Background

Where were you educated?

I attended John F. Hughes School in my home town of Utica, New York, and then Utica Free Academy. And I was an undergraduate at Harvard College, where I took a degree in modern literatures and aesthetics, which is essentially comparative literature and philosophy. And I am afraid from then on my education was in the world of writing and books and magazines.

I attended John F. Hughes School in my home town of Utica, New York, and then Utica Free Academy. I became an undergraduate at Harvard College, where in 1981 I took a degree in Modern Literatures and Aesthetics, a "special concentration" which was essentially comparative literature and philosophy. From then on I'm afraid I pursued my education in the world of writing and books and magazines.

Before you took off to confront the world, what did you read as a young person?

Well ...

Well ...

Everything?

I think I did read everything. I was a very ardent reader as a young person, as my parents were. We essentially sat in the house after dinner and everybody had their book while the TV was going, which is something I can no longer do. I don't know how my parents managed. I read a good deal of fiction when I was in junior high school and high school, and actually in college, too. I still do read a lot of fiction.

Well, I was a very ardent reader as a young person, as my parents were. We sat together in the living room after dinner and everybody had their book open while the television was going, which is something I can no longer do. I don't know how my parents managed. I read a good deal of fiction when I was in junior high school and high school, and in college, too. I still read a lot of fiction.

I had begun reading an awful lot of history in college. My father is a very serious amateur historian and he got me interested in history from a very early age. We had a small house in the Adirondacks, just north of Utica, and we would drive up the forty-five minutes to get there. When you are very young this is an eternity, of course. During those drives he would tell stories, which began when I was very young, stories from The Iliad, the story of Hector, of Achilles. At the time I didn't know anything about The Iliad, of course. From the Old Testament, Samson and Delilah, David and Goliath. Those were favorites. And I would beg him for them after awhile.

I had begun reading an awful lot of history in college. My father is a serious amateur historian and he got me interested in history from a very early age. When I was two or three years old, my grandfather built a small house in the Adirondack mountains, just north of Utica, and every weekend we would drive up the hour or so to get there. When you are very young an hour in the car is an eternity, of course, so to keep us quiet during those drives my dad would tell stories. This began when I was very young -- stories from The Iliad, the story of Hector and Achilles. At the time, of course, I knew nothing of The Iliad. And he would tell stories from the Old Testament: Samson and Delilah, David and Goliath. Those were favorites. And after awhile I would beg him to tell them.

As I got older, he would tell more sophisticated stories; eventually reaching his favorite topics, which had to do with twentieth century history, in particular World War II, in which he had fought. He always said that his original impetus for learning about history was that he had fought in the war and, as he put it, he never knew what the hell was going on. So after he got out of the navy -- he had been in the South Pacific, off of Okinawa, and other places -- he began reading about the war and eventually started reading about World War I, and is still delving into those subjects. So I remember again and again him telling me about how World War I began in Sarajevo, the various interests of the players involved. Giving me these intricate descriptions. And I was fascinated by it. So I don't remember the first time that he started telling me stories. I was so young.

As I got older, my father began telling more sophisticated stories, eventually reaching his favorite subject, which was twentieth century history -- in particular World War II, in which he had fought. He always claimed his original impetus for reading history was that he had fought in the war and, as he put it, "the entire time I never knew what the hell was going on." So after he got out of the navy -- he had served on an aircraft carrier in the South Pacific, off of Okinawa, among other places -- my dad began reading about the war and eventually, as one will when seeking to understand history, began working his way back, to World War I. He is still delving into those subjects, which are, of course, quite literally unfathomable. So I remember my father telling me again and again how World War I began with those pistol shots in Sarajevo, how the various interests of the players involved came into irresolvable conflict. As we drove up into the Adirondack Mountains I remember my father giving me these intricate descriptions, and I was fascinated. I don't remember the first time that he told me those stories, I was so young.

Obviously, this was pointing you in a direction that you were later to pursue first-hand and in greater detail. How would you summarize the values that you drew from your parents?

Well, I would say first of all the primary values, I think, were decency, I hope, and how to lead a straightforward and decent life. This is what they emphasized again and again. And also the importance of doing something, of pursuing an interest, a field of endeavor, a career, however you like to phrase it, that made me happy and that was rewarding. My father was a dentist and it was very common, I think, for dental, medical families -- and all their friends were either doctors or dentists -- to press the children, particularly the sons, to follow in their footsteps. There wasn't any of that in my family, and my father emphasized again and again that I should do what I wanted as long as I could support myself. And I have tried to achieve that. I am not sure the latter part I have quite achieved.

Well, I believe the primary value was decency -- they emphasized the importance of leading a straightforward and decent life. This is what they told me again and again. Also the importance of pursuing an interest, a field of endeavor, a career -- however you prefer to call it -- that would make me happy, that was personally rewarding. My father was a dentist, and it was common, I believe, for dental and medical families -- and most of my parents' friends were doctors or dentists -- to press the children, particularly the sons, to follow in those footsteps. There wasn't any of that in my family; my father told me again and again that I should do what I want as long as I could support myself and my family, live a respectable life, and take pleasure in what I did. And I have tried to achieve that. I am not sure I have quite achieved the former, but I'm working on it.

Where did you learn to write? I know you were an editor of a high school paper.

That's right. Co-editor. Must not forget my co-editor, Sam Weinberg.

No -- co-editor. We must not forget my co-editor, Samuel Weinberg, who is now a professor at the University of Washington.

And you won an award for best high school paper in New York State.

That's right, and to my mind that is still the greatest achievement of my life. The UFA Corridors was the second-oldest continuously published high school newspaper in the country. It began before the Civil War. This high school was very inner-city and didn't have much money. That award always went to high schools from Long Island that were very prosperous and so on, and we did [win it] when I was a senior. We actually got the award when I was a freshman in college, and we traveled to Syracuse to be in the competition where we won it. But it was a momentous achievement, because no one had heard of this school and we were very proud.

That's right, and to my mind that is still the greatest achievement of my life. The UFA Corridors, or so it was said, was "the second-oldest continuously published high school newspaper in the country." It began before the Civil War. Utica Free Academy was very large, located in a rapidly deteriorating inner-city; the school didn't have much money. Now, the coveted "Best High School Newspaper" award always went to high schools from Long Island, and so on, that were very prosperous, and then when Sam and I were seniors we won it. We actually got the award when we were freshmen in college, and Sam, who was attending Brown, and I traveled to Syracuse to be in the competition. It was a momentous achievement, because few had heard of this school and we were very proud.

I did a lot of writing for the high school newspaper. I did not write for The Crimson in college, although I took the writing I did for my courses very seriously, not always the reading, but I did take the writing very seriously. And I am not sure where I said I learned to write but I just was always very serious about writing. I guess I could also trace a little bit of this to my parents. My mother's side did a lot of writing in her life. Both my parents, thank goodness, are still alive. My mother did a good deal of writing. She would write poetry. She did songs for the local women's organization and things like that. She was thought of as very artsy, as the phrase was in those days. And I, from as early as I could remember, was very serious about writing papers, even in grammar school, so I don't know where that came from.

So, I did a lot of writing of all kinds for the high school newspaper -- news stories, features, sports, editorials. I did not write for The Crimson in college, although I took the writing I did for my courses very seriously -- not always the reading, but I did take the writing very seriously, partly because I always had great difficulty writing and suffered tortures, as it were. And I am not sure where I learned to write but I just was always very serious about writing. I guess I could trace a bit of this to my parents, as well. My mother did a lot of writing -- she would write poetry, she wrote songs for the local women's charity organization and things like that. She also sang beautifully and was thought of as "very artsy," as the phrase was in those days.

What writers did you admire most as you began to read more seriously?

I liked Mark Twain an awful lot when I was growing up. Earliest, I was a great fan of the Hardy Boys. I must say that.

I liked Mark Twain an awful lot when I was growing up. Earlier, I have to say this, I was a Hardy Boys fanatic.

Did you read all of them?

I did indeed read all of them. Not only did I read all of them but I would write these plaintive letter to Franklin Dixon, whose existence is somewhat in doubt. (We don't want to admit this to viewers who are too young and disillusion them.) I would write these plaintive leaders asking when will the next book be out. I was very interested in those Johnny Quest books. Later, as I mentioned, Mark Twain. Eventually I was very interested in Albert Camus whose work I really liked a lot, and Sartre. I actually humiliated myself in high school by going up the librarian and asking her if she had anything by "Albert Camuss." I thought myself very serious at the time. She always reminded me of it. I was given to European writers at the time. I read a lot of Herman Hesse who was very popular at the time, and who I liked a lot. And that brought me to Thomas Mann and Death in Venice which I loved, and André Gide. I read a lot of European books. I don't know why that is. They had a certain glamour, and that is certainly what I was reading in junior high and high school.

Yes, not only did I read every one of those toothsome blue volumes, but I would write these plaintive letters to Franklin W. Dixon III, the putative author, whose existence I now fear may have been somewhat in doubt. I would write these plaintive leaders asking when will the next book be out. And after I consumed the Hardy Boys mysteries, I became very interested in those Johnny Quest "sci-fi" books. Later, as I mentioned, I began to delight in Mark Twain. Eventually I became interested in Albert Camus whose work, especially The Stranger, I really liked a lot, and Sartre. I actually humiliated myself in the high school library by apporaching the librarian and asking if she had anything by "Albert Camuss." I considered myself very serious at the time, and her smirking correction of my error, which she never failed to remind me of, was very painful. I was given to European writers at the time; I read a lot of Herman Hesse, who was then very popular at the time -- this is the late 1960s, early 1970s -- Hesse brought me, through his letters, to Thomas Mann and Death in Venice which I loved, and to Andre Gide's Immoralist and Counterfeiter. I guess I did read a lot of European books. I don't know why that is. They had a certain glamour, I suppose, and that is what I was reading in junior high and high school.

So after college you decided to become a writer. Correct?

I don't think it is correct. This may be a semi-convoluted answer from a lot of people who write for a living. I never really remember making a decision to become a writer. I think certainly by the time I was in college I assumed I would become a writer. I would certainly not have the nerve if someone said "What are you going to do when you get out of here?" to actually say, "Oh, I am going to be a writer." That seemed much too brazen or presumptuous. And indeed I don't think I would say it even now. There is a sense that if you have people you admire greatly who are writers -- I always tend to think, well at some point I will be a writer, even though indeed I make my living from it now . I certainly did not decide on graduating from college. I spent the summer after I graduated in a small apartment in Harvard Square lying on my back and living on fried rice delivered from a Hong Kong restaurant. This pink building. I got to know the deliveryman very well. If I knew then what I know now, I would say I was very depressed. At the time I thought I was resting, I think. I didn't know what I wanted to do. I couldn't admit that this was what I wanted to do. By happenstance, I came to work at the New York Review of Books. In retrospect, who knows if it was by happenstance? But at the time it seemed like it.

I don't think that is correct. I'm afraid I have to give you a semi-convoluted answer of a sort which is perhaps not that uncommon from people who write for a living. I never really remember making a decision to become a writer. I think certainly by the time I was in college I somehow assumed I would become a writer. Now, if someone had asked, "What are you going to do when you get out of here?" I certainly would not have had the nerve to say, "Oh, I am going to be a writer." That would have seemed much too brazen or presumptuous. And indeed I think I'd have trouble saying it even now. In a sense, if you have people you admire greatly as writers -- well, I always tend to think: "At some point I will become a writer"-- even though, indeed, I make my living at it now. I certainly did not decide on this path on graduating from college. I spent the summer after I graduated in a small apartment in Harvard Square lying on my back and living on fried rice delivered from the "Hong Kong Restaurant," a famous Harvard Square establishment housed in a decrepit and distinctive pink building. I got to know the deliveryman very well. If I knew then what I know now, I would have said I was very depressed. At the time, however, I thought I was resting, In truth, I didn't know what I wanted to do -- or, rather, I couldn't admit that this was what I wanted to be. Almost by happenstance, or so it seemed, I came to work at the New York Review of Books. In retrospect, who knows if this was by happenstance? But at the time it seemed like it.

What was your first big project as a writer?

When I was at Harper's. I was editing various articles and at the same time a section that then appeared monthly called the forum section and that was a discussion amongst people we invited on a given subject, and I would do the introduction to it and edit it monthly. I then went from Harper's to Haiti which is a subject that turned out to obsess me. I am still working on it in one way or another. It is a country that is fascinating to me. I went to Haiti to do a piece for Harper's. In the event I wound up publishing it at The New York Times Magazine some time later. But it was a story -- there are these stories that seize you. At the time I went to Haiti, Duvalier was at the end of a thirty-year dictatorship.

When I was at Harper's. I edited various essays and articles and held responsibility for a section that then appeared monthly called the forum and that usually took the form of a discussion among people we invited on a given subject, and I would write the introduction to it and edit it, and also sometimes serve as moderator. Harper's editor, Lewis Lapham, then offered me the chance to write a piece from some far-flung foreign clime, and I chose Haiti. This place turned out to obsess me. I am still traveling there, working on it in one way or another. Haiti fascinates me. Though I went to Haiti to do a piece for Harper's, in the event I wound up publishing it at The New York Times Magazine some time later. But it was a story -- well, just say there are stories that seize you. When I first went to Haiti, Duvalier had just fallen, after a thirty-year family dictatorship.

This was what year?

This would be 1986. I had earlier done for The Times a fairly long piece on nuclear weapons. I had done a number of things. I think if you look back and say "What is the first serious piece of writing for publication?" it would probably be this story on Haiti. That was five years after I graduated.

This would be 1986. I had earlier written for The Times Magazine a piece on nuclear weapons. I had done a number of things. I think if you look back, however, and ask "What is the first serious piece of writing you did for publication?" it would probably be this story on Haiti. That was a full five years after I graduated from college.

And the Haiti piece resulted in three long articles in The New Yorker.

That's right.

That's right.

When one reads these articles, lo and behold, there is a lot of history there.

Yes, that is true.

Yes, that is certainly true