Interview with Jim Fusilli
http://www.jimfusilli.com/

Jim, let me start out by asking why you set your books in New York City. Is it because you’re a native?

I grew up across the river from New York City in Hoboken, New Jersey, and it was a dominating presence in my life. I read the New York newspapers, listened to radio from New York, and many TV programs were set in Manhattan, especially crime stories like “Naked City” and “The Defenders,” so it was instilled in me from my earliest days. My grandfather had a barber shop in Manhattan, and I used to go see him as a kid. It just seemed to be the most fantastic place, full of energy and danger and excitement, and so much more than my town, which was dying at the time. At some point, I guess I decided I wanted to be in New York City, to be part of it.

One of my favorite parts of the series is the relationship between Terry Orr and his daughter Bella. Was that a part of the plan from the beginning?

Yes. At the heart of the series, I wanted to have a man who wasn’t unlike the hard-boiled guys of the ‘40s and ‘50s, but who also was someone who had to face contemporary problems and situations. To have the responsibility for rearing and guiding a daughter seems to me a modern situation fraught with potential complications, very few of which can be addressed by the sort of primal, stereotypically male behavior that can define Terry. Especially since many of those complications have to do with Bella, who is bright, precocious and determined to have a normal life, though she’s lost her mother and brother, and now has a father who loves her but treats her a sort of benign neglect.

Did you plan on a series when you started writing CLOSING TIME? And if so, did you set some things up for further down the line?

I’d planned a series; in fact, I sketched out storylines that would arc over as many as five or six books. I actually outlined, to one degree or another, nine books. I was probably overly ambitious, but I knew I wanted to have a strong, intimate relationship with my readers and I wanted them to have a sense of where I could go.
So I foreshadowed, probably obsessively so. My feeling is that if you’re writing genre fiction, you owe it to the readers to foreshadow properly. You have to if you want their trust, respect and loyalty, and if you want them to remain emotionally invested in your characters. The big twist in “Tribeca Blues,” for example, was foreshadowed in “Closing Time” and “A Well-Known Secret,” and I’ve had readers come up to me and say, “I knew that was going to happen.”
There’s a bunch of new information about Terry in “Hard, Hard City,” but if you listened to him through the other three books, if you really observed him, you probably already have a sense of what it is. If a writer foreshadows properly, when it comes time to reveal the information, you’re basically just confirming things for smart readers.
To me, the most interesting part of writing a series is having characters who grow and change in ways that are surprising yet utterly consistent with subtle aspects of previous behavior, and inviting readers to participate in that experience of growth and change. If not wasn’t so, I’d just write stand-alones. Frankly, the crime stories in my four novels have almost nothing to do with each other, which is why the books, even though they are linked by the characters and setting, work as stand-alones too and why you can read them in any order.

When you decided to write a novel, why did you decide on a mystery?

Those were my favorite kind of stories as a kid: Chandler, Cain, Macdonald, Himes; and then I moved on to people like Goodis and Thompson. I really liked Dorothy L. Hughes and Cornell Woolrich and Vera Caspary – she wrote “Laura.” John Franklin Bardin is someone I liked too. I wish more people knew about him. He was great. If you don’t know him, check him out. When I got to high school, I started reading mainstream fiction, but I’d always approach it like I was reading crime fiction. I remember starting “The Great Gatsby” and thinking, “This is a crime story.” I must tell you that this approach to my studies served me well. I was an English major in college, and I’d be sitting there thinking, “Mmm, ‘Richard III.’ Crime story.” And I’d be very content.
As a writer, I like the existence of a moral code and characters who work with or against that prevailing code. Crime fiction allows this to be the sum of the work – there’s a bad guy; here’s the good guy; uh-oh, the bad guy’s going to win; but then good prevails – or you can use the tradition as metaphor. In the Terry Orr series, for example, it’s a bit of both. The cases are genuine crime stories in three acts: Terry’s in trouble; Terry’s in worse trouble; Terry triumphs. But they are metaphors too; metaphors for Terry trying to learn more about himself, to find out who is really is.

In your own words, how would you describe Terry Orr?

He’s a nuanced character: clearly a moral man who committed to fighting injustice and restoring order, and a reliable friend, yet he’s ignoring Bella’s needs and is often indifferent to Julie, who loves him dearly. He’s smart but he cannot accept good advice from people he knows are reliable. He’s self-indulgent. I think it’s safe to say he’s emotionally immature, and that his problems precede the death of his wife and son.

Is there much of you in Terry?

Not much, no. We both like to read, and enjoy old movies. A friend of mine pointed out that we both wear Oxford shirts. Terry’s indifferent to money and the acquisition of things, as I am. We both like sports and the arts, though Terry’s approach to the arts is quite different than mine. He tries to find an intellectual justification for what he likes and I don’t. I just like what I like. Though I have to admit he voiced my feelings about the contemporary arts scene in “Closing Time.” I was in the Guggenheim the other day and I threw up my hands and walked out. Terry would’ve done the same. Bella would’ve thought all that bad art was funny.
An important part of our personalities, Terry and me, is that we yearned to be accepted into the fabric of New York City. But Terry dreads losing that acceptance. He fears reverting to what he was before he met Marina, which led him to write his book, buy a house on Harrison Street in TriBeCa, and became father to Bella and Davy. This is a prime motivation for all he does. That’s not me. I mean, I know who I am here and now. Of course, I’m older than Terry, so maybe he’ll learn to accept who he is now and understand that where he comes from is only part of his story.

Was it strange to read reviews for your own work after having written reviews?

I wouldn’t say strange, but surprising. I didn’t realize how instructive a well-written, well-reasoned review can be. And, to be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t realize how many major newspapers trusted reviewing to people who don’t know what they’re doing. My novel, “A Well-Known Secret,” was reviewed in one major daily by someone I know didn’t read it. But I’m always glad to see a well-written review, a thoughtful review, of my work, and, having spent a couple of years reviewing mysteries and crime fiction for the Boston Globe, I know it’s not an easy job.
I also enjoy the reviews by readers I see on Amazon and on readers’ websites. Those reviewers read with their hearts and minds, and they aren’t afraid to show their emotions in what they write. There’s a spontaneity to their reviews that’s really refreshing, and there’s some good insights too.

Do you write on a regulated schedule, or is it a little looser?

No, I write on a pretty rigid schedule. I approach it as a job, so I’m at my desk early and I work into the evening five days a week, and now that I’m doing a couple of treatments for films, I’m working Sundays too. The only time I’m not writing is when I’m researching and tightening the outlines I’ve done, and even then, I’m usually doing journalism. I’m not a big believer in inspiration. I think art is derived from craft, the application of craft, so I work hard to write better, more efficiently and to reach deeper into myself.

And speaking of reviews I know you also review music. Who are some of
your favorite performers?

I try to dodge that question because the answer suggests a bias. I’m open to most kinds of music, and I listen every day to bands and artists I’ve never heard before. A year ago, I knew next to nothing about Tord Gustavsen, Death Cab for Cutie, Josh Roseman, Enrico Rava and Stellastarr, but now I’ve written about each of them. I just did a piece for NPR on someone I hadn’t heard of two weeks ago.
Of course, I love Miles, Monk, Ellington, Dylan, Marley, Joni Mitchell, Tom Waits – that’s no big admission; it’s like saying you like Debussy or Tchaikovsky – and I just finished writing a book on the Beach Boys’ album “Pet Sounds.” (Continuum International Publishing Group; May 1, 2005) But most of the stuff I grew up with hasn’t aged all that well, and so much of today’s music is really good. It’s important to be open, not just as a critic but as a music fan too.

An entire book on PET SOUNDS? I’ve loved that album for years and just got
it on CD. What kind of things did you write about to fill a whole book?

I was happy to do it. It’s part of Continuum’s cool 33 1/3 series. I wrote in such a way that it allowed me to show how a work of art can have a profound impact, a life-changing impact, on one person – which is certainly true of “Pet Sounds” and me. Also, it tries to show how Brian Wilson’s complex and fragile state of mind was responsible for the work, and how the seeds of “Pet Sounds” were sown on earlier Beach Boys’ recordings, both musically and lyrically. I think the book strikes a balance so that it will appeal to devout fans of the album as well as to casual fans of the Beach Boys and ‘60s pop music. And, if you’ve read my novels, this book will tell you something about me that might reveal more about Terry, Bella and the themes of the series.

And on to old movies, what would be on your must own list?

“On the Waterfront” is the film that had the biggest impact on me, I think. It was filmed in Hoboken when I was a baby, and when I saw it as a teen-ager, I began to understand how art can clarify life. That movie is truer than truth, you know. It’s very hard to stand up, to confront wrong. The cost is great. And there it was, in my hometown, and I recognized all the behaviors in the film. Charlie the Gent and Johnny Friendly, they were familiar to me because I knew people just like them. I never did meet too many Terry Malloys, though. By the way, that’s where I got the name Terry for Terry Orr.
I’ll limit my choices to American films, or I’d list too many. “From Here to Eternity” – again, the character Maggio that Sinatra played was familiar to me – “Shadow of a Doubt,” “Double Indemnity,” “Sweet Smell of Success,” “The Hustler,” “Hud,” “North by Northwest.” I love Orson Welles, the enormity of his ambition, so I’d say “The Third Man,” “The Magnificent Ambersons,” “Touch of Evil” and “Citizen Kane.” “Taxi Driver,” the first two “Godfather” movies. The Coen Brothers’ films “Fargo, “The Big Lebowski” and “The Man Who Wasn’t There,” which is a tribute to “Double Indemnity.” “Quiz Show” -- there’s a line in that movie that just kills me, when Mark Van Doren finally tells his son how much he loves him. The way Paul Scofield delivered that line, it took my breath away.
I love film scores; I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with John Williams, Randy Newman and Elliott Goldenthal. John Williams told me stories about Bernard Herrmann; that was great day, in his bungalow at Universal Studios. There have been some recent movies with great, accessible scores – “Catch Me If You Can,” “Frida,” “Talk to Her,” “Waking Life,” for example. Have you ever heard John Barry’s score for “Playing by Heart”? I’d take those just to hear the music again.
For me, a movie’s greatness can turn on a single line, a single shot or a musical passage. Which is probably why I’m not a film critic.

Would you say that reading a great deal gives you an advantage in your writing?

Having read, yes. Reading, no. I really can’t read while I’m writing because the writer’s voice will creep into my work. Not his or her ideas, devices, tricks in plotting, etc. Not even technique, which I can identify. But a singular voice, yes. I have a visceral approach to art: I let it consume me, and I wait for awhile before I intellectualize it. So, if I read a powerful work with a distinctive voice, it’s in me and it stays there for awhile. I’ll even start talking in the writer’s voice if I’m not careful. So I have to go months without reading a novel.
I’ll read voraciously, for pleasure and for the experience of reading something fantastic, while I’m doing my research. I always have a big pile of novels waiting for me, and that’s where I get my reward for writing a book. I get to read again for a few months.

Do you view things a little different now that you are writing? Do you find your self observing things and thinking to yourself, “I could use that?”

That’s a good question. I’d say no because I can’t think of a single thing in my books that’s drawn from an incident in life. There’s been some things that have sprung from reportage: the distillation of attitudes in downtown Manhattan following September 11 that appear in “A Well-Known Secret,” for example. Some of the characters in my books embody attitudes I’ve observed in people; Harlan Powell in “Hard, Hard City” is a good example, and Ruthie Mallard in “Tribeca Blues.” I’m particularly offended by people who are proud of their lack of compassion, and people who turn against their family members to conceal their own lack of integrity, so I suppose it’s natural that those kinds of people turn up in my work as villains.
Sometimes, I’ll observe something and think nothing of it, and then later it comes to mind. I remember walking in Harlem and thinking about how the reality of some of the beautiful neighborhoods clashed with the prevailing stereotype, and that worked its way into “Hard, Hard City.” But at the moment of observation, I don’t think about whether what I’m seeing is usable or not. At least, I don’t think so.

In TRIBECA BLUES you tied up a few things that were there from book one.
While reading I felt that this would free up the series a bit to allow you
to expand the possibilities for future books. Would that be accurate?

I suppose so. In “Tribeca Blues,” I wanted to open up Terry a bit, to explore his compassionate side and to expose the roots of his behavior. So, yes, that he’s no longer looking for Weisz and no longer obsessing over his late wife Marina which allows the series to go in different directions. That’s true. He’s breaking out of his shell, though in “Hard, Hard City,” we see there’s an altogether different set of emotional problems that inhibit him.
Terry’s a more competent detective now, which offers other possibilities. Some new story lines open in “Hard, Hard City,”( release date:September 23, 2004) but there are also some unresolved issues from the earlier books. Bella is growing up and she’s chomping at the bit. That’s not unexpected, but her anger will manifest itself in surprising ways. Terry’s girlfriend Julie is in the story now, as is Bella’s friend Daniel, who readers really seem to like, and they’ll nudge Terry in new directions. Sharon Knight, the Executive ADA, is a big presence in “Hard, Hard City”; later in the series, her story will be the focus of an entire book. So I think it’s safe to say you’ll see change. But, that said, the series will always be about a troubled man in search of his identity and his daughter, who was compelled to develop an identity on her own.

What are you working on now?

I’m doing a stand-alone crime story that takes place in a small town in New Jersey in 1947. Also, I’ve completed the next Terry Orr book. I don’t know which book will appear first. Maybe the stand-alone. Maybe it’s time to show I can do something different. We’ll see. I’m also doing a couple of film treatments, and I may do another music book. I enjoyed doing the “Pet Sounds” book more than I thought I would. I’ve turned down several opportunities to write books about music, or more specifically, musicians. I turned down a fairly lucrative offer to do a big biography of a very popular British rock star of the ‘70s and ‘80s, but I didn’t want to do it. I may be open to that sort of thing now. I’m at that stage in my career where everything seems possible, so I just have to make wise choices. You know, be humble and make wise choices.

What is your favorite way to spend your free time?

My wife and I spend a lot of time together. We trawl around New York City, go to the movies, the theater, museums, restaurants. It’s hard for me to go to concerts just for fun, but I try to do it. I’ll slip into a late show at a jazz club now and then. We hang out with friends a lot. You know, I’ll cook something simple, typically Italian, and open a bottle of wine and put on some music. And we like to travel, so whenever we can get time off together, we usually go somewhere we love. I’m a big baseball fan, so whenever I’m on the road in the U.S., you can usually find me at the ballpark.

What would you say are the most dangerous distractions for you?

I have a mild form of attention deficit disorder, and I can be hyperactive, so fighting off distractions have always been a part of my life. I’ve learned to control these things – in fact, I credit my professional success to learning how to manage my need to jump from project to project. My wife calls me the world’s greatest multi-tasker, but I just developed working methods that allow me to indulge what, in other circumstances, would be deficiencies. You should see my “to-do” lists. They look like a schematic drawing from NASA. But they tell me where I am in every project.
At home, I have to be very careful not to step away from my desk and start noodling around with my guitars. I’m capable of deluding myself into thinking I’m actually practicing and that’s it the same as writing, which is bullshit. Burning CDs, that’s another one. When I get it into my head that I want to make a mix, I’m lost for a couple of hours. Remember, I’ve got about 2,000 albums to choose from.
But, like I said, that’s not usual. I just get to it and write. I’ve pretty well got it down now.

After your first book came out and you did some touring and such, were
there any surprises? Things you hadn’t thought of when writing the first
book?

Yeah, there were many, many surprises. I had no idea people would respond so emotionally to my books, and to Terry and Bella, particularly Bella. The questions I got at bookstores were fascinating. And letters too. I get a lot of e-mails from people who visit my website. Really penetrating comments and observations. All this communication reveals how much the readers bring to the experience of reading a book and exploring the author’s intentions. I really enjoy that, and what a revelation. When I was on tour, I’d go back to the hotel and think for hours about what people had said.
Also, I was unaware of how many fantastic mystery bookstores there are in the U.S. I’ve been to quite a few around the country, and I’ve learned a lot from the owners and staff. They usually have to kick me out after a reading because I’m asking so many questions. Without the support of the mystery booksellers, I don’t know where I’d be and I’m happy to tell them that. If a bookstore owner needs me, I’m there.
I also didn’t understand how generous and gracious mystery writers were. The community of writers is very strong and we tend to try to support each other. I talk to several writers a day via e-mail, and I try to have lunch with one or two at least once a week. It’s a tough way to make a living, and it can be a lonely life, so to have people you can share the experience with is invaluable. I think it’s essential to have the respect of your peers. These are the people who know what it takes. They know if you’ve got the chops or if you’re just a poseur. And you can’t set out to impress them. You just let the work do the talking.

Karaoke. A fun way to share time with friends or an instrument of the devil?

I’ve never actually been in a karaoke bar. I understand people have these machines in their homes. I know people like to sing, so if I had to choose I’d decline to call it an instrument of the devil.

What’s the most memorable thing you’ve heard from a fan?

I’m tempted to make a joke. I did a reading in Florida and a guy asked me why I wasn’t wearing socks. So I could say that sort of meaningless anecdote.
But I’ll tell you something. About a dozen people, New Yorkers mostly, have told me “Closing Time” was the first book they read after September 11 and that it brought them back into the world again. And I’ve heard from several people who’ve told me that “A Well-Known Secret” helped them understand what the residents of downtown New York went through in the aftermath of 9/11. I was very moved by those comments. They’re almost beyond comprehension. I’m so proud of that, and I don’t know what could be more meaningful.

If you could go back and talk to a younger Jim, say maybe at 16, would you
pass on any words of wisdom?

Be serious about school. Work hard. Don’t listen to assholes. Avoid cynics. Don’t be afraid to pursue your dreams. Have faith in your gifts. And I would tell that young boy that someday he will have a wonderful wife named Diane and a wonderful daughter named Cara and he will know what love is.

What has been your favorite vacation to date?

My wife and I recently went to the Foggia region of Italy. I was doing research for a Terry Orr book: In a forthcoming novel, Terry and Bella return to Foggia, which is where Marina was born. So I was sniffing around the countryside, looking for locations. I spent a lot of time in San Severo, which is where the crime will occur. In between, we just had the best time. We had picnics in the Gargano Promontory, and we drove to Vieste and sat by the Adriatic. I got out of the car on the promontory and suddenly I was surrounded by all these goats, which was quite a surprise for a kid from Hoboken. I mean, there was a real shepherd, or a goatherd, I guess. And bulls in the fields. I tried to feed them olives and cheese, but those big bulls are nasty bastards. I jumped back into the car so fast I surprised myself. You know how it is when you live in the city. You think, “Some bull chases me and I’ll kick his ass.” No sir. Believe me.
When my daughter was young, she and I used to take a week’s vacation together at the end of the summer while my wife was getting ready for the school year – she used to run the Public Affairs department at Sarah Lawrence College. So my daughter and I would go to Disney World and out to Universal Studios in L.A. We did the Hollywood thing, and I took to meet some people at DreamWorks. I introduced her to Wolfgang Puck, which was fantastic, and some of the cast of “The Sopranos.” One year, we just did up New York City – went to museums and plays, and out to Shea Stadium. I loved being with her like that, and it helped us grow closer. We’re alike in many ways, so there are times when my daughter is so mad at me that she could kill me. But because of those vacations, she’d probably regret it after awhile. Maybe.

What is the one thing always in your refrigerator?

Well, people who’ve read the Terry Orr series have figured out that I love to cook, so my refrigerator is usually pretty well stocked. But I’m never without Edmond Fallot Dijon mustard. It’s superb, really excellent for sauces. I spent a lot of time in France in the past dozen years or so, and I always used to smuggle home a couple of little jars. But now Williams-Sonoma sells it, which is great. It’s really delicious.