The Making of Canadian Literature
(Scholar-Poet, Amatoritsero Ede, in conversation with Esi Edugyan, Novelist and Short story writer)
Amatoritsero Ede: Esi, we at MTLS are happy to be having a second chat with you. We just felt that our diverse readership would like to hear back from you after your two Giller Prizes back to back, almost. You had been working seriously as a writer before the rave reviews and literary success of Half-Blood Blues. How did it feel to get an initial and serious local and International recognition with that novel?
Esi Edugyan: It was honestly surprising. My debut novel had modest sales, and as a consequence many publishers didn’t want to take a chance on Half-Blood Blues, especially with its unorthodox structure and prose. It was rejected many times. The reversal of its fortunes was nothing short of miraculous.
A.E.: Looking at distant and recent literary history, most writers have to moonlight in other jobs to supplement their meagre income as a writer. With your Washington Black repeating Half-Blood Blues’ UK Man-Booker nomination and a Canadian Giller Prize win in 2018, would say you can now comfortably do nothing else but write?
E.E.: The main gift of prize recognition is the time it affords you to write more works – it has been such a blessing.
A.E.: What is your writing schedule like?
E.E.: It has changed enormously since the birth of my children – I used to write from 10pm until 5am; now, I work during school hours, from about 9:30am until 3pm, Monday to Friday.
A.E.: How do you manage busy literary festival rounds, so that they do not interfere with the writing itself?
E.E.: When I’m promoting a book I find it almost impossible to write fiction – this is the time when I’ll write reviews and essays and catch up on reading I hadn’t managed to get to when buried deep in a project. When I’m lost in writing a novel, I tend to travel less.
A.E.: What is it like being back in Germany for literary events in 2019. Clearly, it was a very inspirational place for you in the past because it made you produce Half-Blood Blues.
E.E.: I am amazed at how much seems new to me – I was last here ten years ago, and there is so much that seems, in a way, changed. There’s certainly a familiarity there, but it’s also very fresh, very new.
A.E.: With Alice Munro’s 2013 Nobel Prize win, Yann Martel’s 2002 Man Booker Prize win, Michael Ondaatje’s Man Booker prize win in 1992 and his Golden Man Booker win in 2018, your own two Man Booker prize nominations and the vibrancy of Canadian writing in different genres, would you say that a relatively young Canadian literature has come off age within world literature?
E.E.: That’s a stirring list, one that encompasses writers from many different generations – what strikes me looking at it is the reminder of how much we owe to Munro’s generation, who were really the ones to found what we now think of our national literature. Writers like Margaret Atwood, Patrick Lane, Dennis Lee, Gwendolyn MacEwen – they were the ones who recognized that Canadian literature could and should be its own thing, rather than a colonial offshoot of British literature, or of American literature. We owe them everything.
A.E.: I am sure our readers are dying to hear this. What does it feel like winning the Giller twice? You are only a handful of Canadian writers to achieve this.
E.E.: It was an astonishing thing, and I think I am more surprised than anyone that it happened. I am honoured, blessed, humbled.
A.E.: This might be a good read for other women writers… How do you manage a busy writing life and motherhood?
E.E.: You recognize that the balance will never be perfect – there will be times when you will feel like the work prevented you from giving more to your children, and times when you will set literary opportunities aside because your children’s well-being is the most important thing. I don’t think I could manage any of it, though, without the support of my husband, who is an incredible, very hands-on father.
A.E.: Given the professional uncertainties, would you encourage your children to be writers?
E.E.: I wouldn’t encourage them to be writers if only because I fear they would write about me! In all seriousness, whatever makes them happy. If they are fated to be writers, then so be it.
A.E.: Finally, we would like to thank you for once again taking time out of your busy schedule to have this conversation.
E.E.: It’s been a pleasure – thank you!
