Authors I want to chill with: Part 1
Call me the parasocial princess
I have this thing where when I finish a really great book, one that I’m upset to have ended because I just loved it so much, I need to google the author. I suspect it’s my subconscious way of trying to suck more out of the reading experience, to really drag it out, savoring every last drop.
Unsurprisingly, authors have always been impressive to me, especially those whose works have changed my mind and my life. While the American obsession with celebrity is nauseating and horrific and would require its own far longer post to unpack, something about authors feels more…human? Accessible? A generalization, to be sure. But the fact that they tend not to reach quite the heights of fame that pop singers and movie stars do, the fact that you can buy a $40 ticket to see them give a talk in a local library or see them for free at a bookstore, the fact that their compulsion to write and make art (tends to, I guess) surpass any want to be known makes them relatable and, to me, compelling.
I have found that the authors of the books that have meant the most to me are fascinating people whose lives I am at once envious of and captivated by. These are people I want to chill with, and of course, I am delusionally convinced that I would get along famously with them.
Obviously, the things authors are willing to share online and in interviews and articles do not capture the whole of their personhood, and as such, my perception of them is inherently flawed (same problem with Hollywood celebrity culture but larger scale), but I remain enthralled and inspired nonetheless (and teasing apart my personal interest in authors as a creator of unique, affecting works and the capitalistic reverence for those with success and recognition is beyond the scope of this essay, as the kids say).
For this installment, I’m going to talk about some of the authors who have moved me the most and why they’re so cool. This is me telling you that it’s worth it to Google the people who write what you read. It is almost always surprising in some unexpected way and facilitates a deeper connection with their work. Here are some of my favorite authors that I want to chill– though the list certainly does not end here. I imagine there will be more parts to this initial collection down the road, so stay tuned, probably? Anyway, let’s meet the authors:
Hanya Yanagihara
Coolest woman alive, as far as I’m concerned. She wrote my all-time favorite book, A Little Life, and her other two novels are equally formidable in their scope, subject matter, and command of language. I don’t know how to say this in a way that will capture the depth of meaning– she is an unbelievable writer.
A Little Life was one of the first books I read that drove me to google the author when I finished it. The book eviscerated me and wrung me out emotionally– I needed more. One of the first things I found and read was this Vulture piece on her inspirations for A Little Life. It blew my mind that what she pulled from to inform this devastating, beautiful novel included things like Prada’s fall/winter 2007 ready-to-wear show, photography installations spanning years, paintings, and a NYT cover from 1996. Is this how all creative people think? I’ve been thinking wrong all this time, apparently. This glimpse at her process changed the way I think about inspiration and influence– creatively, personally, and professionally. I saw how life can inform art can inform life in perpetuity. What a lovely way of seeing the world.
Hanya Yanagihara started her first novel at 21 and now writes her novels by night while working as an Editor-in-chief of T Magazine, the style arm of the NYT, by day. She started collecting art at 26, and her apartment relies on bookcases for walls. Catch her on Instagram jet-setting in an impossibly non-annoying way, mostly because she takes breathtakingly beautiful photos of food, art, interiors, and landscapes around the world. It’s my dream life but also somehow soothing– unlike anything else I’ve found on social media.
It’s also worth noting that she’s not without her detractors. A Little Life has had a great deal of pushback for its depictions of abuse, and in her job as an editor, she is known for being a demanding boss and has been called a bully by those who work for her. Not great. But something about all of this– the good and the bad, makes her endlessly fascinating to me. I admire her deeply, her work has changed my life, and the way she looks at the world has allowed me to look at the world differently, too.
Recommended reading: Hanya Yanagihara’s Audience of One
Bret Easton Ellis
Perhaps one of the most intense of my parasocial author relationships. I deeply, deeply love Bret Easton Ellis. I’ve read almost all of his work (except for White, which… I’ll get there eventually). He’s perhaps best known for writing American Psycho, which is the basis for the film of the same name, though his first novel, Less Than Zero, is what made him famous. It was published when he was 21 and still in college, which became a best seller and cemented him among the ranks of “The Literary Brat Pack.” He is still one of the most well-known writers to this day, enjoying unprecedented literary fame that has spanned over four decades.
Why do I love Ellis? It’s complicated. To the best of my recollection, I read American Psycho first, followed by Less Than Zero. The book American Psycho is far– and I mean far– more gruesome than the movie, though still hilarious in the way the movie is. It was so hard to read, but it stuck with me. Less Than Zero is what hooked me on Ellis, though. I have never read apathy written as well as Ellis does it. It gets under your skin and keeps you up at night. Less Than Zero is exceedingly uncomfortable to read and contains some of the most disturbing scenes I've ever encountered in literature. Not because they’re overly graphic, but because they’re specifically dark and devoid of empathy. Ellis sets the stuff of nightmares against the backdrop of sunny LA, and it gets to me every time.
Bret Easton Ellis is a polarizing figure known for his sparse prose, apathetic characters, and scenes of violence against women. Ellis is often called a misogynist, and trust me when I say this dude has Haters, with a capital H. Personally, I find it ludicrous to purport that writing a misogynistic character makes you a misogynist. This is fiction, let's please grow up. It’s reductive and trite to conflate an author with his work in such a blunt fashion that lacks critical thought.
And yet… part of what makes Ellis so interesting to me is how much of his work is autofiction, meaning it blends fiction and pieces of his own life; almost part memoir. Where is the line that separates Bret Easton Ellis, the author, and Bret, the character, as the main character is named Bret in several of his novels? Also, there’s a fun little detail where a lot of his books have crossover characters– like Patrick Bateman appearing as a tertiary character in Rules of Attraction.
I have much more to say about Ellis and his work– though I am going to save that for a focused post on his work. I’ll finish here by saying he is one of my favorite authors, I always love reading his work, though it haunts me. And that probably says more about me than it does about anything he writes.
Recommended watching: A favorite interview of mine with Bret Easton Ellis, Christian Bale, and the director of American Psycho the film, Mary Herron (2000).
Melissa Broder
Ugh, God, I love this woman, she’s so cool and smart and has gorgeous hair. Melissa Broder is a poet, essayist, and novelist who recently published her third novel, Death Valley, to great acclaim.
I was indoctrinated into the house of Broder when I read So Sad Today in 2017. Before it was an essay collection, it was a Twitter account run by Broder, though anonymously. The book knocked the wind out of me. So Sad Today is Broder’s collection of personal essays about anxiety, existence, death, sex, and self-esteem. I had never read anything that so perfectly encapsulated the crushing weight of anxiety; I was electrified and felt I could explain myself if I could just get everyone I knew to read this– then they’d get it.
Broder’s novels (which I have read all of) are at once spectacularly strange and completely believable. Her characters are disasters most of the time, and even if you haven't had the same experiences as them, they are relatable in their desperation, their insecurity, their need for love, and their attempts to just make it through the day. You know those characters, either from something you've seen in yourself or have seen in someone else. It's refreshing to read.
Like Ellis, Broder is candid about imbuing a lot of her life and experiences into her novels. Similar themes come up frequently, like having a partner with a chronic condition, eating disorders, obsession, and self-flagellation– all of which Broder discusses in essays and interviews. Also, she’s fucking funny. Humor is one of my favorite coping mechanisms, and I love to read Broder because she is so good at making dark shit funny in a way that feels true to life. She’s someone I could see myself being friends with (though certainly would embarrass myself by being overeager to impress).
Recommended reading: Have We Reached Peak Wellness? by Melissa Broder
Hanif Abdurraqib
This is another one where it’s going to be hard for me to keep it brief; I adore this man. Reading
makes you want to be a better person, and makes you feel like it’s within reach. Abdurraqib is a poet, music critic, culture writer, and essayist. His first essay collection, They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, is what made me fall in love with his work. In this collection, he uses music– specific songs, concerts he bore witness to, and recorded performances– to contextualize love, loss, grief, and cultural movements of the 2010s. It is breathtaking and unlike anything I’ve ever read.His writing makes me want to spend time with him, sure, but it’s also his Instagram, where he posts about basketball, music, and his dog, and always has sharp, interesting, and just plain funny takes. He has no formal writing training, which I almost refuse to believe, as he’s just such a good writer it’s stupid. He also– I know, I am showing my whole ass here with the parasocial relationship thing– seems to be a genuinely good person.
His voice in his essays, online presence, and in-person at reading events (I have been lucky enough to see him recently in my city) remains clear and consistent. He writes from a place that is personal and vulnerable, and he does not shy away from this. He’s the kind of person who sees the good in people and the world, despite being painfully aware of the pain and suffering that comes with life on earth. I could read his work endlessly without getting bored, and I would never run out of questions to ask him over a cup of coffee.
You should read all of his books, but also look for his contributions to the NYT and the New Yorker, mostly on culture on music, but always infused with emotion that is heartbreaking, human, and relatable.
Recommended reading: A World of Black Intimacy at the Card Table by Hanif Abdurraqib
Books of the moment:
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📖 Currently reading:
Hot Springs Drive by Lindsay Hunter
📚Recently finished:
Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino, 5/5 stars
Cheap Therapist Says You’re Insane by Parker Young, No Rating
👉🏼You should read: some of the articles I linked above, for real!!!
Totally agree Hanya is a fascinating boss ass bitch. I fell down a rabbit hole on her after I read The People in the Trees. I NEEDED to understand who this woman was after that one LOL.
I just recently picked up Less than Zero at a thrift shop--moving it up on my stack! xx