip Glass meets JDH. Imagine cross-breeding The Hours soundtrack with the Lost in Translation soundtrack.

I moved into a little old rundown house about two months ago. I was quite taken by its charm. One of the best things about old houses is that there are always interesting things to discover. Among the things I discovered here was this dresser.

It doesn’t look like much, right? But I knew it was worth saving because of the beautiful handles. Also, it says “January 1969″ on the back, so that must give it some sort of antique cred, right? Anyway, I needed a dresser, so shortly after I moved in, I headed to Home Hardware and bought some sandpaper, a can of paint, and a little roller. And here is the finished product:

Isn’t it crazy what a coat of paint can do?

- Linette

Ps. I’m not sure if this would get the ok from the higher ups at TGS, but here’s a personal plug: my friend and I started a little northern living blog. Come check it out!