Yanara Friedland has worked as a journalist, translator, writer and teacher in both Europe and the U.S. She is currently finishing her PhD at the University of Denver and writing her first book length collection of (hi)stories. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Les Editions Maelstrom, The Herald Magazine, Nomads Magazine, Drunken Boatand Quarterly West.
Her story "The Moths" appears in Issue Thirty-Eight of The Collagist.
Here, Yanara Friedland talks with interviewer Joseph Scapellato about subtle voyeurism, being "taken over" by voice, and the PhD in Creative Writing. Enjoy!
1. Where did “The Moths” begin for you, and how did this piece get to here?
“The Moths” started when I was living in a small room in a quiet suburban neighborhood of Denver. The neighborhood is mostly residential and unnerving in a peaceful orderly kind of way. My room, in which I wrote, slept and stared, had large windows that overlooked the garden and my neighbor’s garden. Initially, I paid no attention to the ongoings, mostly children playing or being ushered into cars, but after a while a subtle voyeurism crept in. I started to pick up on my neighbors’ routines and rituals. It wasn’t an active watching but rather a background noise that became part of my daily awareness of the environment. Over time a subtle map developed inside of my mind. Then a burglary occurred, and there was a noticeable shift in the energetic pattern of the map. Now everyone was watching each other and within this collectively heightened state I began writing. The story was written in May and the moths were, needless to say, outrageous. The story burst forth during this daily accumulation of random observations and the armies of moths. My writing is in some way always about place, but “The Moths” was the first serious attempt to illuminate not the conclusive sentimentality of looking back at a place but cast a glance at the connective webs that are continuous and presently spun.
2. I love how the the narrator flits from topic to topic in a moth-like way—the many single-sentence paragraphs give the feeling of landing and taking off. We sense that we’re in a “spiral flight path that gets closer and closer” to a number of “light sources.” This passage seems to be describing the narrator’s approach: “When a moth encounters a much closer artificial light and uses it for navigation, the angle changes noticeably after only a short distance.” Can you talk a little about the challenges and pleasures of writing in this voice, and what surprises it led to?
The most exciting writing for me happens when I am “taken over” by a voice, not necessarily in a haunted way (although that can be potent too), but rather when the piece arrives with an undeniable vision and authority as to how it wants to be written. I did not consciously decide to write it in single line paragraphs but the writing asserted itself in such a manner. I was amazed at the connective potential and still feel that this piece could go on endlessly, that there are further layers and insertions that do not necessarily plot around a particular event but gather the world in its fragmented winded rhythm.
3. I read in you bio that you’re finishing up your PhD at the University of Denver. Is it a PhD in Creative Writing? If so, how has it affected (or crystalized, or clarified) your relationship to your writing?
Yes, it is a PhD in Creative Writing, a strange thing to wrap your head around, especially if you are from Germany, where Creative Writing departments are only now gaining some currency. Most people don’t quite understand how you can “learn” or for that matter teach Creative Writing. Yet I have benefited enormously from being part of this program. Mostly because it has allowed me to have a bunch of very sophisticated readers look at my work on a regular basis, but also because it gives the space, time and money to pursue strange investigations, read even stranger books, and then write the strangest of them all at your own pace. I am grateful for the language, material and beautiful artistic oddities I have been exposed to as part of my PhD.
4. What other writing projects are you working on right now?
First and foremost I am finishing my book, a collection of short stories, re-imagined tales inspired by the Old Testament, family histories and dreams. A kind of totemic writing for my tribe. Second in line is a translation project, work by the German poet and visual artist Unica Zürn. Eventually, this should be more than just a translation of her work and include contemplations on her struggles with mental illness, her self imposed exile and her short but deeply visionary life. The third project is too raw to talk about at this point but it looms and elbows occasionally above and into my daydreams.
5. What knock-out writing have you been enjoying recently? Are there any upcoming releases you're excited about?
The most exciting release this year (or ever), for me personally, has been New Direction’s reissue of five of the major Clarice Lispector novels. A stunning collection, including the never before translated posthumous work A Breath of Life, marvelous book covers, and a diverse pool of translators shedding new light on these texts. It’s a powerful homage to one of the greatest female writers of the 20th century, and I am deeply grateful for New Direction’s acknowledgement of Clarice Lispector’s timeless relevance.