February 15, 1974

Miranda July, born on February 15, 1974, is an artist in multiple fields, the written word, the canvas, multi-media. The New York Times recently interviewed her, and we excerpt:

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What books are currently on your night stand?

There’s too much, so I’ll just mention a few: “Humiliation,” by Wayne Koestenbaum; “Women of the Avant-Garde: 1920-1940”; “Flying to America,” by Donald Barthelme; “The Two Kinds of Decay,” by Sarah Manguso; “It’s OK Not to Share . . . ,” by Heather Shumaker (a parenting book); “Animacies,” by Mel Chen; and a book about the artist Roman Ondak.......

Your first book was a collection of short stories. Do you read a lot of short fiction? Who are your favorite short-story writers?

I prefer a great novel, but many novels come with a bunch of novel-y writerliness that feels sort of macho to me, so I do end up reading lots of shorter things. Nina Berberova, Judy Budnitz, Lorrie Moore, Julie Hecht, George Saunders, Spalding Gray, Alice Munro and, recent discovery, Diane Cook. Her book “Man v. Nature” is a knockout. Also, and I don’t usually say this, every single story could make a great movie. (Not that I condone adaptations or think it is necessary.)
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What are your literary guilty pleasures? Do you have a favorite genre?

I’m too guilty for guilty pleasures, but a friend sent me “Breed,” which is a thriller by Chase Novak, who is actually Scott Spencer (apparently he felt guilty too). This violent page-turner had a big impact on my novel “The First Bad Man,” because it forced me to recognize that I wanted to write a thriller too — i.e., I wanted the reader to read quickly, with some urgency. This isn’t something I was going to realize in Lydia Davis-land.
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Which books might we be surprised to find on your shelves?

“Paths to Recovery: Al-Anon’s Steps, Traditions and Concepts” would be surprising to anyone who knows me, since I never get past half a glass of wine. But this book has helped me in terrible moments with challenging people — not alcoholics, just narcissists. Always good to remember the Four C’s: You Didn’t Cause It, You Can’t Control It, You Can’t Cure It . . . and the fourth C, which has slipped my mind.
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The last book that made you cry?

Oh God, that Diane Cook book I was talking about? There’s a story called “Somebody’s Baby” that completely captures the crippling, animal-like vigilance of early motherhood. I didn’t realize how alive those feelings still were in me until the tears began hitting the page. I had to put the book down and just sob, and I was thrilled at the same time, thinking: “It works! This medium really works!”

What’s the worst book you’ve ever read?

I know I’m going to lose a lot of readers over this, and I don’t care: “Garfield” is overrated. I have always felt this, even as a child. That dumb man and his dumb, mean cat have gotten more of our attention than they deserve. Less so recently. But you meet men (and cats) like them every day. It’s a type.

....We actually skipped most of the interview here.  A lot of writers I never heard of. But her worst book choice-- thank goodness someone pointed this out. Though I don't think of that cartoonist as a type,- just an annoying triviality that seems hard to avoid. Thank you Miranda July.

Feb. 15, 1974

Miranda July is a wonderful writer. July, born on February 15, 1974,  is also a painter and filmmaker. But Google Books hasn't put that art online yet, so we are talking about her writing. Her parents are writers, her husband an artist also. Her book of short stories includes "The Boy From Lam Kien," from which we excerpt:

[A young boy by the street] seemed to be waiting for me to move forward. Weren't we all. When it became clear this was not going to happen, he yelled out to me,
     I have a dog.
     I nodded. What's his name?
     The boy looked sad for a moment and I realized he did not actually have a dog. I felt honored to be chosen as the person who believed he had a dog. I was the right  woman for this job; he had chosen well to chose me. Finally he yelled out, Paul!, and I dutifully imagined Paul: running with the boy. loving the boy, the boy feeding Paul.
     Do you have a dog? Paul's owner asked, walking toward me...He...did not judge me.
     Do you have any pets, he asked.
     No.
     Not even a cat?
     No.
     Why not?
     I'm not sure I could care for a pet. I travel a lot.
     But  you could get a very little pet, that wasn't very hungry.
    ...I didn't  want any more weaklings....If I was going to bring something new into my house, it would be a big starving thing. But I could not do this. I didn't tell the boy, because I was just his dog believer...

This excerpt is from No One Belongs Here More Than You. (2007.) If you want to know why the narrator was standing on a sidewalk, get the book. Miranda July is a wonderful writer.