Does the arbitrary nature of our daily existence cohere into something resembling a story? And if so, how do we begin to tease out meaning from that story?
Valeria Luiselli posits these questions in her new book, “Beginning Middle End,” but mercifully she doesn’t weigh down her fiction with pedantry. Rather, Luiselli tucks her ideas into the folds of an all too human story about a woman, stinging from a recent divorce, and her younger daughter as they embark on a journey across Sicily. The book is written in fragmentary fashion, discrete chunks of prose that accrete into a greater whole, much like the ancient mosaics that are among of the novel’s thematic touchstones.
I recently spoke with Luiselli about Proteus, Pliny the Elder and Polaroid photos.
✍️ Author Chat
There are resonances of your last novel “Lost Children Archive” in “Beginning Middle End.” Certain character names are repeated, and there is also an audio-visual component, as there was previously. Additionally, a QR code in your new novel allows the reader to access audio recordings related to the book. Is this part of a larger project you have in mind?
I learned a lot about [sound and sound recording] when I was writing “Lost Children.” After I finished it I devoted the next five years to a work in progress called “Echoes From the Borderlands,” recording the sounds of the Mexican-U.S. borderlands. I think of “Beginning Middle End” as a book that exists both in its textual version and in its sonic translation.
The story is told in a fragmentary fashion, with short paragraphs that are separated by subheadings. And the last third of the book contains Polaroid pictures and postcards that relate to the story. There is also a mosaic tessera that is integral to the narrative. What is it that appeals to you about the notion of a story that is constructed from lots of discrete parts?
I’ve been interested for some time now in thinking about how to shorten the distance between process and result in such a way that the signs of the process can be read in the final project. When I’m working on something, I’m collecting postcards and archival material, and taking Polaroid pictures along the way, partly because I know that my process in writing is not linear. And I use Polaroids almost as Post-It notes, as another form of note taking.
Valeria Luiselli’s new novel, “Beginning Middle End,” is about memory and imagination.
(Clayton Cubitt)
It’s such a fascinating creative process.
It can be incredibly frustrating. Because sometimes it’s years before I know what language I’m going to be using in its final form.
Your book is about many things, but the act of storytelling is definitely a major theme. Not just in fiction, but in the way we shape our own personal narratives and how they are transmitted. And this notion of “the middle” as a space that hovers between two poles, the place where you are looking behind and ahead, between life and death, and so on.
The mother in the story is in the mess of the middle, trying to make sense of things and laying out events, but not really finding the deeper threads that tie life together and give it some kind of meaning. And it is only until her daughter arrives at the end of the book that you can read the novel backwards somehow, and understand in hindsight how she, the daughter, has seen a relationship all along between all these seemingly arbitrary events. She is the one that finds meaning in a sequence, where the mother sees only chaos.
The book is grounded in Greek and Roman Classical texts. Proteus and Pliny the Elder feature prominently. Where does your interest in the Classics come from?
The early pre-Socratic philosophers were the first to observe nature without the scaffolding of mythology, who were really just trying to make sense of it. And so that’s how I arrived eventually at Pliny, who has this 37-volume compendium of observations of nature that ask all the important questions about the oceans and rivers and mountains and the sky and the clouds. Pliny became a kind of ghost that led me through the years in which I was writing this novel.
Your novel delves into the relationship between memory and imagination.
What guides me are questions that press on me. I have little interest in plots early on. I become interested in plot as an emanation from questioning things. And one of those questions was about the relationship between memory and imagination. How are the two things connected? How much is our imagination shaped by our memory?
One of the writers that has best addressed that question is Jorge Luis Borges in the last story he ever wrote, “Shakespeare’s Memory,” where the protagonist has two consciousnesses inhabiting his interiority. When a train passes, he doesn’t know what it is, because he’s in Shakespeare mode. He doesn’t have a memory of the sound of a train. That story can be read as an allegory for how our memories and imaginations work as readers. We have all our life events that compose our being and our memory of life, but we also have everything we have read. And I think that that’s really where the discussion around imagination and memory gets very interesting.
This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.
📰 The Week(s) in Books
Christopher Nolan’s film adaptation of “The Odyssey” ignited a fire in the literary world, inspiring harsh critiques from Homer translator Emily Wilson and staunch defenses from Joyce Carol Oates and Susan Orlean.
(Illustration by Jim Cooke / Los Angeles Times; Source: Louis-Frédéric Schützenberger)
Chris Young was serving two life terms without parole for a low-level drug charge when Kim Kardashian intervened. The reality TV mogul successfully petitioned President Trump to commute Young’s sentence in 2021. Now Young has written “The Wound Is Where the Light Enters,” a searing memoir that “not only reveals the system’s horrors, but also celebrates the redemptive power of hope, intellect and community,” writes Julia M. Klein.
Justin Halpern, the co-showrunner of ABC’s “Abbott Elementary,” has written his first novel, called “Get Lost,” and Stuart Miller talked to him about it. Of taking on the challenge of writing alone, Halpern told Miller that “I’m definitely still codependent, but the novel forced me to venture into waters that I never would have gotten into on my own.”
The battle over Christopher Nolan’s movie adaptation of “The Odyssey” rages on. In the wake of Homer translator Emily Wilson’s excoriating critique of the film, Emily St. Martin reports that Susan Orlean and Joyce Carol Oates have publicly rallied behind Nolan. In a recent post on X, Oates wrote that Wilson’s “tone of dismissal & haughty superiority strike a sour note.”
Steve Wasserman takes a deep dive into “Too L.A.,” a newly published collection of author Eve Babitz’s rich trove of mostly unsent correspondence. The letters “brilliantly reveal Babitz’s eye for the deep shallow as well as explore the porous boundary between the largely self-inflicted injuries of her private life and the glittering sheen of her public persona,” writes Wasserman.
📖 Bookstore Faves
Whitmore Rare Books in Pasadena caters to customers who value the physical experience of reading books.
(Pierre Galant Photography)
Although it lives on a busy Pasadena street corner, Whitmore’s Rare Books feels like something a book hound might discover in London or New York: an elegantly appointed space with a large bookshelf running along the length of one wall that contains some of the store’s inventory of antiquarian treasures. Founded by a former lawyer turned bookseller and Pasadena native Dan Whitmore, the store is doing brisk business among a younger clientele that still values the tactile pleasures to be found from beautiful books. I spoke with Whitmore about what’s selling in his store.
How long have you been in the rare book business?
I stumbled into a first edition when I was in law school in Philadelphia in 2006 and I was bitten by the bug to start a collection. I worked as a lawyer for a year out here in L.A. and quit my job in 2009 to pursue rare books full time. So we’re coming up on 17 years, which is a good stretch, although there are people who’ve been in the trade for 50 or 60 years.
How do you find your inventory?
You amass this database of knowledge over time, and there really isn’t a substitute for it. I know people think that the AI boom is going to just turn around and be able to do what we do, but it’s not quite that simple. You really have to understand the market and the way that the market tends to shift over time. More modern material can shift a bit faster. But a Shakespeare folio or Darwin’s “On the Origin of Species” or Adam Smith’s “The Wealth of Nations,” books that document important moments in history where something new is introduced to the world, will always have value.
We just bought a first edition of “Alcoholics Anonymous,” and a second edition that was inscribed by Bill Wilson. These are books that have had such a profound impact on so many people’s lives that there’s this really strong market for early AA books.
What is selling presently?
I would say things like fantasy, science fiction, especially some of the classics: “Lord of the Rings,” “The Hobbit.” Some of these iconic works are having a moment right now, such as “Dune,” “I, Robot” and the “Foundation” trilogy. There are new buyers coming in, and I think some of that is tech money — people who maybe grew up reading these books and find inspiration there.
Why should we spend a lot of money on old books, when we can buy new ones for a lot less?
I don’t think that everyone is a collector or should be. I think that there are people who love the physical objects. They love the connection to history, that feeling of thinking about what it must have been like when someone opened the book and read that for the first time, and they get to have that experience again.
Whitmore Rare Books is at 121 E. Union St. in Pasadena.
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