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A Conversation with Meg Mullins
Would you share with readers the
source of the original idea for the story of The Rug
Merchant?
Originally, when I first conceived the
short story, the idea was based on a couple of family
anecdotes that I conflated into one story. I was six when my
grandmother died suddenly. Home alone, she'd had a heart
attack and collapsed on the bedroom rug. When she fell, she
hit her head and the wound left a small pool of her blood on
the rug. A few days later, my grandfather silently carried
the rug to the curb for the trash collector and stood there,
waiting, until it was picked up and taken away. That image
haunted and inspired me. But as often happens in fiction, an
image or an anecdote that may have sparked the idea will
become almost unrecognizable in the end. Then, after
finishing the short story, I had fallen in love with Ushman
as a character and was compelled by my curiosity to continue
writing about him as a man trying to find his way after a
devastating divorce.
You have captured the essence of Ushman's character so well - both his inner and outer life.
One can do research on the factual differences between
cultures, but how do you penetrate the heart and soul of a
character when his background is so different from your own?
The beauty of humanity is that none of us
is so very different at our core. As I was writing about
Ushman, I never felt he was unlike me. I certainly have a
great respect for the vast differences in our cultures and
our backgrounds, even our genders, but I loved discovering
similarities, too. Love and pain, loneliness and desire are
universal experiences and we are all linked by them. Stories
that I admire are usually those that remind me of the power
of empathy, the natural human ability to feel deep emotion
for those outside of ourselves.
As a short story writer who has now
written your first novel, would you talk a bit about how the
writing process differs between the two forms?
For me, the thought of writing a novel was
more than a little terrifying. I wasn't sure I could
maintain my focus over two years. But what I discovered was
that the process is very similar. It's still a sentence at a
time. The gratification of a finished product is delayed,
but the excitement of a first draft is extended.
The Rug Merchant beautifully
illuminates how people from dramatically different cultures
can still connect in a powerful way. In light of the current
state of the world, (the Iraq war, 9/11), what role, if any,
do you think books such as yours and literature in general
play or should play in either educating the public or
shaping public opinion? Was setting the novel pre-9/11 a
deliberate choice, and how, if at all, might the story have
been different had it been set post-9/11?
I don't think literature has a role in
educating people about a specific issue or current event or
shaping public opinion aside from the lessons that
literature teaches us about life in general. Again, for me,
it goes back to the question of empathy. A great book's
beauty is that of looking at the world through different
eyes, if only for a short time. I definitely chose to set
the novel pre-9/11, simply so that there would not be a
greater temptation to make assumptions about an entire
people or culture based on one man's story. On the other
hand, as America was invading Iraq, I couldn't help but be
much more aware of the real and actual devastation we were
causing on the ground to real and actual people, not just
"Iraqis." I think there is a tendency to dismiss a group of
people about whom we feel we have little in common - a group
of people who live in a country far away with different
customs and beliefs. It's tempting to believe that perhaps
they don't feel pain or loss the way we do. That somehow it
must not affect them as much as it would us. Whereas, if we
realize that each of those casualties or fatalities is a
husband or a brother or a wife or a mother or a cousin or a
playmate or a lover, it becomes much more difficult to
overlook them - much more difficult to pretend that pain or
loss feels differently if you're living in the Middle East.
The mothers in the novel certainly
cause their offspring much angst. Stella is tortured by her
mother's obvious mental instability, and Ushman is tormented
by his mother's self-pity. Would you talk about the role of
the mothers in your story and how, or if, becoming a mother
yourself influenced your writing?
Mothers are women with children. There is
no magic that delivers us from angst and doubt. As a young
child, though, both of my parents seemed utterly stable and
untroubled. It was a huge gift that they didn't allow me to
see their difficulties. I never worried about them or knew
if they were struggling. Gradually, as I grew up, I
understood that, of course, they each had their own
difficulties. When I became a mother I secretly hoped that I
would be admitted to some club in which all of life's
questions are answered. I'm still waiting. It's nearly
comical to me when one of my kids stumbles upon some
terrific existential question and looks at me for the answer
as though it should be as easy for me to answer as "What's
for breakfast?" Becoming a mother is extremely humbling. I
think that is good for writing. To be reminded of all that I
don't know- of all of the wonder in the universe- is a
tremendous inspiration for me.
When their relationship ends and they
are discussing the future, Stella reminds Ushman, "Don't
forget that there is joy, too. You can't leave that out of
your sad stories." Does Stella's statement reflect your own
"life philosophy"- i.e., do you believe there is some joy in
every story, no matter how tragic?
Stella's point of view is something I'm
trying to cultivate. Deep down, I struggle against a very
cynical nature. Having recently lost my father to cancer, I
am drawn to philosophies that remind us of our inability to
understand the complexity of life. And I try to see the joy
in the smallest of details, the way my father did before he
died. Just the magnificent color of a blue summer sky can be
heart-stopping. In that same way, a true and meaningful
connection felt between two people, even if it ends
unhappily, is a miracle. I tell myself to be grateful for
the pain of grief or loss because it is a direct result of
the intensity of love or joy that has been felt. And those
feelings are life's gifts. So, yeah, don't forget the joy.
What books have inspired you in the
past and what authors are you currently reading?
I have been hugely inspired by many
contemporary books, such as Charles Baxter's The Feast of
Love, Jeffrey Eugenides's Middlesex, Jhumpa Lahiri's
Interpreter of Maladies, Nicole Krauss's The History
of Love, and many, many others. But I also return often to more
classic authors like Grace Paley, Virginia Woolf, Jane
Austen, Anton Chekhov, William Faulkner, and Vladimir
Nabokov.
What are you working on next?
I'm working on another novel that I'm
sorry I can't say anything about. I find it very difficult
to describe a project while in the middle of it - I am afraid
of breaking the spell.
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