As teenagers, James Morrow and his friends made
short 8mm movies based on Coleridge and Poe
stories. Morrow went on to earn a master's degree
from Harvard University, then published his first
novel, The Wine of Violence, in 1981. His latest,
The Philosopher's Apprentice, prompted the Library
Journal to compare Morrow to enlightenment
luminary Denis Diderot, "A man who believed that
literature and philosophy marched hand in hand and
who was not afraid to discuss serious matters in a
comic tone."
For his numerous books written between 1981 and
2008, Morrow has received the World Fantasy Award
(twice), the Nebula Award (twice), the Grand Prix de
l'Imaginaire (once), and the 2005 Prix Utopia at the
Utopiales SF Festival in Nantes, France.
Morrow and I discussed his latest two novels. The
Last Witchfinder concerns a brave 18th century
woman who teams up with Ben Franklin to discredit
her zealous father's persecution of witches. The
Philosopher's Apprentice is the fantastical tale of a
graduate student hired to teach morality to a
teenage girl with a blank slate for a conscience.
James: For 0me, the greatest pleasure of novel-writing is living inside the same fictive world for
several years running, playing with its possibilities. The composition process normally finds me
drawing inspiration from the cultural mood of the moment, though by the time the book actually
sees print that same cultural mood will have shifted. I can easily imagine some posthumous
biographer noting that James Morrow always managed to be slightly out of phase with the
zeitgeist.
My satire on the Reagan-era arms race, This Is the Way the World Ends, followed in the wake of
a half-dozen Armageddon novels. That's probably one reason my publisher released the novel
with no particular fanfare. I like to think my treatment of nuclear war was unique, but Henry
Holt never figured out how to make booksellers understand what set This Is the Way the World
Ends apart from Riddley Walker or The Postman or Warday. Had the manuscript landed on my
editor's desk a year earlier, it would almost certainly have generated more in-house excitement.
A similar fate befell The Last Witchfinder, which features an unusual fictive take on Benjamin
Franklin. While I was writing that novel, the country in general and Philadelphia in particular
were gearing up for a Franklin tricentennial -- he was born in 1706 -- and I had high hopes that
these celebrations would offer me some promotional opportunities. Alas, by the time the book
appeared, late in 2006, Philadelphia had been "Ben Franklined out," or so my publicist was told by
an impresario who had spent the past two and a half years organizing Franklin festivities
throughout the city.
several years running, playing with its possibilities. The composition process normally finds me
drawing inspiration from the cultural mood of the moment, though by the time the book actually
sees print that same cultural mood will have shifted. I can easily imagine some posthumous
biographer noting that James Morrow always managed to be slightly out of phase with the
zeitgeist.
My satire on the Reagan-era arms race, This Is the Way the World Ends, followed in the wake of
a half-dozen Armageddon novels. That's probably one reason my publisher released the novel
with no particular fanfare. I like to think my treatment of nuclear war was unique, but Henry
Holt never figured out how to make booksellers understand what set This Is the Way the World
Ends apart from Riddley Walker or The Postman or Warday. Had the manuscript landed on my
editor's desk a year earlier, it would almost certainly have generated more in-house excitement.
A similar fate befell The Last Witchfinder, which features an unusual fictive take on Benjamin
Franklin. While I was writing that novel, the country in general and Philadelphia in particular
were gearing up for a Franklin tricentennial -- he was born in 1706 -- and I had high hopes that
these celebrations would offer me some promotional opportunities. Alas, by the time the book
appeared, late in 2006, Philadelphia had been "Ben Franklined out," or so my publicist was told by
an impresario who had spent the past two and a half years organizing Franklin festivities
throughout the city.
| Bill: You once said it took eight years to develop The Last Witchfinder. When you are writing a book, do you ever worry that someone else will have a similar idea and "beat you to the punch"? Is there a battle between taking your time to get it right vs. getting it published before someone else steals your thunder, like a Tesla vs. Marconi situation? |
