"I write to keep life from getting lost"
Q&A with Eliza Minot, author of IN THE ORCHARD
One of the joys of my reading year has been discovering literary fiction that resonates with my experience of early motherhood. It’s not that I haven’t encountered stories of motherhood in fiction before, but—until recently—I haven’t seen the stories of mothers given the same artistic weight as other human experiences. I didn’t know how badly I craved books that are stylish, structurally innovative, poetic, and about motherhood until I found them.
In the Orchard by Eliza Minot is one of those books. As soon as I closed the final page, I reached out to Eliza to see if she would allow me to ask her a few questions. I was desperate to know how she was able to capture the experience of early motherhood in a way that felt both viscerally embodied and soaringly poetic. I wondered how she saw her single day, stream-of-consciousness novel in conversation with other titans of the genre. I’m so grateful that Eliza accepted my invitation, because reading her responses to my questions was—quite honestly—magical. The way she thinks about living and mothering and memory and art is so moving, and helped me see not just her book, but writing as a practice in a whole new light.
Before I get to the Q&A, I want to say that this book and this interview might be for you even if you shy away from books about motherhood. As Eliza says, “The romance and intensity of early motherhood underlines so profoundly the most fundamental and universal mysteries of life that we all share.” There is so much beauty and wisdom in Eliza’s response and in her book—I hope you’ll find something that moves you no matter who or where you are in life.
You can find In the Orchard on Amazon, Bookshop, Libro.fm, or your favorite local indie. Follow Eliza on Instagram, her website, or her publisher’s page.
Sara: How would you describe In the Orchard to readers who are interested in picking it up?
Eliza: In the Orchard is a lyrical meditation on the wild surrealness of being alive- of thinking, grieving, loving, and growing within the weird constraints of time, memory, and a physical body. It’s also an ode to the early years in the “orchard” of becoming a mother and caring for small children. The romance and intensity of early motherhood underlines so profoundly the most fundamental and universal mysteries of life that we all share.
More specifically- haha! - the book follows a young mom of four young kids, Maisie Moore, through the first half of an October day. We meet Maisie in bed in the middle of the night, nursing her newborn. She is deliriously hormonal and exhausted as she thinks about people, moments, and aspects of her life amidst reflections on how best to live. In the second half of the book, the family heads out of the house and into the world for their annual trip to an apple orchard. There, Maisie has interesting encounters with some intriguing characters, and things get a bit bizarre.
Sara: Can you tell us a little about your inspiration for this novel and how it came into being?
Eliza: I had four kids within six years, so I was completely immersed in that gorgeous yet harrowing “orchard” world or childrearing for quite a while! Initially, I set out to write a novel called AMERICAN STANDARD about young families grappling with the housing crisis of the late 2000s. As I wrote, particularly about a newborn baby who eventually became Esme, my mind kept steering me towards the specificities of a young mother’s experiences. In general, I write things down to clarify my own thoughts, but I also write to keep from forgetting things, to keep life from getting lost. Raising kids had been such a massive part of my life, and there were so many aspects of it that I didn’t want to forget. From that rich terrain, Maisie’s backstory, her general reflections and anxieties, took root. The more I wrote, the more I was specifically aware that I had wanted to read a literary book that took a young mother’s nuanced thoughts and point of view seriously, and with sustained focus. So, I tried to write something like that.
The more I wrote, the more I was specifically aware that I had wanted to read a literary book that took a young mother’s nuanced thoughts and point of view seriously, and with sustained focus. So, I tried to write something like that.
Sara: I loved the stream-of-consciousness style of In the Orchard. As a writer, how did you structurally plot and craft Maisie's series of reflections? Did the writing itself take on a stream-of-consciousness flow or did you plan out the order in which Maisie's memories and reflections would occur?
Eliza: Thank you, Sara! And that’s a really interesting question! The answer is both: The writing itself took on a stream of consciousness flow AND I rearranged Maisie’s memories and reflections. Certain motifs, themes, and images became more apparent as I wrote. The more I wrote, the more those motifs and images sort of organically came into Maisie’s thoughts and memories to braid in and out through the overall narrative. I’d step back, cut, paste, move things around and add or subtract to make threads more balanced and effective. Stream of consciousness felt very natural and effective in illustrating the contradictory mindset of a new mother- distracted but vigilant, free-flowing but disciplined, claustrophobic but also expansive, spacy but astute- all with inadvertent poetry coursing through it.
Sara: As I was reading your book, I kept thinking about classic day-in-the-life, stream-of-consciousness stories I've studied and taught like Ulysses and Catcher in the Rye. These novels are very masculine, but are often framed as universal in classroom settings, and I really appreciate the way In the Orchard uses similar devices to go deep into the experience of mothering. Did you feel in conversation with texts like these as you were writing and/or were you inspired by other more "feminine" stream-of-consciousness narratives?
Eliza: Oh I love that you were thinking about those day-in-the-life stories, and also how you point out that they’re framed as “universal” despite being very masculine. I absolutely felt in conversation with those kinds of texts not only because I love their overall engines of a voice-driven, clever stream-of-consciousness, but also because I was deliberately trying to record things that a male would not record, or even that a male could not record (like breastfeeding or postpartum contractions).
All our lives we hear the universal “man” and “mankind” in reference to human beings. I certainly, as a younger reader, took at face value that the male point of view was basically the universal one. Everyone alive, regardless of their gender, is fluent in “man” language and “man” perspective, but not many males even speak “female”. I loved reading Catcher in the Rye as a young teen, and loved what I read of Ulysses in college- I don’t think I read it entirely since I don’t remember specifics- however I DO remember best of all Molly Bloom’s final soliloquy... which makes me think right now of Virginia Woolf, and how, despite having only dipped in and out of Woolf’s works, and having only read fully To The Lighthouse (in college, and it was way over my head) and more recently “On Being Ill”, I definitely feel Woolf’s vibe, her swell of stringed sentences, her joy of language and her intelligent curiosity has made an important, overall impression on me, in terms of stream-of-consciousness. Katherine Mansfield is back there too, in my darkly lit writer subconscious, as a uniquely female voice, with her vibrant perceptive sentences that I’m so drawn to. But then there’s also Denis Johnson, like Jesus’ Son with his rare, beautiful, crystalline prose that breathtakingly captures simultaneously the sacred and the mundane, tenderness and violence, all side by side and with humor- I just love it. Omg the free association here could get out of hand…
As far as “feminine” inspiration for this book, there were certainly books that I’d read that dealt with maternal themes in a literary, playful and smartly poetic way that contributed in some way: Jenny Offill’s Dept of Speculation and Lydia Davis’ story “What You Learn About The Baby”, Rachel Cusk’s A Life’s Work and Outline series, Elena Ferrante’s The Days of Abandonment, Helen Simpson’s Getting A Life.
Sara: The imagery you include to describe such visceral experiences like nursing or stroking a newborn's hair is so poignant and resonant. You manage to portray the animalistic nature as well as the beauty and poetry of these moments. How did you go about capturing these experiences in writing?
Eliza: That is very kind of you to say. Thank you. Managing to portray the animalistic nature of being alive alongside life’s wacko beauty and poetry is I think everything I strive to capture when I write. How does one capture it? I don’t know! I think of looking at moments almost like with a camera, but a camera that has all sorts of wild dimensions, and that’s coming from my heart more than my brain. I zoom in like a close-up to the contours of a moment- its emotion, how it looks, how it feels, how it smells, what is said- and try to record it with words. Hopefully something comes from the capture, and it’s something that can only get captured in words on a page. Sometimes there’s something, sometimes it’s a fizzle out.
I think of looking at moments almost like with a camera, but a camera that has all sorts of wild dimensions, and that’s coming from my heart more than my brain. I zoom in like a close-up to the contours of a moment- its emotion, how it looks, how it feels, how it smells, what is said- and try to record it with words.
Sara: As much as In the Orchard is about motherhood, it is also about debt and money and economic anxiety. The way these two themes interact is so brilliant, especially in how it also impacts Maisie's identity as a stay-at-home mom. Can you tell us a bit about how economics and motherhood are entangled in this story?
Eliza: It’s all so hard. What is value, right? All the priceless things in life- love, thoughtful intelligence, kindness- are completely invaluable, but we all definitely need money. Economics and motherhood are entangled in Maisie’s story in the same way I think that they’re entangled in most life stories. I also think economics and motherhood are entangled in the same complicated way that capitalism and misogyny are entangled… and by that I mean that they’re entangled in a way that I can’t specifically identify beyond writing a female book that hopefully leans away from the patriarchy by giving literary attention to an almost vilified area of life (childrearing) that is so full of poetry and imbued with meaning. I’m embedded in life, and my interest is reporting from that embedment (is that a word?) and its human interior, keeping track, counting the beans, of how being alive feels as a certain person, in this case as a young woman with little kids who is no longer actively earning money. The loggerheads of caring for a baby and working is so central to any mom’s life, and because I had initially focused more on writing about financial anxiety, it would have felt strange NOT to have the two entangled.
This complicated money entanglement also extends to literary fiction and the marketability of books. When I read the sentence “Here is a mother’s rich and nuanced inner life, here is an author granting recognition denied by society” (written by Jessamine Chan in the NYTimes Book Review in her review of my book) I felt such intense gratification that an important transmitted message was clearly received. Does that gratification translate to money and book sales? Not so much. But maybe, in the long slow burn of art, the value of that message will contribute in some small way to an attitude shift and change, which is big value.
Sara: While the book never shies away from the challenges of parenting, I appreciated seeing how much Maisie generally and genuinely loves motherhood. That's not something I've seen depicted in a lot of literature! I'm wondering if you intentionally wanted to depict that ethos or if it came out naturally in Maisie's character?
Eliza: Yay! The “not something I’ve seen depicted in a lot of literature” is music to my ears. The more I wrote about Maisie, the more intentional I became about giving this cornerstone of life– no one would be living without it! There would be no society, no civilization without the birthing and caring for children!- the recognition and veneration that I think it deserves and yes I intentionally wanted to depict that rapturous feeling of love to counterbalance some general ideas. So often “motherhood” is condescended to, particularly by sophisticates and intellectuals. Even mothers themselves are tired of mothers, and I understand why as I can relate to all the aggravations. It’s not fun all the time, it’s generally undervalued and exhausting, it’s super challenging emotionally and physically, and despite being transcendent in so many ways, it’s so intimate that even its transcendence and joy, as well as its intense frustrations and difficulties, are so uniquely personal that it can feel overwhelmingly isolating, terrifying, and frustrating. And when a person is isolated, terrified, and frustrated, it makes perfect sense to feel resentful, angry, and trapped. On the flip side of that anger, “motherhood” might bring to mind twee butterflies, binkies, and infantilized women who have somehow lost all of their cool and smarts, or harried mad suburban women, barefoot hippies breastfeeding... there are so many reductive stereotypes- I could keep going!- that all have a bit of truth, sure, but motherhood is as broad as death is broad, or friendship is broad, or love is broad. I wanted to intentionally emphasize the plain extraordinariness of being a mom, the transcendence and joy that maybe gets lost in the shuffle, without sugarcoating it. Making the life of another human being and being responsible for that life- it is the trippiest of all trips- and if love and joy grow out of vulnerability, there’s no question that motherhood is fierce breeding ground. I’ve just learned so much from my kids, and from raising kids.
I wanted to intentionally emphasize the plain extraordinariness of being a mom, the transcendence and joy that maybe gets lost in the shuffle, without sugarcoating it.
Sara: I don't want to spoil the ending for readers, but I'm interested in how you determine a stopping point for a novel of this kind. How did you decide on the tone and feel you wanted for the ending to Maisie's story?
Eliza: I wrote the last few sentences of the book years before I knew what I was writing. I had no idea what world those sentences would speak for, but I had their tone long before I knew what I was writing about. Without giving anything away, the ending seemed to be the best confluence of thematic threads throughout the book alongside the overwhelm and slippage of self that new mothers experience both physically and emotionally, and maybe even the almost partial erasure of voice that women experience, particularly when their devotions lie with children. I also wanted to evoke the stunning wonder, danger, and grace wrapped up in the mundane workaday regular-ness of nature’s bearing new life over and over.
Sara: There are so many elements of this book that I haven't even touched on: the experience of losing a parent as a child, the depiction of middle marriage, and the questions about faith interwoven throughout to name a few. Is there anything else about In the Orchard that you want readers to know going in, perhaps especially for readers who aren't sure if a book about motherhood is right for them?
Eliza: Two readers- a man and a woman- on completely separate occasions said something to me like, “This book is as much a book about motherhood that mothers should read as Moby Dick is a book about a whale that ship captains should read.” Both of the readers mentioned Moby Dick- which is random!- but both readers told me that they thought the word “motherhood” all over the jacket and in reviews might estrange readers, which I understand. Even as a mom I’m sometimes tired of hearing about moms. As much as I intentionally wrote a book that centers on a young mother and I wanted to shine a light on an area of life that doesn’t get validated (particularly in literature) often, In the Orchard really is a book about being alive and trying to grasp existence by making meaning of memories, love, grief, time, anxiety, and the fragility of not only our own bodies but of the bodies of the people and the world around us, which is what every single human being is contending with, all of the time. Yes, the main character is a woman who just had a baby, but she’s first and foremost a human being trying to get a grip. And, as you mention, there are many other elements in the book like losing a parent as a child, parenting without parents, practicing ice hockey, girls, married life, generational alcoholism and recovery, city living, friendship, older people, the bounty of the natural world, small tender moments... It’s for anyone!
The development and care of young people is the basis for all loving, which is pretty much the basis for all human connection and alienation. It’s the source of absolutely everything, and we’ve all been a part of it.
Sara: FictionMatters is built on the idea that fiction matters because it has the power to illuminate the world and transform readers. Can you share a few books that matter to you?
Eliza: When I was writing In The Orchard, these two books were nearby. I usually always know where they are:
All About Love by bell hooks
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
Some additional books:
Dept of Speculation by Jenny Offill
Days of Abandonment by Elena Ferrante
Outline trilogy and A Life’s Work by Rachel Cusk
Getting a Life and In the Driver’s Seat by Helen Simpson
Collected Stories (What You Learn About The Baby) by Lydia Davis
Mrs Bridge by Evan S. Connell
In the Orchard really is a book about being alive and trying to grasp existence by making meaning of memories, love, grief, time, anxiety, and the fragility of not only our own bodies but of the bodies of the people and the world around us, which is what every single human being is contending with, all of the time. Yes, the main character is a woman who just had a baby, but she’s first and foremost a human being trying to get a grip.
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Happy reading!
Sara
Love seeing love for this book! I just interviewed Eliza yesterday and felt even more connection to her writing.