Love, a spasm that's impossible to give up. A conversation with Cathleen Schine

When I contacted her for this interview, Cathleen Schine asked me to talk only about literature because "the international political situation is too depressing." But then, immediately after, she added: "It's impossible to avoid issues that everyone must confront. In fact, they're serious." She is a cultured, intelligent, and self-deprecating woman, in whom the Jewish tradition of the family into which she was born coexists with that of New England, the area where she grew up. A few years ago, her decision to abandon the critic David Denby, the father of her two children, for Janet Meyers, the producer she later married, caused a stir, and only a few remembered that the letter at the center of The Love Letter revealed a homosexual relationship . Her novels are characterized by the lightness that distinguishes her character, but this in no way prevents her from achieving depth, to the point that People magazine called her a "Jane Austen of our time."

A few years ago she moved to Venice, California: “Los Angeles, with its climate and slow pace, suits my lazy nature better,” she explained to me. “ And I love my bed: it's bigger than a desk and better structured for placing books and papers. It's softer than a desk, and better designed for resting: it's the center of all beautiful things. Day or night, everyone knows where to find me.” In her books, it's clear that the heart of every one of her reflections is love, described as a spasm that is impossible to deprive oneself of, but which makes life worth living even when it generates suffering: “Love torments me as if it were pain,” she wrote, and “I'm in love. A typically stupid choice.” And then “you'll leave me, you'll forget about me. All men are the same. You just don't get it. Abandonment is a form of rape.” It is from these statements that I wanted to begin our conversation by asking her if she considers herself a feminist writer.

“I hope that many of my characters' ideas are imbued with it,” she told me, “but I never think, 'Now I'm going to write a book that expresses my feminist values.' Nonfiction is better suited to this kind of didactic writing, but there are many extraordinary feminist novelists, starting with Virginia Woolf.”

Are there others that inspire you?

Maxine Hong Kingston, but who is on her level? In my opinion, she is incomparable. She's a magnificent feminist novelist, but as with great writers, we should also cite her in many other categories: no one can limit her artistic moral strength to that single element, however important it may be in her work. Do you know who writes novels about women struggling against society's restrictions? Anthony Trollope. I'm pleased to include him in the feminist pantheon as well.

A few days ago I spoke with Annie Proulx about how the language of images has changed that of the written word.

But are we sure it's really changed? I mean, I know cinema has changed it in some way, but when I read something truly good, there's no separation between the image and the word: they're one. Instinctively, I'd say that the pace of novels has changed, but then I think of those 1930s films with dialogue so fast I have trouble following them. I wonder if autofiction has been influenced by cinema, and if it was films that influenced the proliferation of fantasy in literature. I have the impression that the influence is actually related to themes rather than language. It's true that no one writes in periods like Henry James today, but certainly the pace of life is as responsible for these changes as cinema.

Annie Proulx came to talk about the physicality of books to reflect on what literature can do better than cinema.

I'm reminded of inner reflections, but also of writing about writing, about thinking, and about observing.

Is there anything that cinema can do better than literature?

Not long ago I saw Hester Street, Joan Micklin Silver's debut novel in 1975. A month later I read Yekl, a novel published in 1896 by Abraham Cahan, a great socialist writer, activist, and longtime editor of the Yiddish newspaper Forvarts. After a few pages, I realized that Hester Street was an adaptation of Yekl, and that Silver had taken an almost sociological approach: her aim was to educate the American public about the trials of Jewish immigrants on the Lower East Side and the conflict they experienced between tradition and assimilation, and she managed to transform all of this into a work of art. Was it the result of images enhancing the words? In some cases, yes. In the film, there are moments, some quick references to behavior, perhaps a glance between two characters, that could have been in the novel but weren't actually there. Because I believe the real difference isn't the medium but the writer and director; their temperaments, their talents, their goals. So I start from the creator rather than the medium, and, with that in mind, my answer to your question is a resounding yes!

What was your reaction to the adaptation of “Love Letter”?

I was and still am extremely grateful that it was made. I was paid well, everyone involved was extremely respectful, and I had no say in the decisions, nor any desire to be involved. I wrote the book, and the book exists as I wrote it, and that's all. However, gratitude and kinship aside, I can't watch the film; it literally makes me sick. This isn't a judgment; it's a biological fact born from the toxic mix of my presumption and my modesty. Hearing your own words in a different context means hearing everything that's wrong with your own words, and also everything that those who made the film didn't understand when they used them. And then you feel nauseated.

Is it true that in the film one of the characters' professions changed radically?

In the book, George is a psychiatrist; in the film, he's a firefighter! This certainly conveys a more vital role. Perhaps he's even more of a man? Firefighters immediately project the image of a virile man who helps other people.

Do you think Twitter/X has changed the way writers express themselves?

I was a complete Twitter addict until Elon Musk took it over and ruined it. A few years ago, I read a book based on tweets, but I don't know if it had a lasting impact on me. I think what changed language the most was the advent of fantasy: even that book based on tweets had a mermaid as its protagonist. I think the Harry Potter books—which I love, calm down, Rowling haters—captured the imaginations of many kids who became writers.

Have you ever used Artificial Intelligence?

I'm writing a book that requires a great deal of research on the first half of the 19th century, and I'm constantly turning to Google, which has been appearing on my screen for some time now, along with the option to use AI. I've realized that it's often superficial and full of errors, and the only time I've used it effectively, it was helpful for the references listed under each piece of information it provided. It was a wealth of material, much of which I'd already discovered, but I must admit it helped me locate other sources. However, I've never asked AI to write anything: that's my job, why should I?

What do you think are the opportunities and risks of Artificial Intelligence?

I have a friend who's a professor who insists her students learn to use ChatGPT so they can control it, not be controlled by it: I think this is an interesting, forward-looking approach. AI isn't going anywhere, so it's best to befriend it and learn to manipulate it successfully, if that's even possible. Some people use it as editors, and I have to confess that I flirted with the idea of ​​submitting my new book and asking, "What the hell is this text about?" Because it's something I never know until the book is finished, and people ask me that all the time. But then I realized I didn't want this gigantic data thief to be my first reader: it's hard enough getting a book out and getting human opinions. I should also add that there's a very serious issue regarding writers and anyone else doing creative work, who aren't asked for permission or compensated for the use of their work: AI has no shame in this.

The time has come to get closer to political issues: do you think there is a way to counter fake news?

I sincerely hope so. I have only a few references left that I trust, whether in the press or on social media, and I read the rest to balance the bubble: a journey into the right-wing bubble to bring a little light, or even darkness, into my bubble as a left-wing woman.

What is the boundary between literature and, in general, committed art and propaganda?

The risk of propaganda always exists for those who create something with a purpose other than art itself, and much of it has to do with the artist's talent: the completeness of the work must transcend the message. There's also the risk that all this happens unconsciously: writers don't live in a vacuum, and there's always a dialogue between the world and the individual trying to decipher it. Sometimes you speak of the horrors, cruelty, and hatred prevalent in the world; sometimes you celebrate the beauty, joy, love, and humor that persists even within the horror. I realize this may seem old-fashioned, but I think art is as personal and idiosyncratic as morality can be.

You've just defined yourself as a woman of the left. America and much of the world seem to be going in the opposite direction: how do you think the left can be reborn after its disastrous defeat in November?

The defeat wasn't disastrous in terms of numbers, but it certainly was in its consequences. I wish I had an answer. All I know is the little I can do personally: I don't want to be an activist, I don't want to go protesting on Saturdays; I'm too old. I want to sit at my desk, write a book set in the first half of the 19th century, and walk my dog ​​on the beach. But I know that resistance is the only thing we can do, and some are talking about a new McCarthyism. In this regard, my protest slogan is composed of the words Joseph Welch said to Senator McCarthy: "Aren't you ashamed? Don't you have any decency left?" But the betrayal America is experiencing is much worse. The creation of a huge personal army to implement Stephen Miller's poisonous and deviant ideas cannot be confined within the confines of decency. The cruelty roaming freely in the streets and in every immigration office surpasses McCarthy, as does the rejection of science, education, and healthcare. He spread fear among the elite: the government and Hollywood; this danger is far more ecumenical.

Personally, I believe that Trump's success is also due to a reaction to the excesses of woke culture.

Obviously there's a connection, but those excesses arose as a reaction to the country's long history of horrific injustices, and in the end, we found ourselves faced with a new form of injustice. We long cradled ourselves in the myth of America welcoming immigrants, guaranteeing religious freedom, and keeping church and state separate. And when we realized it was just a myth, we told ourselves it was a beautiful myth and tried to live by it anyway. Now those values, never achieved but always sought, have been brutally rejected, thrown in the trash, and trampled upon. What a tragedy.

What do you think are the reasons for the current president's success?

The spectacle. I think it's nothing more than spectacle. People love chaos and think it's like wrestling: all show and no consequences, but that's not the case. We're talking about people who love the freedom to hate, but fortunately there's a half of the country, sadly exhausted, that doesn't think so. I believe the evil we're confronting is too painful for some, especially when compared to the sense of liberation some feel in the face of Trump's shocking transgressions. Once again, spectacle, always spectacle.

However, the entertainment world is overwhelmingly against the president.

What Trump has staged has other, terribly effective, codes. Think of slogans, even those of the left: they can be more clever than substantive, and they carry the risk of downplaying the danger. Conversely, Trump, compared to his electorate, benefits from the way he uses vulgar names to address those who oppose him, or from how he labels his horrific executive orders.

If you think the country is living a nightmare, don't you think simply writing is insufficient?

The role of those who oppose is to bear witness, and I'm convinced that this can also be done by writing: it's as valid as marching or sending money to finance the institutions or parties that position themselves in opposition. It can also be done simply by existing. Resist, persist, exist.

Do you think America has the antibodies needed to withstand this situation?

It's inconceivable to me that he doesn't have them. But the situation itself is inconceivable...

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