Interview by Carleigh Baker
Photo credit: Red Works Photography 2018
Eden Robinson’s much-anticipated book Trickster Drift, the sequel to Giller Prize-shortlisted Son of a Trickster, came out this October. Carleigh Baker, author of the award-winning short story collection Bad Endings, talked to her about the responsibilities that come with using traditional stories in contemporary work, complicated characters and, yes, a possible romance novel.
You’re up in Kitimat working on the film adaptation of Monkey Beach, what’s that like? What does it mean to have the film set on Haisla territory, the land it was written for?
I’m more of a bystander. My sister interned on the movie right after film school, though, and she is now a consulting producer. The experience has been surreal and wonderful. I wish my dad was here to see this. He was my biggest cheerleader and wanted to play the b’gwus.
Screenwriters Johnny Darrell and Andrew Duncan are handling the adaptation, along with director Loretta Todd. How does it feel to surrender the reins? Have you been surprised by their interpretation?
I don’t enjoy writing screenplays. They have been very responsive to my feedback. Having tackled the adaptation many, many years ago, I can understand and appreciate why they made the artistic choices that they did.
Many of your books, including Monkey Beach, Son of a Trickster and the recently released Trickster Drift weave traditional Haisla stories into the contemporary lives of the characters. What responsibilities, both cultural and artistic, are you keeping in mind when you do this?
They do, and it’s a huge responsibility. My rule of thumb is to be respectful with cultural material and gonzo with personal dysfunction. I come from potlatching cultures where stories, songs and dances are owned by individuals, families and/or clans. With Haisla and Heiltsuk copyright, I would have to throw a potlatch in order to use those stories in fiction. I don’t have a big enough name to throw a potlatch, so I’d have to attach my business to someone else’s potlatch. The politics of that and the expense are prohibitive, so I tend to stick to stories and characters that fall within Haisla/Heiltsuk public domain, like the Wee’git stories.
You did your MFA here at UBC, so here’s a question for the Indigenous students out there. In workshop, many students working with traditional stories feel the challenge of contextualizing their work to fellow students. The possibility for misunderstanding (at best) and whitewashing (at worst) leaves some students feeling excluded. Is this something you’ve experienced, and do you have any tips for students?
When I first started writing, I had to contextualize everything and found it tedious. My editor at the time asked how inclusive I wanted to be. Leanne Simpson, on the other hand, expects the reader to do the work of understanding the context of her stories in much the same way we have been expected to learn the context of mainstream stories. I fall in the middle of these approaches now, because I’m aiming my fiction at people who have been raised in an urban environment or were adopted out in the Sixties Scoop and are finding their way back to their cultures. I’m in the same boat, having been raised by bohemians who bucked against the hierarchies of potlatching.
In a recent interview with Rachel Rose for Cascadia Magazine, you said: “I like characters with grey areas.” These characters can be difficult to develop on the page, in that many readers are looking for a certain “likeability” that comes from clear-cut morality. How do you develop “grey area” characters who the reader will empathize with?
We’re overrun with likeable characters. I think if the reader understands what is motivating a character, they have more patience for the character’s bad decisions or moments of weakness. I find fully good and wholesome characters difficult to work with because they’re like those Facebook pages where every documented moment is perfect, but void of authentic moments of struggle.
Son of a Trickster is set in Kitimat, and Trickster Drift is set in East Vancouver. Do the different landscapes give the books a different mood?
They do. Kitimat is a company town and there are some things about having limited employment opportunities and everyone working in one or two places that is challenging to capture in fiction. Vancouver is easier. There is a rich body of work fictionalizing it, so you have a lot of models to work with.
Trilogies are hot right now, and I think it’s safe to say readers are thrilled we’ve got more to come in the Trickster series. As a short story writer, I find the concept of presenting a story over three books very intimidating! Did you begin Son of a Trickster with a trilogy in mind, or has it just spooled out naturally?
It spooled from a short story to a novella to a novel to two novels to a trilogy. I’m determined for it to remain a trilogy. I’d like to move on to my other novels, which are impatiently waiting in the wings. My muse is yappy.
You’re a busy human. Are you able to keep up your writing practice when you’re on the road? Any tips?
Nope. Not in any way, shape or form. I’m going to have to start saying no to events to focus back on writing, but it’s fun meeting fans and old friends.
There’s a lot going on in the world right now, as well as in our microcosm of Canadian literature. Writers from communities that have traditionally been ignored have the ability to speak up and change is happening. However, this is also taking a toll on our energy and, for some of us, our ability to write. How do you take care of yourself when you’re writing? Any tips for emerging writers?
Isn’t it stressful? Just know that you aren’t the only one fighting. When you get tired, step back and practice self-care. A lot of other writers are fighting and they will step up while you recoup. Don’t drain yourself past your body or mind’s ability to heal. We need you, but we don’t need you to fall apart.
And finally, when you were at UBC last, you mentioned a romance novel! How’s that going? Inquiring minds want to know!
Haha, oh my God. It’s impatiently waiting in the wings.
Haisla/Heiltsuk novelist Eden Robinson is the author of a collection of short stories written when she was a Goth called Traplines, which won the Winifred Holtby Prize in the UK. Her two previous novels, Monkey Beach and Blood Sports, were written before she discovered she was gluten-intolerant and tend to be quite grim, the latter being especially gruesome because half-way through writing the manuscript, Robinson gave up a two-pack a day cigarette habit and the more she suffered, the more her characters suffered. Monkey Beach won the Ethel Wilson Fiction Prize and was a finalist for the Giller Prize and the Governor General’s Award for Fiction. Son of a Trickster, the first instalment of her Trickster trilogy, was a finalist for the Scotiabank Giller Prize. In 2017, she won the Writers’ Trust of Canada Fellowship. She lives in Kitimat, BC.
Carleigh Baker is a nêhiyaw-âpihtawikosisân iskwêw/ íslensku writer. Her debut story collection, Bad Endings (Anvil, 2017) was a finalist for both the the Emerging Indigenous Voices Award and the Rogers Writers’ Trust Award for fiction, and won the City of Vancouver Book Award.