Karen Russell Women who morph into furred silkworms enslaved by the Japanese empire; vampires that rely on the "soothing blankness" of lemons to blot out their bloodlust; hoarder seagulls that stash scraps from the future in trees. Such are the strange creatures in Karen Russell's suspenseful new collection, Vampires in the Lemon Grove, which comes out next week.
Russell, 31, first made waves with the short-story collection St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised By Wolves, unleashed in 2006 as she graduated from Columbia's MFA program. Her 2011 novel Swamplandia!, about a family running a threadbare alligator theme park in the Everglades, was a Pulitzer finalist last year (though no book received enough votes to win). And as her new collection hits bookstore shelves, Russell is already hard at work on her next novel, set in the Dust Bowl era. Though she was pretty tight-lipped about it, her story "Proving Up" in Vampires hints at the spooky Americana she's capable of.
In our early morning chat, Russell recalled Flannery O'Connor's reading of Kafka's Metamorphosis: "The truth is not distorted here, but rather a certain distortion is used to get to the truth." O'Connor may as well have been talking about Russell, whose tales flirt with the fantastical, but are rooted in darker realities—loss of innocence, PTSD, all-consuming ambition. Even as she transforms the everyday into a wriggling bestiary, replete with colorful hallucinations and ghosts, her most haunting bits rely on the depiction of human impulses. I asked a "coffee'd up" Russell about the wellspring of her imagination, her swampy backyard, and breaking into the literary treehouse.
Mother Jones: When did you start to think seriously about writing fiction?
Karen Russell: I took a fiction-writing workshop my sophomore year at Northwestern, and I hadn't yet read Junot Díaz or George Saunders, Flannery O'Connor. There was something so attractive about those voices. I heard about an [MFA program], and it just sounded like this magic thing, fairy-tale style—that there was a school you could go to exclusively for the thing you loved. I moved to New York with the derangement of love. I was writing all these terrible stories, but I had never been happier.
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