Colum McCann, originally from Dublin, Ireland, is the author of six novels and two collections of stories. His latest novel is called Apeirogon, a story that stitches time, art, history, nature and politics into a tapestry of friendship, love, loss, and belonging. His fiction has been published in thirty-five languages. He lives in New York.
Today, Colum is on the blog to answer a few of our questions about his new novel. Read on …
Colum McCann
Tell us about your book, Apeirogon.
CM: I have two really stupid answers for this question. Apeirogon is “about” 450 pages. Or, Apeirogon is “about” twenty dollars or so. Both of which, I acknowledge, are really arsehole answers.
But really, honestly, Apeirogon is a book about two fathers who should be enemies, but they’re not. Having lost their daughters, these men, one Israeli and one Palestinian, use the force of their newfound grief as a weapon.
What drew you to the subject matter of this novel and made you want to write about it?
CM: Five years ago I went to Israel and Palestine with a group from two non-profits, Narrative 4 and Telos. There was a big group of us and it was a whirlwind trip but we got to visit with several different people – Israeli writers, Palestinian musicians, settlers, soldiers, artists, security experts. It was an incredible trip, brilliantly curated, deeply nuanced. And on my second-to-last night we went to Beit Jala, just outside Jerusalem. We walked into this little office, up a rickety flight of stairs. These two men were sitting there and they introduced themselves as Rami and Bassam. Ordinary men in an ordinary place. Or so it seemed. And then they began to tell me about their daughters, Smadar and Abir, both of them lost in the conflict. And, as they talked, they pinched every ounce of oxygen from the air. It seemed to me like it was the first time they had ever told the story. Of course it wasn’t. They had told it hundreds of times before. But I was deeply moved and forever changed.
What’s the significance of the title, Apeirogon?
CM: I know, I know, I know, it’s a weird word and a weird title. It means a shape with a countably infinite number of sides. So that you can land on a finite point within an infinite shape: meaning that we’re all involved, that we’re all complicit, and that what we do matters.
Is there anything about how the novel turned out that surprised you?
CM: That I ever actually finished it. It was a five-year project. There are times I was not sure I would get to the other end of things. And the support for it was a huge bonus – from both Palestinians and Israelis.
When you’re writing a new novel, do you start with character, setting or plot first?
CM: Ouch. That’s a hard question. I would say none of the above. I start with desire and confusion and curiosity. And then I start leaning into language. But of all the three thing you mention setting would probably win out, followed by character, followed lastly by plot. I don’t really care all that much about plot. Plot is in everything, so it doesn’t need to be isolated.
Who do you most admire in the writing world?
CM: Peter Carey is my teaching colleague. He’s a hell of a writer. And a great bloke. Him and Tea Obreht, who I also work with (at Hunter College in New York).
What is the best piece of writing advice you have ever received?
CM: It’s all shite until it isn’t. (Or it’s all sh** until it isn’t). Which is a lot more profound the more you think about it. It’s about fighting fighting fighting the shite until it is not quite so shite anymore.
Is there a book you’re always re-reading? Which one and why?
CM: Joyce’s Ulysses. Because it’s a vast compendium of human experience.
What do you hope readers will discover in Apeirogon?
CM: A little bit of disruption. A little bit of surprise. A little bit of newness.
And finally, what’s up next for you?
CM: Don’t slag me for this, but I’m working on a corona novel. No kidding. It’s a ridiculous gamble but I want to try it. It’s a war story.
Thanks Colum!
—Apeirogon by Colum McCann (Bloomsbury Australia) is out now.
Apeirogon
Rami Elhanan and Bassam Aramin live near one another – yet they exist worlds apart. Rami is Israeli. Bassam is Palestinian. Rami's license plate is yellow. Bassam's license plate is green. It takes Rami fifteen minutes to drive to the West Bank. The same journey for Bassam takes an hour and a half.
Both men have lost their daughters. Rami's thirteen-year-old girl Smadar was killed by a suicide bomber while out shopping with her friends. Bassam's ten-year-old daughter Abir was shot and killed by a member of the border police...
The 2020 Booker Prize longlist is here!
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