Q & A with Arthur Bradford: Misfits and Mad Grandmothers

A_P: In reviews and descriptions of Dogwalker, the word "misfit" often comes up. When you were writing the book, did you consciously think that you were creating a book mostly centered around outsiders? Do you identify with them?

AB: I didn't consciously think I was creating a book about outsiders. I think those were just the kinds of characters I found interesting. I like misfits and I suppose I consider their stories to be more interesting than those of "normal" people. While I don't really consider myself a misfit I would say I'm attracted to that type of person and can identify with certain aspects of their lives. I want to talk to misfits and find out their stories. When I'm walking down the street, if I see someone with a misshapen head, or a woman talking loudly to herself, I want to know more. What's going on there? As a kid, I was very interested in The Guinness book of World Records. I read it obsessively, especially the section on "The Human World", the tallest man, the fattest twins, stuff like that. My father is extremely tall and I had always assumed I would grow up to be taller than him by several inches. I thought I'd be about seven feet tall. I was a big kid, sort of a misfit in that way. I never reached seven feet though. I'm shorter than my dad.

A_P: In "Mattress," a woman gets rid of an old bed for mysterious reasons. When you write a story like that, do you have the 'real' story in your head (i.e. the true reason why she got rid of that mattress), or is the mystery a true part of the story that even you don't know?

AB: That's an interesting question because that story "Mattress" is basically non-fiction. The chronology was changed a little, but that story was originally written as a chapter in a book I wanted to write about the life I was leading in Austin, Texas. I did go buy a mattress with my roommate Blake, and this woman did kind of hint that she wanted to get rid of it quickly. I wondered about that for a while, especially as I slept on her bed that year. I always hoped it wasn't because something evil had happened there. I tried not to believe that. This student filmmaker made a movie from "Mattress" and he interpreted it by saying woman had been raped by her brother on the bed. I never really thought something like that had happened. To be honest, I just figured she thought it smelled funny, but then later, I began to wonder. I think maybe that's what the story is about, the way you attach your own stories to things. That bed was nothing but good to me though. It didn't have any bad karma, except, well, we lost the box spring on the way home. Maybe that broke the curse. I'm a pretty superstitious person. I believe in stuff like that.

A_P: Dogwalker is not a children's book but many of the stories have a simple, fairy tale quality that definitely could be appealing to kids. Have you gotten children's feedback on the book? Have you written for kids?

AB: I'm glad you think it's like a children's book. I love children's books, older kids books like Charlotte's Web, Where the Red Fern Grows, Huck Finn, and Stuart Little. In Stuart Little, no one questions why Mrs. Little gives birth to a mouse. It just happens, right there on the first page. I suppose I wanted to emulate that wide open sense of possibilities. I don't know many kids who actually liked Dogwalker though. They seem to find it strange. My next book won't alienate them in that way. I don't have children yet, but I plan to someday, and those kids will be treated to some homemade bedtime stories, I'm sure. Then they'll probably politely ask dad to shut up and read them "Harry Potter".

A_P: How many of your stories from Dogwalker start with an idea from a real event?

AB: I'd say every one of them comes from some sort of real event. Some, like "Mattress" or "Texas School For the Blind" are almost non-fiction, and others, like "Dogs" come from me wondering about a situation I'm currently in. That story, the one about the narrator impregnating his girlfriend's dog, started out because I noticed that my girlfriend's dog was getting jealous of the attention I was paying to my girlfriend. I thought that was funny and wondered what if there was an even stronger reason for her jealousy. Then, as I was writing that story, my dog had ten puppies. They were everywhere in the house, running around. That was a fine time.

A_P: Did you get much flack for that story? First, the narrator has sex with a dog. Then, I could imagine some women saying that you portrayed Ellouise as a 'stereotypical woman.'

AB: My grandmother hates that story. I think a lot of people don't like that story. When "Dogs" was in Esquire the editors sent me an envelope full of letters written in protest about it. This one old man called it "Satanic trash" and cancelled his subscription. I felt bad about that because, like I hinted at earlier, I'd always thought of it as a sort of children's story. I guess I was wrong. As for Ellouise being stereotypical, I suppose that is true as well. I'm not so good at defending it. I agree the story is faulted. My next book will have even better characters, less repetition of the same oddities. I'll exorcise Satan from my soul as well.

A_P: Are you a slow, methodical writer, or do you write pretty quickly once you're struck with an idea?

AB: I'd like to think I'm pretty quick once I get going. I try to finish ideas in one sitting. If I don't, then I abandon them. I have a short attention span. That's why Dogwalker is short stories and not a novel. I'm working on improving my concentration.

A_P: Your book touches on the 'what if dogs could talk' scenario. Recently, an invention came out to 'translate' what dogs and cats are saying. Who do you think is saying more worthwhile stuff?

AB: Personally, I'm more interested in the dogs. Cats are so aloof. They don't even really like us! But I'll admit that cats are smarter. They'd probably have a lot to say, but I bet they wouldn't even want to share it if they could. They'd be like, "we want better tasting food, and more of it…" Come to think of it, dogs might say the same thing.

A_P: With the hardcover copy of Dogwalker, you had some blurbs from some pretty heavy hitters in the modern authors stream, like Zadie Smith, Dave Eggers and David Sedaris. How important would you say it is right now to get props from the right people? How did these people become interested in the book?

AB: Those blurbs can be really helpful. I myself have chosen to read a book because of a blurb. I think a blurb is more useful than a quote from a review. But even more useful is a recommendation from a friend. That's who I listen to the most. I sometimes get asked to read upcoming books and blurb them, but I don't think my quote would really sell many books. I've never given one. I'm usually too slow a reader to finish the manuscript before the publication date. In the case of "Dogwalker" I had met all of those writers before my book came out and done some readings with them, so they were familiar with my work. Dave Eggers and Zadie Smith I'd met through McSweeney's. We just got along, all being around the same age and all that. I did a reading with David Sedaris for Esquire and I was really thrilled to meet him. I got sort of drunk at the party afterwards and when he told me he'd read my stories and liked them I felt all giddy. In the morning I woke up and winced because I had these memories of slapping David Sedaris on the back really hard and yelling dumb things in his ear all night, things like "It's SO good to meet you man!" So I wrote him a letter to apologize and he was quite nice about it. I have a feeling that something about him brings out the odd side of people. This might explain his abundance of good material. Anyway, I asked for all those blurbs myself, which is a very awkward thing to ask for, but if you really want it, then I think you have to do that. Writers are pretty friendly people when you get down to it. We're all concerned that our occupation has turned us into losers and so we're eager to make friends.