Adam Schwartzās debut collection of stories,Ā The Rest of the World, won the Washington Writersā Publishing House 2020 prize for fiction and was published in October. His stories have wonĀ Poets & Writersā WEX Award,Ā Philadelphia StoriesāĀ Marguerite McGlinn contest,Ā Baltimore City Paperās story contest and have been published inĀ Arkansas Review,Ā Mississippi Review,Ā Raritan,Ā Gargoyle,Ā Popshot,Ā The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review, Little Patuxent Review,Ā andĀ Saranac Review. A novella-length story appeared inĀ DecemberĀ Magazine. His non-fiction has appeared in theĀ Baltimore Sun,Ā Sewanee Review,Ā The Forward, New York Daily News, Sun Sentinel, Bethesda Magazine. Adam has an MFA from Washington University in St. Louis and for twenty-three years, he has taught high school in Baltimore City.
First of allĀ congratsĀ again on winning the 2020 WWPH award for fiction. The Rest of the World is such a well-written, compelling collection of stories. When I first read this collection, I was so impressed by your control of voice, point of view, language–all of it really. Think back to the initial composition of the stories contained within this collection. What inspired you to craft these stories and to bring them together within this collection?Ā
Iām now in my 23rd year teaching high school in Baltimore. Increasingly, Iāve come to see the world through the eyes of the young people I meet at school. Baltimore is hard on children. Itās a city that puts a lot of kids through a wringerāthrough grief and loss and trauma and all kinds of instabilities. (No doubt this says something about our country, but Iāll leave the politics aside.) These challenges force many children to navigate a minefield of choices. And, yet, many of the teenagers who come through my classroom are engaged learners who remain hopeful, thoughtful, determined and generous. You donāt have to be a writer to be moved by children in turmoil, but watching kids strive for better in the face of steep obstacles is inspiring.
I might also add that getting to know students creates a lot of resonances for me. What to do with all these resonancesāthe reflections, stock-taking, eccentricities and vulnerabilities some students reveal? Well, if youāre a writer, you invent characters and stories.
When did you realize that you wanted to write short fiction and publish a book?Ā
I began trying toĀ write stories in college. Itās exerted a strong pull on me since. I love the short story form. Thereās something about stories in general that feels all-natural, organic, essential, and rooted in real life, in lived life. As a literary form, I love the compression– how short stories lean into Aristotleās principle of āsaying only what the story demands.ā Some of the most profound encounters Iāve had with books have come from short stories. The spell cast by great stories written by Richard Ford, John Edgar Wideman, E. Annie Proulx, Edward P. Jonesāto name a few favorite authorsāremain with me years later. Writing fiction is so much about hiding the contrivance, and these artists do it artfully. These works recast the world for me and through language and character and narrative gave shape to certain experiences Iād had no idea there was language for.
For a time, the first stories in my collection were distinct, individual narratives, each set in Baltimore and each with its own protagonist dealing with her or his own troubles. But after Iād written some of the stories that would eventually go in the book, the scope of my concerns began to come into focus and a theme emerged: they were coming of age stories in which teens or young adults were introduced to some unforgiving aspect of the world. I realized that I was interested in making a book of stories about kids whoād been separated from their innocence in some way and who were searching for the right way forward. Eventually, I had a book of character-driven narratives about young people in crisis.
Talk a bit about point of view and how you approach it within this collection.
Four stories in the collection are told in 1stĀ person POV, and four are told in 3rdĀ person. I like the immediacy and urgency of writing in 1stĀ person, as well as channeling events through a narrator with inherent blind spots.
About the stories written in 3rdĀ person, Iāve had readers tell me my P.O.V. is a little wobbly or drifty in certain stories. But I donāt mind when writers do thisāwhen they alight from the prevailing 3rdĀ person limited to briefly inhabit another characterās perspective.
And many of these stories also revolve around young people. You seamlessly capture the lives of characters younger than yourself. Can you talk a bit about your methodology?Ā
Some students at my school go through a lot. I try to create a space where students feel comfortable talking about whatever is on their mind. Some kids want to talk; some donāt. Obviously, I respect both choices. But when kids do feel like talking, I like to think Iām a good listener and an empathic one.
Iām interested in what Baltimore draws out of young people. Iām interested in the ways Baltimore shapes teenagersā views of themselves and their prospects. How do kids hold onto their ideals when things are unraveling around them? In what ways are they sustained by loved ones and community?
Like many writers, Iām drawn to understand peopleātheir struggles and triumphs, drives and disappointments, the forces that shape our identities; the vulnerabilities we hide. Writing these storiesācarrying these characters around in my headāhas been a way toĀ transcribe the resilience I see in so many Baltimore teens.
Place stands out as another pertinent strand within this collection. From a writer’s perspective, can you describe your relationship with Baltimore? Sorry, I know this question is a bit abstract.
Setting of course is the stage for what happens in a story. And things happen in my stories. There are conflicts and fateful choices and fallouts that characters must live with.
Not too long ago I came across Elmore Leonardās ā10 Rules for Good Writingā and was struck by number 9: āDon’t go into great detail describing places and things.ā I sort of like this idea insofar as it prizes narrative. Nonetheless, I want my readers to feel invited to situate themselves in the places I write about, and I hope my setting descriptions are consonant with the lives of my characters.
Is there a particular story that you view as the anchor of this collection or that you gravitate towards?
I remain especially fond of āPavane for a Dead Princess.ā Itās the longest in the book; it covers a lot of ground temporally; itās a story within a story. It has an eclectic cast of characters. But most of all the protagonist undergoes a reluctant transformation. The narrative follows a young man who falls in love with the daughter of the owners of the neighborhood carry-out. Her family is Korean, and her parents donāt want her involved with a dude from the neighborhood. One night, just as things seem to be lining up for the protagonist, he becomes entangled in an altercation that he mightāve avoided. (Readers can decide.) Setbacks ensue and over timeāalmost without realizing itāhe finds himself on a redemptive quest that takes him down the unlikeliest of paths.
Do you have a certain fictional mentor? How do you view the role of mentorship that you provide to the young writers you teach?Ā Ā
Iāve had many great teachers. I went to Northeastern University for undergrad. The school was not known for its liberal arts programs. Its reputation was built on its business and engineering programs. But the English professors I had at Northeastern were wonderful and regularly said profound things about the books we read. They awakened my interest in books and writing, and Iām forever indebted.
Building connections with young people is one of the most important things I do in my work as a teacher. Everything else stems from it. Additionally, I think modelling my enthusiasm for books, writing and ideas is vital. Students see that my interest in these things is sincere, and that carries some weight.
My father was a mathematician; he could be unsparing when it came to matters of learning. I tend to err on the side of being encouraging to young learners.
I would love to hear about artists, musicians and/or writers who inspire you.
So many artists have inspired me. Two of my biggest literary heroes are John Edgar Wideman and Richard Ford. Though very different writers, each writes with a lyrical, almost elegiac beauty about loss and the ways people cope.
In general, though, many authors of disparate periods and backgrounds have written work that has spoken to me.Ā You read Robert Penn Warrenās āBlack Berry Winterā or Willa CatherāsĀ My AntoniaĀ or Ron Rashās stories orĀ The Grapes of WrathĀ and youāre left to ponder how did this author make something so powerful, real, evocative and beautiful, and could I ever make something half so?
Obviously, the pandemic hit in 2020, disrupting your book tour or certainly shifting it online. How has the experience of doing a virtual book tour worked for you?Ā
On the one hand, Iām grateful for the amazing innovations in technology that have made virtual readings routine. But giving readings virtuallyālike holding classes virtuallyāis a lame replacement for the connectedness of real people sharing a real room together. Zoom is amazing, but it canāt reproduce the unscripted immediacy of face-to-face interactions.
Here is the dreaded question: what are you working on next? I have to ask.
Iāve recently sprung myself free from a wee bit of inertia. I continue to write stories. Iām about half done with my next collection.
Thanks again for chatting,Ā Adam. Good luck with everything in 2021!