(Not That You Asked)

For all of our avid

Oakland

A’s fans, how do
you feel about McGuire taking steroids and especially Canseco’s book about him
and others “juicing” up?

SA: First things first: It’s McGwire. As for the steroid issue, I’m happy to offer a rant (not
that you asked). First: I remember watching McGwire his rookie year. He was a
big, tall kid, but suprisingly lanky. Later, after he got all puffed up, I
remember looking at his dainty little ankles and thinking: man, how do those
things support all that meat? If he
was doing ‘roids, he should admit it. He should admit he needed drugs to bop
all those homers, not just his natural talents. So should Bonds and the rest of
them. They owe that not to the fans, but to the players who don’t do ‘roids.
It’s always sad to see folks lying in public. The reason people get so upset
about the ‘roids thing, aside from the lying, is that it violates our notion
that sports is the last true meritocracy in

America

. We want to believe that
greatness exists, and affiliate ourselves with that greatness. And we get upset
when that sense of greatness is tainted.

On the other hand, I don’t exactly
blame them for juicing up, given the obscene disparities in pay between a major
leaguer and a minor leaguer. Think about it: if you’re a poor young kid with no
other real economic prospects and a deep jones to be the best and, like, 40 relatives
counting on you to score that 40 million dollar contract, and you can do all
this simply by popping a few “enhancing” pills, who’s going say no? I’m sure I
wouldn’t. So it’s a function of late-model capitalism, as well as individual
greed for glory. And the way

America

is, they create these huge inducements for people to cheat – in every field,
not just sports – so people continue to cheat.

What is your favorite
sex scene in a book that meets the criteria you’ve set forth?

SA: I’ve got a lot of favorite sex scenes. Mary Gordon has a
great female orgasm scene in her novel “Spending.” James Salter has a whole
bunch of awesome sex scenes in “A Sport and a Pastime.” And, of course, there’s
always my own as-yet-unpublished novel, “Sperm Puppets on Parade,” which will
be made available in two forms: redacted and super redacted!

Even though your
reality television bit on candy didn’t air on VH1’s Totally Obsessed, have
you ever watched the show?

SA: I saw the promos in some hotel room with my wife and it
was, like, heartbreaking. They made these folks look like such freaks. And the
whole thing was so contrived. There was some guy who had gotten all this
plastic surgery to make himself look like a cat (“He’s a catman!”) and some
other lady who treated her pet geese like children, sitting them around a fancy
table for meals and such. They should have just been honest about the show and
called it “Total Freaks.” Maybe it would have lasted longer.

You definitely don’t
seem to worry about what other people think-or will think-after reading this
book. Tell us about that.

SA: Oh gosh, we’re all such utter messes on the inside, so
full of doubts and fears and shameful impulses. And we’ve all been so foolish
and mean and cowardly. At least I have. And it takes more energy, frankly, to
pretend otherwise than it does to come clean. That’s the whole point: the
cover-up drains your energy. The truth sets you free. Unless, of course, it
gets you arrested.

Do you have plans for
any future collections? If so, who do you have in mind to bring up and what
other topics would you like to discuss?

SA: I’m working on a new thing, which is more like a
single-topic narrative. But my Corporate Masters have instructed me not to talk
about it, because it’s still just a wee hatchling and may never grow into a
giant Redwood of Obnoxious Prose.

Seeing as how the
format of Not That You Asked is somewhat unique in structure, how did the
book itself and the content within evolve?

SA: By “unique in structure” I take it you mean “complete
mess.” The book began life as a proposed biography of Kurt Vonnegut, whom I’d
worshipped during high school and college. It was my Corporate Masters at
Random House who suggested a book of essays. I was immediately suspicious, fearful
that I’d be sent off to

Toledo

and told to write about the Amazing Bearded Fat Lady at the State Fair. (I have
enough Bearded Fat Ladies in my life as it is.) So I told these Corporate
Masters, I says to them: “Listen, I’m not really an essayist. I’m more a writer
of depressing, pornographic short stories. Are you sure you want to me do
this?” And they said, “Yes.” And I said, “I only write essays about the stuff
that obsesses me.” And they said, “Fine.” And I said, “Okay, look. I want to
believe you. But I’m a pathetic, anxiety-ridden wretch. Meaning, I don’t really
believe you, because you’re a bunch of Corporate Masters and it’s pretty much
your job to hornswoggle pathetic, anxiety-ridden writers. So what I’m going to
do is send you some of my essays and you can tell me if this is what you had in
mind.” So that’s what I did. And their response was, “Looks dandy.” So I
finally got it through my thick skull that they actually weren’t pulling an
elaborate April Fools gag and signed on the dotted line. The manuscript I
turned in had about twenty essays, many of them shorter pieces. My editor,
Julia “Please Stop Being a Pathetic Wretch” Cheiffitz, suggested I cut some of
these, and write a few more long pieces, which I did, after the standard period
of aggrieved grumbling. This is a very long answer that I hope makes perfectly
clear why the book is a complete mess. I deserve all the blame. Then again, I’m
not sure readers care so much about organization. In the end, they just want
good stories, a laugh, something to remind them how deeply embarrassed we all
are, all the time.

What’s your favorite
book? If not a Vonnegut, then what’s your favorite one by him? Are there any
other authors you have found inspirational throughout your writing career?

SA: “Slaughter House Five” is certainly my favorite
Vonnegut, one of my favorites of all time. I simply had no idea – until I read
that book – that writers could do the things he did. As in: be playful and dream up crazy shit and tell
the world to shape up and confess to
your own madness and sorrow. I thought being a writer meant locking
yourself in a room until you wrote a 900 page novel about English landed gentry
or blew your brains out. Vonnegut was also the first author (though not the
last) that I spoke to, at length, during adolescent bake sessions.

That being
said, my favorite novel changes pretty frequently. Here are the ones that I
find myself rereading every few years:

“Stoner”
John Williams

“The Visit
of the Royal Physician” Per Olov Enquist

“

Henderson

the Rain King”
Bellow

“Howard’s
End” Forster

“Pride
& Prejudice” Jane Austen

Is there any
particular unifying theme in Not That You
Asked? How did you go about deciding what subjects to include?

SA: A particular unifying theme?
Yes. The particular unifying theme of NTYA is: watch me mess this up! Every essay is basically about me messing up
something and/or getting into some kind of a hassle, based on my own
insufferable self-righteousness. It’s about me getting punched by bullies and
trying, however ineffectually, to punch back. And, of course, getting punked by
my own ego.

  I’ve included some bonus themes,
should anybody care to hunt them down:

What is the moral duty of an
artist?

How might literature rescue us, as
individuals, and as a species?

How do we survive unhappy families?

How does our culture of grievance
disable us?

Will I ever shut up?

Roughly how many
times have you nearly killed your daughter after the initial three days you
spoke of in the book?

SA: 341. Roughly. Or actually – wait a sec – I just – Josie!
Oh shit. Wake up, Jos! Jos? Fuck.

Do you ever regret
your decision to resign from

Boston

?

SA: I regret it all the time. It was a great
honor to be allowed to teach young writers, and to help them struggle toward
the truth inside themselves, and in the world around them. I felt sanctified
every time I walked in a classroom, and I’m sorry as hell to have lost that
privilege. I’m also sorry that the administration at

Boston

College

would honor a public servant who has done so much harm to our democracy.

What amazed me
about these right-wing fatmouths who came after me is that they had no idea
that a teacher might regret actually, you know, giving up the pleasure of
teaching. For them, it was all about the money. (Well, that and Bill Clinton.
Did you know that in some parts of the country, he’s still president?)

In
Not That You Asked, you mentioned that you are the son of two
psychiatrists. Tell us a little more about what it was like in your house,
while growing up. Do you think your parents will be humored by your published
‘rants, exploits and obsessions’?

SA: I say plenty in the book about what it
was like growing up in our house, so I’ll skip that one, except to note that
the main problem wasn’t that my folks were psychiatrists, but that there were
overworked. And that we boys didn’t know how to ask for the love we needed. As
for my parents’ reactions to the book, they’ve retained counsel, so it’s not
something I’m at liberty to discuss.

Are you worried about Peanut Almond’s
reaction to this book when she’s older?

SA: We will not be teaching Peanut Almond to read. Instead,
she will communicate exclusively via interpretive dance.