New, bold ink

writer's canvas

What impressions could come to mind when told that one would be interviewing Paul Beatty, the winner of the 2016 Man Booker award, and the first American to do so? I keep an open mind at the recently concluded Jaipur Literature Festival, and make it a point to attend all the sessions that feature Paul to gather insights... besides diving into his award-winning The Sellout, a hurried buy at the airport in Bengaluru.

The first notion is that of a reticent writer with a reluctant voice. I’m reminded of an Amitabh Bachchan interview  where the thespian states that the moment people become famous, they are expected to have opinions on everything under the sun, even on lofty matters. I feel a sense of empathy for Paul as I prepare for our meeting.

The one-to-one is a pleasurable encounter, as it is evident that Paul has his feet firmly planted on terra firma, with his fame resting lightly on his broad shoulders. On first sight, a towering personality — tall and well-built — he bears a strong resemblance to the actor of yore, Sidney Poitier. Paul poses graciously as the cameras click away, before we settle down.

Growing up in a family where his mother is a voracious reader, and with no television and access to an eclectic library, Paul feels that this is probably the beginning of his romance with the written word. Though a reader all his life, it is only when he turns about 25 years of age that he starts experimenting with writing, and the realisation dawns that this is undoubtedly what he loves doing. This prompts him to drop out of a Psychology doctoral programme and sign up for a creative writing one in New York. At that time, there are no grand plans to publish, but just this overpowering desire to “enjoy the process of writing poetry.”

The lyricism is clearly visible in Paul’s prose and he admits that it is poetry that has provided the “genesis and backbone” to his writing. When questioned about the use of original metaphors, he is clear that “nothing comes easily” and that it takes a great deal of hard work, except in the case of an unexpectedly inspirational turn of phrase. Paul speaks of “ideas coming in dribs and drabs before coagulating slowly into something meaningful.”

Wannabe writers might draw comfort from the knowledge that things did not come easily even for this Man Booker winner. One teacher at the writing course asks Paul to give up writing poetry entirely, but thankfully, another teacher/mentor, the poet Lou Asekoff, tells him that he has something special going on in his writing, and adds, “People will learn to read you.”

A poem that draws criticism from a fellow student invites praise from the very same classmate the following year when Paul’s teacher, Alan Ginsberg, asks his students to read out their best poems. Paul explains that understanding for a piece of writing or art needs a certain expansion of one’s thinking and perceptions.

Paul’s favourite poem is published in a small newspaper in New York, and he speaks of gaining confidence and “investing deeper and deeper” into what he is writing. He also starts doing what is initially uncomfortable — reading his poems to an audience. Poetry is so prevalent in the New York of those times and this helps to further Beatty’s cause, when a woman writes about him and the New York poetry scene in The Village Voice. Recognition and fame follow when in 1990, he becomes the First Grand Poetry Slam Champion of the Nuyorican Poets Café, a place which has built up a reputation for multicultural audiences and zeitgeist poetry. The prize is a book deal, which results in the publishing of his first collection of poems, Big Bank Take Little Bank, a take-off from childhood memories.

Paul says that there are many books that have left their mark on him, but mentions G K Chesterton’s The Man who was Thursday and Toni Morrison’s Sula as major influences. He says that he is not aggressive, and though writing comes with wanting to be read, for him it is more the joy of the exercise.

About the political incorrectness that is being talked about, Paul says that he started using the term only when others began making a reference to it in his writings. He seems surprised when people mention humour and satire, when he sees these as organic and “just the way I write.”

When poetry palled, Paul moved to prose and had to wrestle with the shift from being called a hip-hop poet to being called a hip-hop novelist. It is little wonder then that Paul is averse to labels, which are “divisive” and limiting.

Paul’s advice to writers is to write something that people cannot ignore even if they hate it. Not surprising advice from someone whose manuscript was rejected 18 times, before a small publishing firm agreed to take it.

Paul seems to embody the idea of sakshi bhava. He speaks of speculating on how things appear to him in a different way from how others perceive them, and how this might have aided his writing.

One part of Paul appears a silent witness to everything that is happening around him, including the fame and success. The most important advice that I take back is what he inscribes in my copy of his book: ‘Stay grounded’.