>> Sponsored by the National
Endowment for the Arts
and the National Endowment
for the Humanities.
>> Amy Stolls: Hello and
welcome to the 2021 Library
of Congress National
Book Festival.
I'm Amy Stolls and I'm
the literary arts director
at the National Endowment
for the Arts.
And I'm here with Danielle
Evans and Charles Yu to talk
about their stupendous
books of fiction,
The Office of Historical
Corrections
and Interior Chinatown.
To learn more about our authors,
check out LOC.gov/bookfest.
And before I begin, I should
let you, the audience,
know that we'll save
the last 10 minutes
of this 30 minute live event
to respond to your questions.
And you can start
submitting your questions now.
And so, hello, Danielle
and Charles.
>> Danielle Evans: Hi Amy.
And Charles.
>> Amy Stolls: Hi
Charles, hi Danielle.
What an honor to be with
you in this online space.
I think if it's okay with you,
I'd like to start by asking each
of you to describe your books
as if to those listeners
who haven't yet dipped into
their remarkable pages.
Maybe I'll turn to
you, Danielle.
Yours is a collection
of six beautifully wrought
short stories and one novella.
And how would you describe
your collection or the stories
within the collection?
>> Danielle Evans: Yeah.
I mean I think a good
collection for me always--
the conversation the
stories are having kind
of emerges late in the process.
And I think what emerged for me
late in the process is that most
of these stories are
about, in some way,
corrections of the record.
Whether the historical record
or the personal record.
About implicitly or
explicitly what happens
when we give ourselves
space to reimagine
who the protagonist
of a story might be.
Or to experience that change
in the space of the story.
>> Amy Stolls: Boy,
that was pretty good,
a pretty good summary.
That reimagining,
I love the title.
It's the title of the novella
and also the whole collection.
Which I will state for the
record, I think I saw this
in the book, is a variation
of what you describe
as a researched institute
loosely under the direction
of the Library of Congress?
>> Danielle Evans:
With apologies
to Library of Congress.
I grew up in DC.
And so it's actually been one
of my like lifelong dreams to be
at the National Book Festival.
And I hadn't quite imagined that
it would be happening on screen.
But I'm delighted to
be here nonetheless.
But it was-- there was a
long time that I was trying
to find a way to
write about the sort
of human life of a bureaucracy.
And it took a lot
of trial and error,
but a novella was the
closest I could come to it.
>> Amy Stolls: Well,
it's a great title.
It works really on
so many levels.
And Charles, yours is
a fascinating scrovel.
I just made that up.
Sort of like a part
script, part novel.
Although, I think everything
you're doing is thankfully
trying to take us off script,
which is so refreshing.
How would you describe
Interior Chinatown?
>> Charles Yu: Yeah,
scrovel's pretty good.
It's, I'm going to guess on
a surface level, it's a novel
about a guy who lives in a
weird reality where he kind
of exists inside of a
police procedural show.
It's describing the interior
life of a background character
who doesn't really
have his own story.
So we're telling his story.
And it's written in the
form of a screenplay.
I think the way I
was thinking about it
as I was writing
it was I was trying
to describe an interior
space, you know,
a sort of psychological/cultural
place
that these characters occupy,
which is that they are sort
of sidelined and not
part of the main story.
So as a sort of lens
on certain aspects
of I'd say Asian
American consciousness
or Asian American experience.
So yeah. Scrovel.
>> Amy Stolls: Feel
free to use that.
I actually wanted to ask you
about the language
of script writing.
Just because it seems that
your novel, I'll go back
to calling it a novel, it
really is a wonderful novel.
Is it is bursting with
metaphors and new meanings like,
and this is true for
Danielle's work, too,
like the interior
and exterior and act.
You know, the Act 1, Act 2,
as in doing but also behaving
in a way that's not real,
that some director
gets to set a scene.
And even seeing which-- forgive
me, this literary nerd thing,
but a homophone, which is seen.
Like the opposite of
not seen or invisible.
Like you were really playing
with some of this, weren't you?
>> Charles Yu: I was.
I'll take credit for anything
you want to give me credit for.
I don't deserve it-- especially
when I don't deserve it.
But I was.
Sometimes I was playing
with so many things
that I tripped myself up on my
own, I don't know, attempts at,
you know, getting clever.
Underneath it all, though, I
was interested in the core idea,
which is telling a
story of a person
who really doesn't
get to have one.
So it's interesting
how that resonates
with how Danielle described,
you know, sort of reimagining
who the protagonist
of a story could be.
I wanted to hear
the voice of someone
that I don't normally get to
hear the voice of in fiction.
And so I wanted that
to kind of--
that sort of propelled me along.
Is looking-- trying
to hear that voice.
>> Amy Stolls: Yeah.
I-- let me ask you about
those voices, both of you.
Because I find that you
both address the idea of,
as writers often do, and
you do it in such thoughtful
and varied ways, both of you,
of how an individual's identity,
or Danielle, I've heard you
correct that and say identities,
particularly racial identities,
and how they're shaped.
You both, for example,
have characters
that it seems are influenced not
just by the choices they make
in their own lives,
but by the choices made
by their family members.
Sometimes going back
for generations.
And I use that word
choice lightly.
Because did they
really have choices,
I guess is also a question.
You know, in stark terms that
work in fiction, do they rebel
against the predominant
and painfully destructive
forces in our country?
You know, past and present.
Or do certain characters buy
into the narrative those
forces have thrust upon them?
And how did you navigate which
characters do which and why?
Danielle, I have a--
I'll ask you first.
I have a powerful--
there's a powerful segment
from your story Alcatraz.
Told in first person by a
young woman whose mom has come
out to visit her.
Can I quote you for a sec, yeah?
It's quote, "'You have no idea
how much you take for granted,
my mother told me the first
time I brought a white friend
home to play.
But she was wrong about that,
you take nothing for granted
when the price of it is
etched across the face
of the person you love the most,
when you were born into a series
of loans and know you will never
be up to the cost of the debt."
I wonder if you can talk
about that a little bit?
>> Danielle Evans: Yeah.
I mean, I'm really interested
in the question of inheritance.
Those kind of literal
but also kind
of the stories we
inherit, right?
The way we learn to talk about
ourselves, the way that we learn
to talk about what's possible,
and the way that that is
also a kind of legacy.
The way that I think
part of what I'm writing
about is the things
that feel thick,
the things that haven't changed
as much as we think they have.
But part of what I'm also
writing about is almost a kind
of internal migration experience
I think happened for a lot
of black Americans
where the world
in which a younger generation
of people grew up had
like slightly different
rules than the world
in which their parents grew up.
And sort of what
could be taught.
And what still needed
to be passed
on even though the rules
had extensively changed.
And what people were
sort of unprepared
to teach their children how to
navigate is interesting to me.
I think in general I
mean that's a question
of interiority is a thing I
come back to again and again.
And I think that character
for me, story for me,
is always about the difference
between our inner lives
and our exterior lives, right?
And that's true no matter
what a character's demographic
background is.
That what makes story possible
is some space or disconnect
or gap between what
I mean and what I say
or what I want and what I do.
Because that's what makes it
possible for something to change
or for something
surprising to happen.
And that's the kind of energy
that carries us through story?
But I'm interested in
the really different ways
that that performance
can happen, right?
That the gap between the inner
self and exterior self is
of course informed by
structural reality.
It's informed by sort of
walking into a room and figuring
out who it's safe to be the most
honest with or who has power
to in some way help or harm you,
or who needs to hear something
in a certain way in order
to understand it or
take it seriously.
And I think the more aware you
are of your structural position,
the more conscious you are
of all of those things.
And so, I'm interested in how
they inform character in a way
that I don't think they have to
be didactic because the response
to it is not universal, right?
They're going to be characters
who sort of understand,
there's an expectation
or an imposition
or a way they're being
viewed, and react against that.
They're going to be
characters who can lean into it
and try to make it work.
They're going to be
characters who try desperately
to find a way out of that.
And I think I'm kind of getting
to know a particular character's
path is always the fun part.
It's sort of getting to a
juncture and thinking about all
of those balls in the air.
Not just what this person
wants, but what everyone else
in a story wants of them.
And how many of those people
they are supposed to care about
or have to care about
in order to survive.
And whether that kind of self
preservation instinct kicks in
or whether something
else happens.
>> Amy Stolls: I really
feel that in your writing
and your characters that
struggle to understand.
And that interior and-- those
interior and exterior lives.
I know Charles, I'm guessing
you think about that, too.
Because that's in
your work as well.
I mean your characters Willis
and Karen in particular,
they grapple with
family expectations
and general influences.
And I actually wonder how much
financial hardships have played
into their identities, too.
Because you describe
Willis's parents, you know,
like they lost the plot
along the way, you say.
You know? And his mom--
there's very poignant part
where you talk about his
dad but also his mom, again,
in reference to the
parts she gets in movies.
But of course, so much more
that she weeps and she dies,
she weeps and she dies.
It's so-- sort of heartbreaking.
But I-- you have interior in
the title of your book, so,
how did you approach
[inaudible]?
>> Charles Yu: Yeah.
I really wanted to lampshade.
In case anybody is forgetting
this is a play on words.
I had to hit people over
the head with the title.
I don't know how I approach it.
I think I'm drawn towards things
that are basically
interior spaces.
You know, I've written
one other novel
and some short stories
before this book.
And a lot of them could
ungenerously be described
as plotless, maybe?
But I don't think
of them that way.
I think of them as, you know,
things that explore
non-physical spaces, you know?
The inside of someone's head.
And what that looks like.
For instance, I wrote a novel
that takes place inside of a,
you know, a universe where time
travel is powered by regret.
I don't even, you know,
know what that means.
If I had to draw you a picture,
I couldn't draw you
a picture of it.
So, all of which is to say,
this is kind of a roundabout way
of saying I don't think
I-- you know, as I--
I'm sorry, I just
kicked my table.
That was terrible.
I think as I was listening to
Danielle, you know, talk about,
I realized how much more
sort of vocabulary she has.
And how much more
of a sophisticated
tool kit she's using.
I think I approach it so
much more intuitively.
You know, without really
knowing what I'm going for.
Just knowing that I'm
sort of heading over here,
I think there's something
interesting over there.
And it almost always ends
up with me in this kind
of interior landscape.
So yeah. I don't know if
any of that made any sense.
>> Amy Stolls: Well, it does.
Well, okay, let's talk
about the landscape.
I mean, both interior
and exterior.
Because you both, like
settings for the two of you,
you both go to those settings
that are both authentic
and I want to say
authentic and inauthentic
like places and spaces.
Because they play
such an important role
in your storytelling.
As a reader I felt that.
Like Danielle, you've placed
your characters, for example,
in a gift shop on a
replica of the Titanic.
And you know, poised
to the mouth of a fake,
albeit lethal, thankfully,
volcano.
And a story which you've also--
places, I mean, you're also like
in Washington DC, as you said.
It's very present.
You know, where does, do
you think about the setting
and how it fits into a story
and you know, what you're trying
to get across with your
characters and how that meshes?
>> Danielle Evans: Yeah.
You know, it's funny.
Right before the book came
out, I started to panic
about a couple of echoes that
felt, I think in retrospect,
probably intentional but
at the time they didn't
feel intentional.
And my editor's assistant had
to kind of talk me down and say
like it's okay that these
things come up again.
Like the stories
are in conversation.
And then one of the early
interviews, someone was like,
so there are like
four gift shops
in this book, is
that intentional?
I almost had a meltdown.
[Inaudible] actually
six gift shops.
But I do love a gift shop.
Because I think what a gift shop
is is this very artificial way
of saying like let's just
decide how we're going
to remember this place.
Or let's think about the place,
the story this place is
trying to tell about itself.
And there's something
fascinating about that.
Because it's artificial
and also so genuine, right?
Like what am I going to
buy to say that I was here?
Or put on my shelf to say
like oh yeah, I went there.
And so it's a weird
space because it's both
like a genuine expression of
character and self in some way
and a completely artificial
experience and place.
And I am interested in
those kind of places.
I'm interested in
places that are kind
of telling a story
about themselves.
I think for me in the fiction
the moment where we're kind of--
you hold your breath in
are usually those moments
where somehow the past, present,
and future come at
the same time.
Sometimes they come in the same
paragraph, and that can happen
in interiority, it can happen
when you're sort of moving
between present action
and memory.
But I think often a kind of
pivot point for those kinds
of moments is physical
space, right?
Because every time you're in
a space, there's something
that you're seeing and
engaging within the present.
There's also in some way
every space is like the ghost
of what it used to be, every
space is kind of haunted
by either your memory of
it or sometimes by the sort
of physical remnants of
what used to be there.
And every space is
telling a story
about what it's becoming, right?
There's some way in which
spaces are always in transition.
And so I do think physical
landscape is a good anchor
for those kind of
really meaningful moments
that feel big.
Like life feels.
Like a moment that's bigger than
a single time frame can contain.
>> Amy Stolls: Yeah.
I feel that, like the
metaphysical space
that you can be past, present,
and future in a physical space.
And the gift shop, I
kind of noticed that too,
and I loved that, actually,
about the collection because--
>> Danielle Evans:
[Inaudible] did it on purpose.
It makes sense.
>> Amy Stolls: Because
metaphorically speaking,
like you just-- there's
some people who go right
to the gift shop in a museum.
And also, well since we're
talking about interior
and exterior, you know,
you can get physical gifts,
but what are the interior
gifts that you're getting
from these physical spaces?
Is something to think about.
And Charles, again,
it is in your title.
So we know that the
setting is important.
But you know, you're talking
about Hollywood and Los Angeles
and also not just Chinatown.
You describe, for
example, a restaurant there
where characters work
and an apartment building
where each floor has
its own ecosystem.
You know, that where
you, you know, it's--
what's interesting is
that you often do talk
and pull apart stereotypes, but
you get very detailed and human
in those-- talking
about those floors
in that apartment building.
And so, I just kind of
can you tell us more
about your setting
that you think about?
>> Charles Yu: No, the way you
framed that is so interesting.
And it's sort of, for me,
resonating with the gift shops
from Danielle's great
collection.
I, you know, as a--
in this book,
the Chinese restaurant is
a kind of composite space.
It's a real place where
people really work,
people really eat there.
And also, it's a kind of
performance, you know?
There's a front to it.
There's theming, there's
architectural motifs
and design elements and even
a kind of performance of the,
you know, Chinese-ness
of the place.
And it's, you know, populated
by real humans who may
or may not be actually Chinese.
You know, in this book, Willis's
character's actually Taiwanese.
But all of that gets compressed
and flattened in the sort
of front-facing performance
of welcome
to the Golden Palace
Chinese Restaurant.
You know, we're here to serve.
Give you an experience
of eating here.
So, and so, the backstage of
that is the kind of the kitchen,
where we don't get to see the
busboys and the cooks and people
who work at the restaurant
being themselves.
And then even behind
that, or sort of above it,
is where these characters
actually live.
The ones we don't get to see the
lives of, you know, in this sort
of TV reality where
they all exist.
We never really see the
inside of this building,
we just see the ground floor,
sort of front facing
Chinese restaurant.
So for me, it was basically
taking something that TV
and film compressed, you know,
historically is compressed
and flattened into two
dimensions, and making it
into three dimensions.
>> Amy Stolls: Yeah,
that's lovely.
I'd like to ask you more about,
and maybe someone will,
about writing for TV.
I also wanted to mention,
and then I have one question,
last question, before we go to
questions from the audience,
about that I noticed
both of you did this.
That you play with names
of your characters.
And sometimes you
give them actual names
and sometimes you give
characters just like labels,
you know, like kung-fu
guy, restaurant hostess
and inscrutable grocery owner.
And Danielle, you have a whole
story where there's like,
Why Won't Women Say What They
Want, I think, is the story
where characters are referred
to as the long-suffering ex-wife
and this is great, the
woman he asked to back
out of a grant they
were both up for
and ended things
[inaudible] did.
But still, like we're laughing,
but you guys are writing a note
in your acknowledgements,
Danielle, that you write out of,
you deal with grief
and with your loss.
And there's lots
of painful stuff.
And yet we're laughing.
You guys are very funny, too.
I have to say.
You guys are both very funny.
But language and tone
and when you're dealing
with painful subjects
but also humor.
I just wondered if any of
you-- either of you-- any.
Either of you could share
any thoughts about the humor
and the language and the labels,
for example, that you used.
>> Danielle Evans: I'm
interested in general
in the relationship
between humor and grief.
And I think humor can be
a kind of mourning, right?
One of the things you lose
when you lose a person
is all your inside jokes,
or all of the stories that would
have only made sense to them,
or the things that you sort
of laughed at, but you tried
to explain it to somebody else,
it would be kind
of a tragic story.
It's just sort of the
laughter was how you inhabited
or survived it at the time.
And so I am really
interested in where
that humor comes into mourning.
Where the humor comes
into a character's kind
of coping with a situation.
Whether it's kind of aggressive
or a self-deprecating
or defensive.
Because I think that
tells me something
about character and voice, too.
And the story that you
mentioned, I was interested
in playing with this
story that feels
so familiar that
it's exhausting.
And so part of that
familiarity was trying
to write these characters
as archetypes
and then giving them more
and more space in the story
so that eventually they
kind of took it over.
So, but it is a sort
of catalogue of women
who are unnamed, who sort
of exist as, initially,
objects in this other
person's story.
And then hopefully like the
longer the story goes on,
the more it becomes
uncomfortable, and then it sort
of breaks open a little bit.
And they become more
complicated figures
without ever having
been given names.
>> Charles Yu: I-- I'm sorry.
>> Amy Stolls: Go
ahead, Charles.
>> Charles Yu: Oh, I was going
to say something briefly
about humor, maybe.
But I also wanted to
take this chance to say
that I think Danielle's
collection is really funny.
Another thing I love about
it is the endings are all
so spectacular.
I feel like it's a
master class on endings.
Because each story, I felt
like could have been expanded.
Like I wanted to know more,
but then when it ended,
it felt both too
early, but also perfect.
Which I think is the sign that
you ended it in the right place.
So like one, how do you do that?
I can never end anything, even
like a comment during a Q&A,
I just sort of drivel off
until the moderator realizes I'm
not going to say anything else.
But I also especially can't
end a story, so I usually end
up sort of pulling something
out of my bag of tricks,
which is like calling back
something from the beginning,
you know, that's
sort of my ending.
But yeah. Amazing endings--
>> Danielle Evans: I disagree.
I think that you can end
a story quite beautifully.
But thank you.
>> Charles Yu: I [inaudible].
>> Amy Stolls: I'm going to--
because I realize that we have--
I want to get to questions.
I'm going to throw a
question out to you
and while you're answering,
I'm going to go look
at the questions and then
feed you some questions
from the audience.
But the question is from
the National Book Festival
and it's also, you know,
the theme of the National Book
Festival this year is open a
book, open the world.
And we're asking the
authors, our authors,
how have books opened
the world for you?
Charles, do you want
to start us off?
>> Charles Yu: Sure.
I could go a lot of
places with that.
I mean, I always feel better--
when I'm feeling really bad,
which is a lot lately, I
feel better after reading.
I just had the chance to
reread Danielle's book.
And to be reminded that
there are, you know,
people out there
doing work like this.
And that this connects
us in a way deeper
and less direct,
but more profound.
You know, across space and time.
To be connected with
someone's fiction
like this is an incredible
reminder of the, you know,
empathy and intelligence
and so it gives me hope.
I mean, I don't know if
that's any kind of answer,
but you know, I literally just
finished Danielle's book again.
So that's what's on my mind.
It's-- it made me
feel better, yeah.
>> Danielle Evans: I feel like--
and I'm worried that you were
very sad before you read my book
if it uplifted you.
>> Charles Yu: I didn't
say it was uplifting,
I'm just saying it was
a really good book.
>> Danielle Evans: Yeah, no, I
think that there is something
about going back to a book.
Especially, I think I'm in a
phase where I'm doing a lot
of rereading and
looking at books
that I read sometimes
a long time ago.
And it can feel like
a letter from someone
who survived something
or a letter
from sometimes an earlier
version of yourself
because you're in conversation
with every version of you
that read that book before.
I do think that it's
a tough time
to remind yourself why you
wanted to be an artist.
I think that sort of there are
so many different kinds
of disasters winning.
And thinking about the ways in
which every person who ever sat
down and wrote a
book was in some--
afraid of something
in the moment
that could have ended
the world as it would.
And in many cases, there
are artists from communities
where something did
happen that was apocalyptic
for their particular
community, right?
And that they sort of made
the space to create a document
of what it felt like to be
alive is something that sort
of I can return to as having
both the kind of tempered hope
for the future and also a hope
that someday someone might be
able to sort of find my work
in a place where they need it.
>> Amy Stolls: Oh,
that's beautiful.
I'm sorry, I can't
find the folks--
could somebody send me
a link to the questions?
There we go.
Alright. The first
[inaudible] question's
from Julia [inaudible],
she says I love both books.
She really loves both books.
And the question, so Danielle,
what historical and fact,
which is in quotes,
would you most
like to correct in real life?
>> Danielle Evans: I
don't know, because I feel
like corrections always open
up another kind of understory.
I think that the
historical period
that I wish people understood
better, and I think we are--
you're getting there,
there's lots
of really great nonfiction
just in the last couple
of years that's sort of dealing
with this is the
post-Reconstruction period.
I think it's sort of wildly
under taught and misunderstood.
And it's a sort of
gap in US history.
Not a gap in history,
but a gap in a lot
of people's understanding
of US history.
Without which kind of nothing
that happens subsequently
makes sense.
Or a period of which
we told ourselves kind
of particular stories
that erased the kind
of complicated work
that was done
and then undone during
that period.
And I think we have
to sort of sit
with how much we're
sort of actively undone.
And what a sort of fear of
progress there was at a moment
when something could have
been different, if we're going
to sort of wrestle
with the way that sort
of cycle works itself
in the present.
>> Amy Stolls: That makes sense.
Charles, [inaudible] Emily
asks what has it been like--
you launched the book
during the pandemic,
but you really sort of,
you know, having written it
and then presenting and
winning awards and writing
and during the pandemic,
for either of you,
what has it been like?
>> Charles Yu: Weird.
It's so surreal,
I can't, you know,
I feel like my physical body is
fairly useless at this point.
I might as well just
exist inside Zoom.
It's been wonderful
in a lot of ways
to connect through this way.
And now I think I prefer this.
So I don't know how I'm going
to actually go back to having
to like make conversation
with people face-to-face.
>> Danielle Evans: I'm going
to pretend I don't know
how Zoom works as soon
as it's culturally
acceptable to do that and be
like I don't have that.
I don't know what that is.
If you want me, you'll have
to like bring me there
and feed me dinner.
I do not appear online.
>> Amy Stolls: I don't
think I have to pretend.
I'm still like philistine
working my way through,
but that's hilarious.
I have a question from Anna.
Which books or stories
or authors influenced you
as young readers and writers?
And perhaps that'll
be the last question.
Danielle? You want to start?
And then Charles?
>> Danielle Evans: Yeah, I mean,
I feel like there are
the influences you have
and the influences
you aspire to.
So I think my actual influences,
what I was reading as a kid,
were sort of hand me
down legal thrillers
and the Babysitter's Club.
And I do think it
taught me something
about understanding every
book is a mystery, right?
Sort of the plot of
a thriller depends
on asking a question right away
and then delaying that answer
in a way that's gratifying.
And I do think that even things
that are sort of not interested
in plot in the traditional
sense have to work
on some narrative structure.
And so I think remembering
kind of what drew me
into a story sometimes
comes back to me.
I also think that
there's a way in which
when you spend a long time
with characters in a series,
you sort of think
about characterization.
It also becomes really obvious
to you when someone has messed
up the characterization
in such a way that sort
of you want [inaudible] for
even a much shorter period
of time a character, the sort
of things the character might do
to understand what they would
do in a particular moment.
I think in terms of early
influences that come back to me
as a writer, I do think that
reading early Alice Monroe
and Edward P. Jones
and Eugenio Diaz kind
of made me understand the
capacity of the short story.
And made me think about what
you could do with the voice
in a short space that could
sort of add layers and density,
and especially thinking about
the use of memory and the past.
>> Charles Yu: I'll
answer quickly.
I took a class, I took several
poetry workshops at Berkeley,
and one of which was with
Bob Hass, Robert Hass,
the former US poet laureate.
And I remember reading his
collection Praise early
on as an undergrad.
And you know, the
beauty of his language,
the clarity of his
thought, was--
made a deep impression on me.
>> Amy Stolls: Nice.
Well thank you both.
We are at time with a
couple minutes over.
Thank you, Charles, thank you,
Danielle, for sharing your time
with us so generously.
And thanks to all of
you for your questions.
And keep enjoying the
National Book Festival
at LOC.gov/bookfest.
>> Charles Yu: Thank
you, everyone.
Thanks, Amy.
Thanks, Danielle.
[ Music ]