 photograph by Jana Birchum |
Redd is not what I expected. Surely, I thought, the creator of a character like Lacy
Springs — a white survivor of childhood abuse who has an affair with an
African-American blues musician, spends a weekend in the Harris County jail for
kidnapping a student, and experiences epiphany at Graceland — surely the sort
of person who can write a wildly funny, wildly sad book like Playing the
Bones is going to be maybe a little wild herself. I envisioned her with red
hair, probably because Lacy Springs has red hair; I envisioned her as louder,
older, messier, the kind of woman who slurps her coffee, sits ugly, and laughs
loudly.
Louise Redd sips her iced coffee, thank you, and sits as nicely as a graduate
of Dallas’ Hockaday Girls’ School might be expected. Although she turned 29
last October, her un-madeup face, surrounded by long, neatly brushed blonde
hair, looks perky enough to be a West Austin cheerleader’s, in spite of the
wire-rimmed oval spectacles perching on her button nose. There’s a particular
kind of reserve, which I associate with proper upbringing, about her, a kind of
diffident restraint; she laughs often, but it’s a quiet laugh, suitable for use
in church and your more upscale restaurants.
It’s hard to imagine this woman teaching “problem” children in Houston, or
cleaning houses in Colorado to pay her bills. Harder still is it to imagine her
sitting down to write a first novel like Playing the Bones. Louise Redd,
I think as I slurp my coffee, is the kind of woman that frowsy-haired, cackling
women like me normally find it easy to dislike. Except for one thing. When Redd
says “I’ve always wanted to write,” she is as serious as a heart attack.
Austin Chronicle: Everything in Playing the Bones — the plot
structure, the style feels more mature than you might expect a first novel to
be. And Lacy Springs is a wonderful character, of course very sexy but also
very strong. Is Lacy someone you’d like to be?
Louise Redd: Well… I wish I were more like her. I mean, she’s much braver,
and more interesting, and more daring and wilder than I am. I think it would be
fun to be her for a while. It might also be tiring (laughs).
A.C.: What, to you, is Playing the Bones about?
L.R.: Well, to me it’s about questions of self. About Lacy learning to be happy
by herself and with herself. For much of the book, she’s occupied with these
man problems — should she be with Ellis, her husband, the nice guy who’s
totally sweet to her but dull, or with Black Jesus, the wild blues singer? And
the answer to that question is neither of them is right for her. To me, it’s
really about her learning to be happy alone. Because I don’t see how anybody
can be happy in this world unless you’re happy by yourself.
A.C.: I saw the book as a coming-of-age story, about learning to say yes and
no at the appropriate times.
L.R.: Oh, she’s terrible at saying no. And part of that is that she’s a
sexual abuse victim. She was molested as a child, and didn’t have the power to
say no. So as an adult, she’s learning what most people learn in childhood. She
has to learn to say yes to herself and to what she wants.
It’s interesting to me how people interpret the ending of the book. Reviewers
come out and say, “At the end of the book, Lacy is walking up a hill, to be
reunited with her husband…” I just read those and think, what are you, crazy?
No way is Ellis going to be there, waiting for her.
A.C.: (Yelping in shock) No… really? I’m so disappointed.
L.R.: (Laughing) I’m sorry. Well, I shouldn’t say there’s no way he’s
there, because I don’t know his character as well as I know Lacy’s character.
He might be there, he’s so sweet and forgiving. But… for me the important
thing is for her to be happy with the process of walking up there. That’s far
more important to me.
A.C.: What made you want to write this story?
L.R.: I got the idea to write it… I mean, I knew I wanted to write a
novel, that was just part of my general plan for my life at that time (laughs).
But I didn’t know what it was going to be about, or anything. And I had moved
to this little town in Colorado, in the mountains. I had quit my job teaching
school, moved to the mountains, decided to get a normal job that wouldn’t
stress me out at all. I have so much respect for anybody who can teach, because
when I was teaching school, I could not write a word, I couldn’t even fix
myself dinner, I would just come home and cry…. You get off at 3 o’clock, but
you do not get off at 3 o’clock. The kids do, but you don’t.
Anyway, somebody told me that, if you make a list of a hundred things that you
want, that in a year half of them will have come true. I just couldn’t imagine,
you write down a hundred things you want, and in a year you have half of them.
No way. But the thing that amazed me more than thinking half of your wishes
could come true was that anybody could want a hundred things. I mean, I wanted
one thing, one thing only, and that was to be able to write.
So, anyway, I got that in my head, the hundred things, and that was how the
story started to come to me. I’d be cleaning all day, polishing furniture and
thinking about my book, and then I’d come home and write a little of it. It
took me about a year and a half, just writing a little bit every day.
A.C.: Throughout the book, Lacy expresses her feelings through blues lyrics.
Why did you choose blues songs as a means of expression for her?
L.R.: I guess because blues — especially like Lightnin’ Hopkins and
Robert Johnson… old Delta blues — those songs just state the most primal
emotions in really simple ways. And Lacy is just learning, she’s almost
childlike in the ways in which she’s learning how to express her emotion, how
to say as simple a word as “No.” It appeals to her, I think. It’s simple, it’s
sexual, and it’s very emotional; the trauma of it really appeals to her. She
loves hearing blues songs about someone who’s really down and out. It fits with
her character. I’ve always been interested in how someone can sing a blues
song, and if you look at the words, it’s pretty horrible. But by virtue of the
fact that it’s musical, and there’s a melody, and you can get really excited
and happy about the music, you know, that takes away from the sadness of it….
Ironically enough, when I was working on the book I didn’t listen to any music
at all, I had no time.
A.C.: Has anyone commented on the interracial relationship between Lacy and
Black Jesus?
L.R.: I thought people would comment more on the interracial aspect of
it. I think people are just so scared to say anything about race that they keep
their mouth shut. The thing people have commented most on is the strong
language in the book, the heavy use of the word “fuck.” Like, The Houston
Chronicle, they gave me a really favorable review, but they said my prose
was “marred by an overuse of the f-word.” (Laughing) I was like, you
fucker…! One of my aunts told me she wanted to wash my mouth out with
soap. But people have really stayed away from commenting on any of the racial
stuff.
A.C.: I felt that, through Lacy, you described excellently the feelings I
think many white women feel in the company of people of other races, the
feelings of curiosity and unwanted privilege.
L.R.: Yeah. With Black Jesus, I really wanted to show how a woman could
be totally attracted to someone who isn’t, you know, all good and politically
correct, and Mr. Sensitive. He has a violent temper, he’s sexist, but she’s
undeniably attracted to him. He was a hard character to write. And I wanted to
show how, you know, a white person can feel really weird in a group of people
of other races. Because the tables are turned, you’re the minority…. When
Lacy’s touring with the band, and she’s in the van, she’s feels really
uncomfortable, like they’re making fun of the way she dresses and the way she
dances and the way she talks. She feels really out of place. If you are never
around anybody of another race, you might never get the chance to feel that,
but it’s an interesting feeling.
A.C.: Like being on the outside, looking in.
L.R.: Yeah, exactly.
A.C.: And now you’re working on your second novel?
L.R.: (Slowly) Yeah. I don’t really talk about what I’m working on until
it’s done. I just feel like it interferes with whatever process is going on in
my head if I talk about it too much. Which drives people close to me crazy,
because most people do talk about their jobs. I write all day, and then, you
know, my mom will call me: “What’d you do today? How’d it go?” And I’m very
reticent. “Fine.”
A.C.: Well, what can you tell me about it? Are there any themes in the new
book that carry over from Playing the Bones?
L.R.: Um… yeah, there’s a lot of mother/daughter conflicts. The mother
character in this book is a lot more fully explored than she is in the other
book. And she’s nicer. But other than that… not really. It’s set in Austin.
That’s my new setting. I’ve been away from Dallas and Houston too long to set
another book there.
A.C.: Are you working on this book any differently than the first?
L.R.: Oh, yeah, it’s very different, because I have all my time to
write. I mean, I don’t have to slave for the bulk of the day at some other job
and then come home to write, I get to write when my energy is at its highest. I
feel very lucky, being able to do what I want, exactly what I want from my job
my way, every day. It’s great.
When I was writing Playing the Bones, I wrote it in very small chunks,
maybe 20 minutes at a time. Everything I wrote turned out pretty well because I
would go to my job every day and think about it. And so, when I sat down to
write, I was ready. I kind of had it all formulated in my head. And now, I get
up and I write all day and I haven’t thought about it as much. It kind of comes
out a little junkier. I have to do more rewriting.
A.C.: Do you ever feel intimidated when you start writing?
L.R.: Oh, totally. I feel intimidated a lot. Especially if I’ve been
reading. Almost every book I read intimidates me. (Laughing) Occasionally, I’ll
pick up a really bad one, and I think, wow, I’m actually a better writer than
this person. And I just feel so happy. I love it when I read a terrible book.
A.C.: What consoles you other than terrible books?
L.R.: Well, I don’t know. A lot of times, I’ll write a letter to
somebody. Or I’ll read a good review of Playing the Bones, and that will
cheer me up enough. Like The Texas Observer wrote this really nice
review, and I’ve read that a couple of times on days when I was really bummed.
Writing is so solitary, it’s just me and my computer. It helps to just, well,
sometimes, I’ll call my mom.
A.C.: Why do you write?
L.R.: (Laughing) Because I’m not qualified to do anything else… I
guess I’ve just devoted most of the time that other people devote to a normal
career to writing. And it’s ended up being the thing that I’m best at, even
though I feel that I still have so much to learn.
I just feel really compelled to write. I really love it. And even when it’s
really hard, I still feel a lot better at the end of the day, if I’ve written.
Someone was saying to me the other day, “Well, do you ever take a day off?
Because you could.” But I don’t feel happy at the end of the day if I haven’t
written…. I feel really lucky. Most people hate their jobs.
This article appears in January 31 • 1997 and January 31 • 1997 (Cover).