Transcript
David Remnick (0:01)
From One World Trade center in Manhattan, this is the New Yorker Radio Hour, a co production of the New Yorker and WNYC Studios.
David Remnick (0:10)
Welcome to the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick.
Tommy Orange (0:19)
You get down to the train platform and appreciate the cool wind or breeze or whatever you call the rush of air the train brings before it arrives, before you even see it or its lights, because of how much it cools your sweaty head.
David Remnick (0:34)
That's a young writer named Tommy Orange, reading from his new novel. There. There.
Tommy Orange (0:40)
You find a seat at the front of the train. The robot voice announces the next stop by saying. Or not saying, exactly, but whatever it's called when robots speak. The next station is 12th Street, Oakland City Center. You remember your first powwow? Your dad took you and your sisters after the divorce to a Berkeley high school gym where your old family friend Paul danced over the basketball lines with that crazy light step, that grace. Even though Paul was pretty big and you never thought of him as graceful before. But that day you saw what a powwow was, and you saw that Paul was perfectly capable of grace and even some kind of Indian specific cool, with footwork not unlike breakdancing and the effortlessness that cool requires.
David Remnick (1:37)
Tommy Orange's book is a remarkable debut novel about identity and belonging. He sat down recently with Deborah Treisman, the New Yorker's fiction editor.
Tommy Orange (1:47)
So, yeah, I was not a reader. I didn't do well in school. I didn't really much care. I didn't really even have curiosity about most intellectual things. And then I became a musician and I went to school for sound engineering and came out of that with no job prospects and got a job at a used bookstore in Oakland. It's right outside Oakland, San Leandro. And there was a moment I was on break from the bookstore and I was parked outside of a donut shop eating a donut and reading Confederacy of Dunces. And I realized what the novel could do. And, you know, in that moment, I knew I wanted to write one. And I wrote really weird stuff for a while. That was not. I don't even know if you could call it fiction or nonfiction or. Once I realized that I was going to include details about my own life, I think my writing changed and took on more form and moved away from experimentation.
David Remnick (2:49)
And at some point, you found your way to the Institute for American Indian Arts in Santa Fe and you did an MFA program there.
