“My mother used to buy me any and every book with the word ‘Sarah’ in the title,” says the author, whose 2019 memoir “The Yellow House” is now out in paperback.
What books are on your nightstand?
“The Dolphin Letters: Elizabeth Hardwick, Robert Lowell, and Their Circle”; “The Selected Letters of Ralph Ellison”; “Sing, Unburied, Sing,” by Jesmyn Ward; “Blindness,” by Jose Saramago; “More Dimensions Than You Know,” by Jack Whitten; “Doomstead Days,” by Brian Teare; Toni Morrison’s “The Black Book”; “Some of Us Did Not Die,” by June Jordan; “Trieste,” by Dasa Drndic; John Gardner’s “The Art of Fiction”; Javier Marías, “Thus Bad Begins.”
What’s the last great book you read?
“One Hundred Years of Solitude,” which I reread at least once a year. It’s one of my favorite worlds to live in and I am still trying to figure out how García Márquez built it. I also just finished “Sister Love: The Letters of Audre Lorde and Pat Parker,” which reminded me of all that friendship does, especially this from Lorde to Parker: “Whatever I have/know that is useful to you is yours. Most of all to hear from you when you speak, and believe you when you are silent.”
Describe your ideal reading experience (when, where, what, how).
A deep soaking tub with steaming hot water that never runs out. If that’s not possible, in bed, coffee and fruit in abundance, jazz playing low. As ritual, my partner and I read to each other most nights around dinnertime, which I love so much and now cannot live without. We last read the play “Home,” by Samm-Art Williams.
What’s your favorite book no one else has heard of?
“Louisiana,” by Erna Brodber.
Which writers — novelists, playwrights, critics, journalists, poets — working today do you admire most?
Saidiya Hartman, Kiese Laymon, Natasha Trethewey, Rachel Kaadzi Ghansah, Jesmyn Ward, Walton Muyumba, Maggie Nelson, Wendy S. Walters, Lynell George, Angela Flournoy, Kaitlyn Greenidge.
Do you have any comfort reads?
Oh yes, “Conversations With Toni Morrison,” edited by Danille Taylor-Guthrie — I would wear it around my neck like a talisman if it didn’t weigh so much.
Which subjects do you wish more authors would write about?
I wish (and I know this was not the question, exactly) for the day when Black writers — especially women — are free to write whatever in the world they want. And are fairly paid for the thing they wrote. Am thinking so much these days of Toni Morrison’s apt quotation: “The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being.” I am looking for intellectual boundlessness in my own work.
What moves you most in a work of literature?
When the writing and the story are equally captivating. I am most drawn to philosophical texts that ask existential questions. And when within this same kind of book, the writer makes me laugh? Joy!
Which genres do you especially enjoy reading? And which do you avoid?
I mostly read fiction. And this will perhaps seem ironic, but I tend to avoid memoir.
How do you organize your books?
Alphabetical, without regard to genre. Poets live separately on one massive bookshelf that reaches the ceiling. A few writers are gathered in a case reserved for what I call “biblical texts”: Joan Didion, John Edgar Wideman, Elizabeth Hardwick, Philip Roth, Albert Murray, Gayl Jones and Toni Morrison are a few who live there.
What book might people be surprised to find on your shelves?
If they know me at all, not a single one.
What’s the best book you’ve ever received as a gift?
My mother used to buy me any and every book with the word “Sarah” in the title. Which is how she came to buy me Catherine McKinley’s “The Book of Sarahs.”
What kind of reader were you as a child? Which childhood books and authors stick with you most?
I lived for the Scholastic Book Fairs. Me and my mother made a job out of circling all the books I would buy if our budget were unlimited, then narrowed it way way down. I loved Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends,” in particular. The other one I memorized and quoted from — in completely inappropriate childhood situations — was “Aesop’s Fables.” I had a hardcover special edition with the best drawings. To this day, I miss that childhood copy. My mother taught us that books were a road to elsewhere — a means of deepening.
You’re organizing a literary dinner party. Which three writers, dead or alive, do you invite?
I’m desperate to sit around a table with Natasha Trethewey, Kiese Laymon and Imani Perry — but would also invite June Jordan, Audre Lorde and Lorraine Hansberry.
Disappointing, overrated, just not good: What book did you feel as if you were supposed to like, and didn’t? Do you remember the last book you put down without finishing?
Books speak to us differently at different times.
What do you plan to read next?
I’m rereading a series of small (page-wise) but big (power-wise) books: Baldwin’s “Giovanni’s Room”; Elizabeth Hardwick’s “Sleepless Nights”; Marilynne Robinson’s “Housekeeping”; and Gayl Jones’s “Corregidora.” Am trying to see something. Want to also reread Natasha Trethewey’s “Memorial Drive,” which I read some time ago in galley.
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