odd diversity in the rural margins of the nation and in our cities. If I were a different writer, I’d see the odd diversity in the suburbs and planned communities. It’s certainly there. For me, human endeavor is all grist for the mill. So many individuals with their quirks and defeats and achievements, so little time to write about them. MM: The stories focus on many careers (cowboys, missionaries, newspaper reporters, railroad men) that are becoming obsolete or rare in our modern world. What does this say about the character of small western towns? Is a fiction writer engaged in an occupation that will also be increasingly rare? AH: I actually think that storytellers are in a growth industry. Stories— the narratives that knit us together—are in higher demand than ever. Americans crave narrative. We like beginnings, middles, and ends. We like resolution to our conflicts—clean, upbeat resolutions. And we become anxious when our national narratives (like the Iraq War) don’t have clean endings. I love to listen to people tell one another stories. That impulse hasn’t weakened a bit. Folks may not be reading as much as they once did, but they are still talking to one another via stories. There’s also no doubt that I like to write about working people. I like people who have physical jobs. I like people who have to go out into the world and do things with their hands. I like people who are passionate about their work, even if they are hanging onto that passion by their fingertips. MM: There is a strong theme regarding outsiders that runs through the stories. Where do you think that sense of not-belonging somewhere comes from? AH: All of the fiction I’m drawn to features outsiders, so I’m not conscious of that trend in my work. I’m not sure I would know how to write about an “insider,” though some people have done it well. The West is filled with people who have come here to remake themselves, to start over, to change the focus of their lives, to succeed in some American way that seems important to them. I am fascinated by that impulse. I am drawn to people who strive in places where striving is difficult. They seem to want to be outsiders—independent cusses—even as they want to be accepted for their pursuit of some kind of monumental American dream. There’s a powerful contradiction embedded in those two wants. MM: In “Brief Lives of the Trainmen,” the roles of the railroad workers are something that one might encounter in a brief summary on a display in a county museum anywhere out west. Yet your characterizations bring them to concrete life and give them depth. Describe the research that you did for this story (and others in the collection) and how you’ve humanized that history. AH: That story began with a photograph. I’d never seen a work train be76 theMeadow
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy ODQ3NA==