Bookshelfie: Women’s Prize Podcast - S6 Ep8: Bookshelfie: Ruth Ozeki

Episode Date: May 18, 2023

Ruth Ozeki, winner of the 2022 Women’s Prize for Fiction discusses the power of meditation, the importance of writing beautiful lists and how novels eventually take on a life of their own.  Not only an award winning writer, Ruth is also a filmmaker and Zen Buddhist priest. She is the author of five novels, The Book of Form and Emptiness, My Year of Meats, All Over Creation, A Tale for the Time Being, which was shortlisted for the 2013 Man Booker Prize and translated into 28 languages. She has also written a short memoir, Timecode of a Face. She lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, where she teaches creative writing at Smith College and is the Grace Jarcho Ross 1933 Professor of Humanities. Ruth’s books: ** The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon  ** A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara  ** Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh ** Piranesi by Susannah Clarke ** A Writer's Diary by Virginia Woolf  Vick Hope, multi-award winning TV and BBC Radio 1 presenter, author and journalist, is the host of season six of the Women’s Prize for Fiction Podcast. Every week, Vick will be joined by another inspirational woman to discuss the work of incredible female authors. The Women’s Prize is one of the most prestigious literary awards in the world, and they continue to champion the very best books written by women. Don’t want to miss the rest of Season Six? Listen and subscribe now! This podcast is sponsored by Baileys and produced by Bird Lime Media.

At Harrison Healthcare, we know that lasting health starts with personalized care. We're not just a clinic. We're your partner in prevention, helping you achieve your health and longevity goals. Our expert team combines evidence-based medicine with the compassionate, unhurried care you and your family deserve today and for many years to come. When it comes to your health, you shouldn't settle for anything less than exceptional. Visit harrisonhealthcare.ca.ca.com.com. slash Toronto. You know, when the book goes out into the world, it becomes not mine anymore. It becomes a collaboration. And I think essentially that's what writing is. Writing is a collaboration between a writer and a reader. And I do my part, you know, and then the book goes out into the world. And then the

reader brings, you know, her life experience, lived experience to the page and brings the book to life in a completely different way. With thanks to Bayleys, this is the Women's Prize for Fiction Podcast. Celebrating women's writing, sharing our creativity, our voices and our perspectives, all while championing the very best fiction written by women around the world. I'm Vic Hope and I'm your host for Season 6 of Bookshelfy, the podcast that asks women with lives as inspiring as any fiction, to share the five books by women that have shaped them.

Join me and my incredible guests as we talk about the books you'll be adding to your 2023 reading list. Hello and welcome back to the podcast. This year's 2023 shortlist has now been announced. And what better way to discover these six spectacular books than by joining us for the Women's Prize Shortlist Book Club online. Wherever you are in the world, over three evenings in May, you can tune in to bestselling author Kate Moss,

this year's six shortlisted authors and a lineup of celebrated actors for a joyous celebration of women's writing. Featuring readings from the shortlisted novels, candid chat from the authors and your chance to shape the conversation. This is the ultimate book club. Head to the Women's Prize website now to get your ticket. Today's guest is Ruth Ozeki, renowned author and winner of the 2022 Women's Prize for Fiction.

Her winning novel, the book of Form and Emptiness Bold Over Last Year's Judges, who described it as bold, humane and heartbreaking. Ruth is also a filmmaker and a Zen Buddhist priest. She is the author of four other novels, My Year of Meets, All Over Creation, A Tale for the Time Being, which was shortlisted for the 2013 Manbaker Prize and translated into 28 languages. She's also written a short memoir, Time Code of a Face. She lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, where she teaches creative writing at Smith College

and is the Grace Jaka Ross, 1933 Professor of Humanities. Through her thought-provoking work, Ruth continues to push boundaries and inspire readers, and we are delighted to have her on the podcast. Welcome, Roe. Thank you so much, Rick. I read the Book of Form and Emptiness last year when it was shortlisted for the Women's Fries for Fiction, of course, went on to win it, and it was just, oh, it took me on a journey. What a beautiful piece of work. I guess you have so much to put down onto the paper, but what about taking things off the paper? Do you find time to read yourself? You know, it's funny that you should say that because while I'm in the middle of writing a book,

and certainly as I'm sort of approaching the end, I find I have less and less time for reading. And so one of the great joys of finishing a book and putting it out into the world is that, you know, now finally I have unlimited time to read. And it's just wonderful. Oh, so do you find that it can be quite stop-start? I guess you go through periods where you'll have lots of time to write. You'll have lots of time to read and then periods where there are no more books going in. That's right. And especially, I find that when I'm writing, I do read a lot of nonfiction. Very often it's research. So, for example, for the book of form and emptiness, I was reading a lot of books about mental health and about hearing voices and, you know, but so many other things as well.

I was reading a lot of Walter Benjamin and philosophy and Zen and I was also reading books about, you know, clutter clearing. So, I mean, you know, a sort of very wide range, you know, and so that generally takes up, you know, that that is all my reading time. But then, you know, when, when, you know, when I finally finish and the book is out in the world doing its thing, you know, I can finally turn my attention back to fiction and that is just such a joy. But of course, the problem is, is that, you know, the books pile up, right? I mean, you know, they're coming at us fast and furious. And certainly during the pandemic, I mean, all these writers, they were writing, you know. And so there was this huge, it seemed to me anyway, a surge of new books coming out in the last, you know, wonderful books

coming out in the last couple of years. And so now I'm just desperately trying to catch up. I know the feeling. It felt like there were more than ever. You just want to get through them because you hear amazing things about so many of them. I guess even being on the long list when that came out, you're like, oh, look all these women who are writing these amazing books. I need to get through them. That's right. That's right. That's right.

And I wasn't able to get through everything on the long list, but I certainly read all of the books on the short list. And they were wonderful. You know, it was just, it was such a wonderful group to be a part of. I felt, I felt very, very honored. Oh, you get such a sense of that when you stand in that room and they're all on the stage. or you're doing the readings and you think, wow, these these are the minds and the souls and the spirits behind these books that we have so loved this year. Yeah.

A big theme and a setting in the book of form and emptiness. Of course, the library was that a place that you spent a lot of time when you were a child? I did. I did. I've always, of course, I mean, I think most writers have their, you know, their library stories, right? But certainly when I was a child, when I was really quite young, And my mother would take me to the library. And, you know, other children would do kind of summer things during summer vacation.

And my mother, you know, the thing that I did with her was to go to the library. And she would, you know, she would bring me down into the basement, which is where the, you know, the children's section was. And, you know, for hours, for hours at a time. And it was, it was just beautiful, you know. And I thought the librarians were all so kind. And I thought, I thought that was their house. I thought they lived in the library, and I thought all of those books were theirs. And I thought they were just these kind, kind of magical women.

They were all women, you know, who had all of these books and would lend them to me. You know, they would give me as many as I wanted, and I could take them home and then bring them back and get some more, you know. And so I remember when I was really little, I thinking that, you know, this was ideal. I mean, I thought they were very wealthy because, you know, the... They own all these books. They own all these books and the building they lived in was really magnificent, you know, big brick building, you know, very impressive. And so I remember thinking that I, you know, I wanted to be a librarian.

That was my, that was my, that was sort of the pinnacle of my ambition at one point. And when did the aspirations towards being a librarian turn to being a writer? I don't think they ever have dissipated entirely. I think there's still a part of me that, you know, really would like to be a librarian. and I spend a lot of time in libraries. When I go to a new city, it's usually one of the first things I do is check out the public library and just walk around. There's something about the atmosphere of libraries that I just think is magical.

So just being surrounded by all those books and knowing, I think, too, in a way, the more I write, the more I understand and appreciate what it is that goes into a book, you know, what it is that goes into making a book. And when I think about, you know, all of those books and all of those pages and all of those writers who have, you know, pretty much experienced similar kinds of things, you know, experience the sense of despair, you know, and anxiety and also, you know, tremendous excitement and elation, you know, and just all of the emotions that go into writing a book. And also you know, how long it takes to write a book. I mean, when you think about the human hours represented by, you know, your average collection in a big, you know, municipal library, I mean, it's staggering, really, you know, to think about the amount of human hours that go into writing all of that, you know, all of those books. Yeah, you can't conceive of how many hours have been put into every single page in that big magical house, the home of the librarian, the library who owns every.

book. I love that idea. Yeah. Well, let's talk about your first book, Shelfi book, which is the Pillow Book of C. Shonogon. This is a fascinating, detailed account of Japanese court life in the 11th century, written by a lady of the court. This book enthralls with its lively gossip, witty observations, and subtle impressions. Tell us a bit about it. Well, I mean, I think you did a beautiful job describing it, you know, just now. The Hayan period lasted from about, it was like the late 700s to the early 1100s, I guess maybe the late 1100s. And, you know, it was a brief period in Japan when the capital of Japan moved to Kyoto. And it was a period that was really just known for the arts, you know, the literary arts, you know, painting, but and also just a kind of exquisite.

is it courtly lifestyle. And so as you said, Seishonagon was a, you know, she was a lady in waiting to the Empress Sadako. And she was, I think, probably worked at the court for about 10 or 11 years. And during that period, she wrote this book called The Pillow Book. And I found it, I found an early copy of it translated by Arthur Whaley. And this was a copy that my mother had when, you know, when I was growing up. And I remember taking it from her bookshelf, just being intrigued by, you know, by the title, the pillow book, right? And wondering what on earth that was. And I, again, must have been pretty young. And I read this on the cover. Nearly a thousand years ago, this book was written by a woman who was equally famous for her wit, her poetry,

and her lovers. That's brilliant. And I remember really, really, and I remember really, reading this and thinking, you know, mom, you know, like, what is what is my mother reading, you know? And, and then I, you know, I think I probably snuck it into, you know, my bedroom and started reading it myself. And, and, and it's true. I mean, that this is, this is exactly what it's, you know, the, I think the book is famous for. You know, it's an account by, say, Seanagon, of court life at that time. And it's just filled with little annex. and memories and, you know, just small kind of descriptions of the ornate, elaborate rituals of the court. It's absolutely fast. A lot of gossip, you know, and it's just absolutely fascinating. I remember thinking of her, you know, I used to be a documentary filmmaker. And so I remember thinking of her as a kind of proto-documentarian, you know, as somebody who had that kind of kind of documentarians eye and, you know, would record all of her observations. One of the things that I love so much about this book is she has these lists, right?

There's like 164 lists in the book, right? And the lists are just, they're just kind of mind-boggling. Okay. I mean, usually when you write lists, you know, when I write lists anyway, I write lists of, you know, shopping lists or grocery lists or do you know to do lists lots of to do lists i mean i love lists so you know but um but se shonagon had a very different take on it she wrote lists um with titles like um annoying things or deceptive things or embarrassing things um things that give me an uncomfortable feeling right or um rare i think she had rare things squalid things things that have lost their power, right? And then my favorite list was things that make the heart beat faster.

Isn't that lovely? And it's something to take note of, you know? Sometimes they need to stop and take stock of the things that make my heart beat faster. And I realized something then, you know, sort of reading these lists, which is that, you know, if you, that your taxonomies change the way that you perceive the world and change the way that you experience the world, right? And so if you only make lists of things to do, right, then that's all you'll do. You'll just do the things on your to-do list. Those are the things that will preoccupy you. But if you make lists of things that make the heart beat faster,

your heart will beat faster, you know? And I remember thinking, oh, you know, I am obviously not paying attention to the right things because, you know, my lists are just, you know, my lists are just, just so banal and quotidian compared to Session Regons lists. And so I started to try to think about, I started to actually use her lists instead of mine. And it really is, it's kind of amazing. It just changes your orientation. I've literally just written down things that make the heartbeat faster

because I'm going to begin my list as soon as we finish this podcast recording. And that is what I'm going to do. Good, good. Your books often do explore the intersection between Japan and North America and the ways in which cultural identities and histories can shape our experiences of the world. How important is it for you to tell these stories? Oh, it's very important. You know, when I was growing up, I was born in 1956, which was, you know, 11 years after the end of World War II. And, you know, Japan and America were at war with each other.

And my mother's Japanese and my father's American. And so, but of course, you know, I wasn't aware as a young child. I wasn't aware of the war, except, you know, I was aware of the kind of emanations, you know, from the war. But I wasn't, you know, I wasn't aware of that because children aren't. And I didn't realize how much the war impacted my experience as a child growing up. You know, I, when I was growing up, I was a voracious reader, but most of the books that I was reading were written by white men, by Anglo-Saxon, you know, men, many of whom were, you know, many of whom were dead. The women who I read were also, you know, they were white, they were American or they were British. And I just didn't, you know, it didn't bother me. I loved these books, right? grew up, you know, just sort of madly in love with these stories. But it never occurred to me that, you know, that, that I could write, you know, books like this, right? Or that I could really

write any kind of books. I mean, you know, just to give you some context, too, there weren't any, you know, Asian American writers when I was little. I think Maxing Hong Kingston didn't publish warrior women until I was in my 20s. Amy Tan didn't, you know, Joy Luck Club wasn't published until I was, you know, in my late 30s. So there just, there weren't any models that I was aware of. And, and so, you know, I just had this sense that, you know, that this was off limits to me somehow. I just didn't realize that, that I could do it. And I remember when I was, when I was in high school, for example, just starting to write, sort of casting about for a form, a literary form that I felt that I could comfortably inhabit and really not finding one. And I remember, too, thinking, well,

you know, maybe I should try writing haiku, you know, because that was something I was kind of culturally entitled to. But, you know, I'm very verbose and very wordy. And my whole orientation toward, you know, towards storytelling is more novelistic. And so the idea of kind of fitting all of this into 17 syllables just really never, you know, never really worked for me at all. So in any case, I mean, it really wasn't until I, you know, I became a filmmaker and, and, you know, did all of that. But it wasn't until I sat down to write that I, and this was at the age of 39, I think,

I started to write my year of meets that I realized that I wanted to tell the story from the point of view of a mixed race person, that that was important to me because the story I wanted to tell was a story that was essentially bicultural. Half of it was set in the U.S. and half of it was was set in Japan. And it was very much about cultural representation and misrepresentation. It was a book about television, so it was a book about about one of the protagonists is an American mixed-race woman. Her name was Jane Takagi Little. And she's a documentary, she's a TV producer, right?

And she's making this television show, a cooking show, kind of a cooking reality show, for distribution in Japan. And so the other character is a Japanese woman who's watching this, right? And so writing from this perspective of someone who straddles two cultures, and is trying to represent one culture to the other culture is something that I think, well, I mean,

growing up I felt very much in that position myself and certainly in the work that I'd done in television, you know, it was a position that I found myself cast in as well. And this book, The Puller Book, I mean, it's faced many challenges by translators in capturing the essence of, say, Seanagon's writing and your book, A Tale for the Time Being, it's been translated we said in the intro 28 times. Do you feel, I mean, can you know, can you ever know if the essence of your writing was translated as you'd have hoped? Do you speak 28 languages? How can you ever know? No, no. You know, but you can never know, you can never know in English either. You know, I mean, I wrote the book in English for English speakers. But, you know, all I can do is when I'm writing is to

write it as clearly and as, you know, accurately and as precisely and as beautifully and as beautifully as I can, right? Once it leaves my computer and goes out into the world, it has a life of its own. I mean, I remember, you know, when I first started writing, feeling kind of not upset exactly, but feeling disturbed or, you know, when people misread the book somehow, right? But then I realized, too, that there really is no such thing as a misreading. You know, it's more just that, you know, when the book goes out into the world, you know, it becomes not mine anymore. It becomes a collaboration. And I think essentially that's what writing is. Writing is a collaboration between a writer.

and a reader. And I do my part, you know, and then the book goes out into the world. And then the reader brings, you know, her life experience, lived experience to the page and brings the book to life in a completely different way. And so it's a, I think it's really quite a beautiful phenomenon, really. It's the alchemy of fiction, you know, in that we think of, you know, the book of form and emptiness as a book, a singular object, but it's not. It's an array, right? It's an array of experience. and it's constantly changing, but that's exactly why it's alive, right? And the reader will take what they need from it, when they need from it, because, you know, I can read the same book at two different parts of my life, two different stages of my existence,

and it will mean something completely different because it becomes alchemy with my existence. And the way that I read and the way that I live and the way that I love and breathe, and you don't read the same book twice. You never, exactly, you can't read the same book twice. because you are always going to be different. Yeah. That's right. Always in flux of motion. The book is alive.

We'll talk about your second book, which is, I mean, it really is alive because it pulls on every single heartstring. It makes you feel every single feeling. And it's A Little Life by Hanya Yanagara, shortlisted for the women's prize back in 2016. This is the story of four graduates as they embrace the seemingly limitless possibilities of their bright New York City futures, but which did. descends into a dark and involving tale of toxic relationships and the scars of childhood. When did you read this book? Can you talk me through how it impacted you, how it made you feel?

Yeah, I didn't read it when it first came out because I think I was scared of it. I had heard, you know, I had heard, I'd read reviews. I'd heard people talking about it. It, you know, it's a, it's a book about trauma. And I think, and it's also very, very fat. No, it's a big old book. It is a big, massive book, right? And so I don't know whether it was the content that scared me or just the heft. But in any case, I remember putting it off because I was writing at the time, too. And I was working on, you know, the book of form and emptiness at the time. And I just couldn't take the time away to, you know, to read this massive book. And then it was very interesting because I was also teaching. And my students would come in and they would, you know, very often talk about their favorite books. And several of them mentioned this book, mentioned a little life.

And so I began to, I began to get really intrigued. You know, what is it about this book that is appealing? to my college students. And one of the things, too, is that Hanya Yanagihara went to Smith College, which is where I also went and which is where I teach. And so that was a connection that I had with Hanya and maybe that was partly why the students were reading it because, you know, they knew that she was an alum. I'm not sure.

But in any case, they really loved it. And so that made me even more determined to read it. sat down, I remember sitting down to read it and literally just not being able to put it down. I mean, you know, it's this, it's this massive tomb. I don't remember how many pages there are, but I could not stop reading and I could not stop turning those pages. And it was interesting, too, because I recently was doing a library event at a high school in Boise, Idaho. And the librarian asked me, what was a book that I wish I had read when I was a high school student, you know?

And I thought about it. I mean, it's one of those impossible questions, you know, what is the one book that, you know, fill in the blank? And it's just, you know, my mind immediately goes blank. But then I thought about this book and, and I realized it probably would be this. You know, if this book had existed when I was a high school student, I wish I would have liked to have read it. And, and I say that partly because, you know, of the content of the book, but also because one of the things I admire so much about this is that Hanja Yanagiara is not writing from a place of identity, you know, or at least overt identity, you know, the way that we,

the way that we often define identity these days, you know, she's not writing, you know, from a female point of view. She's not writing from, you know, an Asian point of view. She's writing about four men, right? And, you know, there, even today, I think that is a fairly unusual and fairly bold move, literary move, right? And I wish that I'd, I wish I'd known that that was possible when I was a high school student, because I think I would have wasted a lot less time. And what were you like as a high school student, as a teenager? Well, that's the other thing, is that I think I was fascinated by suffering, you know, because I was suffering so tremendously, right? I mean, we do, right? And as teenagers, I was certainly,

yeah, I was, you know, very, very interested in writing. But I think I was in a lot of pain. You know, I was, I was trying to come to terms with some, you know, traumatic stuff that I didn't really understand and couldn't yet name. So I think there was that. I, the, what saved me really when I was a high school student, I think, was the group of people I was hanging out with. I was a member of the high school literary magazine. And we took ourselves very seriously. You know, we, as only teenagers can, right? I know it.

I do know it. And, you know, and so we, you know, we would have these editorial meetings and, you know, we were all smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee, black coffee. And we would have these very serious editorial meetings. And we really thought that we were, you know, Virginia Woolf and, you know, F. Scott Fitzgerald and, you know, Faulkner and Hemingway. I mean, we, you know, we were these people, right? And so we took our pain and our suffering very seriously.

At least that's how I remember it. But it was, you know, it was a wonderful thing. And many of the students, you know, who were in my cohort in high school have gone on to become writers of fiction and nonfiction poetry. You know, it really was a remarkable group of people. Susan Minot was in my group and Julie Glass and David McAulis. Anyway, there was a large group of us who, you know, who were involved at that point. Your Women's Prize winner book, A Book of Forman Entiness, is about the deep solace that can be found in books, in reading, in escaping to those worlds when you need to. And I read in an interview actually that you said,

books saved your life when you were young. Is that through that group of people, or is that books in general throughout the course of your childhood? It's books in general. It's both, really. It's the group of readers and writers who I, you know, was a student with in high school and in college as well. But also, I think it was just the relationship with writing and with books, with writing and

reading. You know, it was always a place that I could escape to. I'm, you know, I was an only child. My parents were both quite old for, you know, to be parents. They had me when they were 42. So, and they were both scholars. So our house was very quiet and, you know, we would eat meals together, but the rest of the time, you know, they were involved in their own, you know, reading and writing projects. And so I was really left to my own devices and that meant reading. And so I was, you know, I was just a, I read constantly as a child. It was, it was such an important part of my life. I remember, My mother, you know, I also took, you know, music lessons and I played the piano and the flute. And I remember, though, the conflict of having to practice, you know, practice the flute at the, you know, when I was in the middle of, say, reading Jane Eyre.

And, you know, and again, you know, you can't put it down, right? So I remember, I remember balancing Jane Eyre on the music stand, right? And learning to play scales and arpeggios while reading. right, you know, and playing and then turning the page and playing more. Talk about multitasking. I know, I know, I know, I know. Bailey's is proudly supporting the women's prize for fiction

by helping showcase incredible writing by remarkable women, celebrating their accomplishments and getting more of their books into the hands of more people. Bailey's is the perfect adult treat, whether shaken in a cocktail, over ice cream, or paired with your favorite book. Check out baillies.com for our, favorite Bailey's recipes. Well, that brings us onto the third book that you've brought with you today,

which is Harriet the Spine. Hi, Louise, Fits You. Harriet the Spy has a secret notebook that she fills with utterly honest jottings about her parents, her classmates and her neighbors. You've got it there in front of you every day on her spy route. She observes and notes down anything of interest to her. But when Harriet's notebook is found by her schoolmates, their anger and retaliation, And Harriet's unexpected responses explode in a hilarious way. How can you pick this one? You know, I was obsessed with books about girls who wanted to be writers. Or in this case, I mean, Harriet very much identified as a writer.

She was a tomboy. She was, you know, she was not a kind of idealized little girl character at all. She had a mean streak. She was just relentlessly honest, which is what got her into trouble. And, you know, she was curious and she had this spy route. She lived in New York, right? And she had this spy route that she would go on and observe people and write down all of her observations and her opinions about things. and there was, you know, this just spoke to me.

I mean, that's the kind of little girl I was and wanted to be, you know. She had, you know, she had her little spy tools, you know, she had, you know, a flashlight that she hung from her belt and a, you know, not a Swiss Army knife. I had the Swiss Army knife, but you know what I mean, like a little, you know, knife that she would carry with her and a little. for her notebook and I don't know. I mean, it was just everything about her was just, you know, it was aspirational. And, you know, I mean, just to show you how deep this goes, this is my, that's yours from, this is no, it's now. I still use these. I was like, it's in great Nick. No, no, I still order these composition notebooks. I order them and I use. I order them and I them. It's my, it's my journal, you know? I've got, I've got a couple here as well. I like to journal

every morning, every evening. Just what's going on? And I'm adding to it lists things that make the heartbeat faster. That's right. That's right. In the journal too. Why did you become a writer? I mean, you said about being verbose and wanting to get all of these words out. I think that was it. I mean, I think, you know, part of it was that I didn't really have, I mean, I had playmates. I had friends when I was growing up at school. But, you know, a lot of the time I was at home and didn't really have anybody to talk to, except for my, you know, my diaries, my journals. And so that was, you know, it was like having friends, you know, having a, you know, somebody I could talk to who would never get tired of me and would always be interested and

always be willing to listen. And, you know, so I had this kind of a conversation with journals that has really continued. I mean, I still do this. I do this in my composition notebook, but I also have a separate journal, a process journal that I reserve just for writing. And it's the place I can go to when, you know, I mean, I write in it almost every day when I'm, you know, when I'm seriously working on a project. And it's a place where I can just kind of dump my ideas and my fears. and my speculations and, you know, if I have questions, I'll just ask a bunch of questions into the journal. And somehow, you know, just the act of asking a question invites answers, right? So I've found that, you know, if I can just write down a question or a series of questions, then it's almost like it activates, you know, or opens a loop in my brain. And then some other part of my brain, some unconscious part of my brain, starts to, it goes to work on finding answers to these questions.

So very often, for example, if one day I, you know, we'll write down a bunch of questions, the next day, suddenly I'll know what the answers are, right? So, you know, I use the process journal for that, you know, just about anything, really. It's just a place where it's more like a persona, you know, or a facet of self, you know, somebody I can talk to, again, who never gets bored, who never gets tired of my complaining, you know, and is willing to listen. It's time to talk about your fourth book today, which is a writer's diary by Virginia Woolf, an invaluable guide to the arts and mind of Virginia Woolf. from the personal record that she kept over a period of 27 years, included are entries that refer to her own writing and those that are relevant to the raw material of her work. And finally, comments on the books she was reading.

We were getting very meta here. She's not doing as well. Why did you pick this? Well, first of all, I have to be a little bit more specific and say that it is this particular volume of Virginia Woolf's arrival. diary. It is the Persephone Books edition that I bought when I was in London when I went to Persephone Books. And I just think it is so beautiful. I had a different edition when I was in

high school and when I was in college. But when I found this and something about the end papers and the, you know, this dove gray cover, it just thrills me. So in any case, I started rereading this when, you know, after I bought it after my trip to London. And I'm trying to think now, I guess I was, I had just finished a tale for the time being and was in London probably doing the publicity for that book and picked up this copy then. and started reading it and again just was thrown back to high school, which is when I first started reading Virginia Woolf. And I think there was probably a long period in there where I didn't read Virginia Woolf.

So, you know, it was kind of, you know, I was having this experience of deja vu, of feeling of, you know, of having read the diary back in high school when I was still writing haiku and, you know, trying to figure out, you know, trying to figure out how to be a writer. And then years later, decades later, coming back to the book and reading it, having just published my third novel. And of course, as you so beautifully put it earlier, I was a different person, right? So the lived experience I was bringing to Virginia Woolf's diary three decades later was completely different.

And so it was like reading a different book. And I was able to appreciate things that she wrote about writing and particularly about publishing that I never could have appreciated back when I was 15, 16 years old, right? And it was, so it was a, it was a feeling of almost coming home in a very profound way, coming back to, coming home to this thing that was, this text that was so familiar on one hand, but also, you know, that, that, that I felt was completely new, that I felt like I'd never really understood before. And, and that was a, that was a powerful, powerful feeling. You've said that reading is an act of empathy.

It helps us connect with others to understand their perspectives, to walk a day in their shoes. How does this influence the way that you approach writing? Do you bear that in mind when you're creating your characters, when you're writing your pieces? What advice would you give to writers who want to create that empathy in their readers? You know, I would never think of it as, I guess I would never approach it from that perspective,

which strikes me as a kind of what, that's the end point. That's the result, right? So it's quite emotionally manipulative to feel like, this is what I need people to feel. Exactly, exactly. What's important for me is, and if people empathize with the characters in the end, great, that's wonderful. On the other hand, if they don't, that's okay too. What's important to me when I'm writing is just that I am able to enter the,

the body, mind of my character and inhabit it as fully as I can and as completely, as intimately as I can. And here, too, is where meditation is very helpful in the kind of meditation that I practice. It's a very physical kind of, you know, it's a very physical kind of practice in that you're very sitting perfectly still with your eyes kind of down, and but all of your senses are open, right? And so you're just very, very acutely aware of everything that's happening in the moment, all of, you know, with all of your senses and your mind.

And when I'm writing, very often I will think of the scene that I'm writing and the character who I'm writing and I'll close my eyes at the computer and I'll close my eyes and in my imagination sort of cast my mind, into the body mind of the character and do the same kind of exercise tuning in to and opening all of the sense gates, you know, the eyes, the ears, the nose, the, you know, the mouth, the tongue, you know, and really in that state of, you know, with all the senses open, just investigate the scene, right? Try to understand, you know, so what's in the room?

looking around, what's in the room? What is my character? You know, what is she feeling right now? What is she hearing? What is she tasting? You know, what thoughts are going through her mind? You know, just trying to kind of open up to the subjective experience of the character as fully as I can. And then to very quietly sort of start to write from that place.

And it just reminds me often that characters, You know, we're very visually oriented, you know, in this culture. And one of the problems I think that I am constantly combating is to, you know, to sort of be too internal with my characters. And so just to remind myself that characters have five senses and their mind, you know, is very, very useful. It's just a kind of, yeah, it's just a way of reminding myself to use to take advantage of, of, You know, all that we can sense, you know. They exist in the world. They exist in the world.

That's right. That's right. That's right. Your fifth book, Shelfy book is the brilliant Pyrenezzi by Susanna Clark, winner of the 2021 Women's Prize for Fiction. This strange and a beautiful novel just weaves a rich, fantastical vision of a very singular house and its mysterious inhabitants. When I said its name there, Ruth, you sort of clutched at your heart.

Tell me why you did this. I do clutch at my heart whenever I think about this book or whenever I recommend it to people. You know, I wouldn't have read this book, I think, if it hadn't been for the women's prize. Let's just start by saying that. Yeah. I remember when I was a judge that year, I remember when we were picking the long list and reading it for about 50 pages just going, no, no, not for me, not for me. Like, why would it? And then boom, once you're in, you are in.

Oh my gosh, transporting. Transporting. Absolutely transporting. And I started, I think I started listening to it as an audio book. Okay. And it was very beautifully performed. But after a little while, you know, maybe half an hour or so, I realized that it was going too fast. and I just wanted to slow it down.

And so I went out and bought a hard, you know, a physical copy of the book. And then I proceeded to do both, listen and read the book. So I'd listen to some of it. And then I'd go back and read that passage so I could have the experience of seeing it on the page. And then I would listen to the next bit. And then I would read the bit. And when I finally got to the end of both, I went back and did this thing. all over again.

I didn't want to leave the world. Right. And even now, when I think about it, I'm not even sure why exactly, but I just get choked up. You know, it's a very emotional book for me. And I think, you know, I kind of understand why there's something so amazing about the narrative voice, Peraenaise's voice, which is, I just, it's hard to describe. It's just exquisitely naive and trusting and honest and guileless and completely unironic. And at the same time, there's a kind of overarching dramatic irony that's going on because of course, little by little, you start to understand as the reader that the world is not what Perrinisi thinks it is.

And that, in fact, you know, that he's an unreliable narrator, but he's the most beautifully unreliable narrator, you know. And he's such an, he's so exquisitely precise in his, you know, in the way that he kind of notices things and catalogs. And here, too, it's interesting because, you know, I go back to now, to the first book, to the pillow book of Seishonagon, right? The Pyrenees lists and his observations, right? And the incredible detail, you know, of the statues, for example, and the tides and the oceans and the, you know. So in a way, there's a kind of, there's a kind of, what, you know, a kind of documentary, um, uh, aspect to this as well. I mean, he is, he's documenting

the house, right? And he's documenting all of the goings on in the house. Um, it's just a book like no other. It really. Yeah. And I, I just love it. And now even talking about it makes me want to go back and read it yet again. I think the other thing, too, is that I'm a, I'm a, uh, a huge fan of, um, the Argentinian writer Borges. Jorge Luis Borges, right? Yeah. And, you know, so this, I think, this book reminds me of, for example, the Library of Babylon. And no, sorry, Babel, the Library of Babel or the Garden of the Forking Paths or, you know, other books of Borges.

It's got that same attention, exquisite attention to detail and also this unborn. believable magic. So it incredible. Utterly transporting. Biranesi, of course, was the winner of the 2021 women's prize. And you said to yourself, you probably wouldn't have picked it up had it not been there, had it not been sort of suggested to you and shows the power of the prize, how important it is. What was your own experience of winning the women's prize last year? Oh my goodness. I honestly did not expect it. It was the, it truly was the last thing I expected. I had a full day. of plans lined up for the day after the award. I had, you know, people I was going to see. I was,

you know, going to go with a friend to get a manny petty. I mean, which I never do. I mean, you know, I never do that. But, and I didn't, right? No, I, I, this is all just to say that I, I had no idea, you know, it was completely unexpected. The other books, in the, you know, who were nominated on, you know, on the short list were so wonderful. And I guess what I really come away with is that, that yes, it was wonderful to, of course, it was wonderful to win the award. And it was wonderful to be in that cohort of women writers and women readers and, you know, the entire cohort of the women's prize, right? it's as I as I think I said you know this has been being part of women's institutions has been a very very important you know it's been in very important part of my life I would not be a writer had it not been for the support of of the women who I've met in my life and so to be able to be part of that women's lineage was was really you know was and is continues to be very very special

And I just feel very grateful. Oh, and long may it continue because it is just absolutely brilliant. Ruth, my final question to you is if you had to choose just one book from your list that you brought today as a family, so the hands just gone straight to the mouth, you look shocked and appalled as a favorite, Ruth. Which one would it be and why? Oh, my God. That's so unfair. I'm so sorry. That is so unbelievable.

unbelievably unfair because they're all so different. How can you ask me that? I don't think, yeah, we've spoken about how you need different books at different times in your life. And it's obviously all impacted you for different reasons at different times in this one moment right now. So we're not going to hold you to it because it changed in an hour. But in this one moment right now, which one means the most to you? That was a very Zen thing you just did. I just want to point out. That was very good. That was very skillful.

Fine. I'll say it, Pyronezzi. Okay. Yeah. Yeah. And it's partly because in preparation for talking to you today, I felt I should revisit it. And I started reading it again.

And I felt excited and inspired. And I think that's why I'm choosing it. It inspired me to. to write and to read again. And yeah, so that is priceless. And on that note, you're back in. I'm going to leave you to Pyrinaezy to be transported to that world once again. But thank you for joining us in hours on the podcast.

It's been such a joy to speak to you. Thank you so much. It's been so much fun. I'm Vic Hope and you've been listening to the Women's Prize for Fiction podcast. This podcast is brought to you by Bayleys and produced by Birdline Media. Thank you so much. for listening and I'll see you next time.