Your story “The Repugnant Conclusion” is tailored out of your forthcoming novel, “Either/Or”—a sequel to your first novel, “The Idiot,” which informed the story of a Turkish American lady, Selin, in her first yr at Harvard. What made you need to revisit Selin and see her by way of one other yr?
The choice to write down “Either/Or” got here instantly from the expertise of publishing “The Idiot.” I wrote and deserted the primary draft of “The Idiot” within the early two-thousands, then revised it for publication beginning in 2015. It got here out in 2017. So there I used to be, about to show forty, selling a “début novel” about my first yr of faculty, in an America through which Donald Trump, a well-known determine from my youth, was now in some way everybody’s ruler.
Every dialog in these days had a approach of coming round to politics. With “The Idiot,” that meant a variety of questions on what wasn’t within the e-book. Why wasn’t Selin extra politically engaged? Gradually, I got here to see “The Idiot” as a e-book about depoliticization. In an early scene, Selin learns concerning the existence of presidency majors, individuals often called “gov jocks,” and he or she wonders, Are these individuals going to be our rulers? I remembered that line in 2018, after I was listening to Brett Kavanaugh yell on the Senate Judiciary Committee about how he’d “busted [his] butt” in highschool to be the basketball captain and get into Yale. Yes: these individuals have been now our rulers. And I had gone into literature.
I needed to reconstruct, to dramatize, when and the way Selin got here to really feel that politics held no place for her—how she selected, as an alternative, literature and “love.” When I began writing “Either/Or,” I used to be a yr into my first nonheterosexual relationship. I had simply learn Adrienne Rich’s well-known essay about “compulsory heterosexuality”: a transhistorical, transcultural power ceaselessly working to direct ladies’s energies away from themselves and each other and towards males. In retrospect, I might see the traces of that power all through “The Idiot.” In the sequel, I got down to reconstruct and dramatize it extra instantly: how I encountered obligatory heterosexuality, the way it labored on me, what it felt like. I now consider “Either/Or” as a e-book written from a queer and political consciousness, about an individual who doesn’t but notice that she has both of these items.
The essential story line in “The Repugnant Conclusion” was additionally impressed by a handful of conversations that I had with “Idiot” readers who have been upset and even offended that Selin and Ivan don’t have intercourse on the finish of the e-book. Such interactions ended up being actually productive, since they enabled me to retrieve, even to relive, the sense of failure that I’d felt after my very own first yr of faculty, after I, like Selin, hadn’t had intercourse with anybody. Whatever norms these readers had internalized—I’d had them, too. Where had they led me?
Selin is filled with questions, about every part—from the construction of educational fields to the mechanics of intercourse. Why does she really feel so at sea?
That’s what I really like about writing from Selin’s perspective—asking questions. In a approach, it’s all one large query: How a lot of seemingly invariant actuality is definitely a assemble—one thing some man made up? I imply, why is data organized the way in which it’s? The world is described by these in energy, in a approach that fits the pursuits of energy. It turns into actually laborious to alter the descriptions—to even see that they are descriptions.
Take “the mechanics of sex.” On the floor, what may very well be much less cultural, extra biologically decided? And but, in the event you contemplate it from a lesbian or queer consciousness, it’s completely a assemble! What counts as intercourse, and why? Whose curiosity does it serve to rely it that approach? That’s not a rhetorical query; it goes again to the event of agriculture, to the connections between non-public property, inheritance legal guidelines, and the sexual management of girls.
As you possibly can see, I’ve a variety of solutions nowadays. But solutions aren’t an important place to write down from. Writing is about opening issues, not closing them. I really like that Selin doesn’t have all that stuff in her head but. The world and its descriptions are newer to her, she notices extra, she feels extra shock. She isn’t so complicit within the energy buildings, so she will be able to nonetheless query sure issues that I, with or with out realizing it, have way back come to just accept.
[Support The New Yorker’s award-winning journalism. Subscribe today »]
At the middle of the story is Selin’s friendship with Svetlana. What attracts these two to one another?
I feel it’s a mix of similarities and variations. On the one hand, they’ve rather a lot in widespread: their household backgrounds (Turkish, Serbian), their curiosity in Russian literature. Unlike a lot of their classmates, neither has her sights on med faculty or legislation faculty—partially as a result of they’ve sufficient monetary safety to view literature as a viable life path. Both really feel that there’s rather a lot at stake of their selections—they’re conscious of getting to perform one thing extraordinary as a way to really feel enough. Both spent their adolescence studying canonical novels, didn’t have boyfriends, however anticipate rather a lot from love, from males.
On the opposite hand, they’ve very totally different outlooks. Svetlana has religion in historical past, “excellence,” the identified methods of doing issues. Selin doesn’t. Svetlana is afraid of being misplaced; Selin is afraid of being trapped. They come to see one another as counterparts, as representatives of their totally different philosophies. I feel that’s what they discover so magnetic about one another. You can reside just one life, however Selin will get to see what occurs in Svetlana’s, in addition to in her personal.
That mentioned, whereas writing “Either/Or,” I grew to become extra conscious of the asymmetries of their relationship. It’s usually simpler for the “risk-taking” buddy than for the “safe” one. Selin can rely on Svetlana to reside a wholesome life and get straight A’s, and it helps her view her personal life as extra inventive . . . however is that all the time enjoyable for Svetlana?
Their conversations revolve, partially, across the query of the aesthetic life vs. the moral life. Why is that this distinction so necessary to Selin? Did you decide to reside an aesthetic life once you have been Selin’s age?