Bravery Comes With Practice: An Interview with Alexander Chee

photo of Alexander Chee
photo of Alexander Chee by M. Sharkey

By Nick Fell

The following interview was conducted over email.

You probably get asked this a lot, but it feels like something that needs to be covered, especially in a publication for college students: what is/was your journey to the literary arts? Have you always been passionate about writing? 

Most of this is in my essay collection, but maybe what isn’t perhaps is this: I was a passionate reader as a child, more or less compulsive. But I also loved inventing stories, for myself and then for others. The first book I made up was for a book report in grade school. I did it to see if I could get away with it—could I invent a book in a book report such that my teacher wouldn’t catch it? I got away with it, and while I never felt the need to do this again, I was hooked on the idea of making something up (and getting away with it). If this seems dark, it could have been. 

What I found next was Dungeons & Dragons, as a Dungeon Master, which taught me the power of storytelling. And then a teacher in high school encouraged us to write journals, and that is where I learned to tell a story about myself that was true, as it were. I wrote my first poems in that journal, and he encouraged me to send them to a contest, which I then won.

Writing let me take the good (reading a lot) and the bad (seeing what I could get people to believe) and put it into the service of art. Using these powers for good, basically. 

Yiyun Li Grapples with Loss in “Where Reasons End”

Cover of "Where Reasons End" by Yiyun Li

By Freddy Caione

Yiyun Li, in her most recent novel, “Where Reasons End,” delves into the pain of losing her 16-year-old son to suicide. Narrated by a mother whose son has recently taken his own life, this heartfelt book becomes the only remaining medium through which Li can converse with her child. Li writes, “We once gave Nikolai a life of flesh and blood; and I’m doing It over again, this time by words.”  She creates a moment outside of the liminal journey of life towards death in order to convey a world outside of time – “a world made up by words, and words only. No images, no sounds.”

The Power of Sex: C.S. Pacat’s “Captive Prince”

By Oliver FostenBook cover of Captive Prince

It’s easy to expect a quick, smutty novel when picking up “Captive Prince” by C.S. Pacat, the first of a series comprised of three books and four short stories. Beyond the usual warning on the jacket that the book is for mature audiences only, the dramatis personae make it explicitly clear how central dominant and submissive dynamics are to the plot. Let’s not kid ourselves here: this novel is about sex, just not in the way I was remotely expecting. There’s no ripping off of lacy shirts or questionable absence of lube just as there are no tender embraces or rough moments of unhinged passion. Nope, all the horizontal monster-mashing here is about control, gain, and putting more at risk than just the well-being of your genitals.  

The Gut-Punch of “Conversation With Friends”

Cover of "Conversations With Friends" by Sally Rooney

By Alice Gelber

“I’m just not very emotional,” says Frances, the cool and somewhat masochistic narrator of Sally Rooney’s debut novel, “Conversations With Friends.” To this, her best friend, and ex-girlfriend, Bobbi, responds, “I don’t think ‘unemotional’ is a quality someone can have.” While Frances spends much of “Conversations with Friends convincing us that she is detached, impersonal, and unfeeling, every line of Rooney’s first novel feels like a punch, leaving the reader drained, but somehow begging for more. Her spartan sentences and nonchalant dialogue–free from quotation marks–disguise the torturous emotional undercurrent that runs through the novel. And, like Frances, the narrative moves with the pain, sometimes enjoying it, sometimes despising it, but always submitting to it.