Sex, Politics, Religion, and Writing: Uncensored Interviews with the artists and authors of MLR Press
An Intriguing Interview with the Charming Gary Martine
S: Gary, your book Kingsley and I has an interesting history. Tell us how you came to write it? When is it due to be published?
Gary: Kingsley and I is my first venture into the erotic-romance genre. It's fictitious, but draws on a "first love" experience from a period in my own life. Rooted in innocent curiosity, later exploding with passion, guided by a kind and gentle partner, it proved to be the beginning of a lifelong voyage of self-discovery that continues to transform my life.
S: That sounds like a first love to treasure. San Francisco is the setting for the book. What does San Francisco mean to you? Can you tell us how you see San Francisco's essential nature or character?
Gary: I'm not a bumper sticker kind of guy, but if I were, mine would read "San Francisco - Honolulu - Glossa." But wherever in the world I am privileged to travel, I always take San Francisco with me - it's my breath, my very life. Somewhere in between its rich textures, tastes, smells, sights and sounds, it inevitably awakens within visitor and resident alike an unforgettable, hedonistic rapture, sated only by returning. An alternate world, a sort of Aquarian Camelot, seems to swirl about and suffuses this city like its famous fog. It's my roots, my lover, my Mecca.
S: I'm ready to start driving! Gary, where or what is Glossa?
Gary: Glossa is a small Greek village on the island of Skopelos in the Northern Sporades. I had a writer's privilege of living on the island of Skopelos while working on the background for a short story. I remember waking at five o'clock in the morning to the sound of hundreds of tinkling bells, as the village goatherd drove the village goats up into the scraggy hills to feed. Breakfast was goat yogurt and wild Skopelos honey. I liked to hike after breakfast to a large, barren rock surrounded on three sides by the azure Aegean Sea where I would write. It seemed as if the Greek gods would descend briefly from Olympus, to sit with and encourage me. Evenings I would walk back to the local taverna. It was difficult to be vegatarian, but I utterly loved sipping oozo and dancing (I got pretty good at it). Dancing with the Greek fishermen into the wee hours of the morning is something I will never forget.
S: That sounds like heaven for a writer. One of your themes is the transformative nature of love. Can you talk about that?
Gary: It often seems like a violent world out there - just read the news or watch the latest special effects movie - and violence is undebatably one of the most effective and efficient of life's teachers. Yet I've always believed that in the midst of every struggle for survival of the fittest, what actually advances us is our uniquely human ability to transform violence into the very élan vitale that powers love. If violence is a razor-like knife unfeelingly pruning one branch after another, then love is the leaves and flowers that irresistibly blossom from the raw, bleeding surfaces. Love like this has the power to fundamentally alter one's view-point and with it, life itself.
S: Do you see love or sex as being the stronger or more elemental human condition? Or are they the same?
Gary: If you believe in the perfection of ideals, then love surely would have to represent the highest expression of affection between humans. I don't see love this way. To me, love is a voyage of personal discovery, a constantly growing and evolving tapestry with scarlet threads of passionate sex and golden threads of companionship woven throughout.
S: I agree with you. I think love evolves, and the perfection of ideals isn't a very human quality. Do you plan to continue the story of Kingsley?
Gary: Kingsley and I is a story of love that, by its very nature, will continue to unfold. I couldn't leave them standing there, each with one foot on the first step of their respective life journeys, now could I? In the almost completed sequel, Kingsley and I continue to explore the course and limits of human as well as man-man relationships.
S: Of course you couldn't leave them! What is the sequel to be called? Do you have a publication date yet?
Gary: No one has the pastiche to call it Kingsley and I II, so the title is still evolving even as we speak. The publication date isn't set yet, but I'm working towards a 2008 release.
S: Tell us about your first novel, the one you wrote when you were a teenager.
Gary: My first novel was called "The Hyperbolic Curve." It was a hundred and twenty page science fiction work I decided deserved to be published in a first-rate magazine like the New Yorker. I papered my bedroom wall with rejection slips, but none were as personally heartbreaking as the albeit kindly rejection slip I eventually received from the New Yorker. Some would be deterred by such an experience. Me, I never stopped writing after that.
S: Let's get to know you as a person. Do you have any pets? What's your favorite food? Best movie you've seen this year? Who's your favorite fiction writer? What's the last non-fiction book you read? Where do you do your best thinking?
Gary: No pets, unless you count my three-foot long, lime-green, stuffed gecko who constantly looks over my shoulder, religiously checking my grammar and structure as I write. As for food, I'm pretty much vegetarian mostly out of respect for animals. My favorite food is Buddhist sukiyaki. Sukiyaki, of course, means beef. Some friends one day left out the beef and substituted mushrooms, a gesture for which I have been forever grateful. I like cooking, and make a mean pierogi, a sort of boiled dumpling stuffed with cherries, apricots, peaches or plums. It's a 100 year old family recipe passed down paternally from the "Old World."
The movie adaption of Virginia Wolfe's book, Orlando, is one of my all-time favorites. Wolfe says it all. While it's not exactly non-fiction, The Persian Boy by Mary Renault is one of my latest historical reads and destined to become one of my favored dozen. I do my best thinking alone, sitting in front of my white MacBook, my trusty stuffed gecko at my side, the fool on the hill, watching the sun going down, while the eyes in my head see the world spinning round.
S: Gary, would you like to share that recipe? I love a good pierogi.
Gary: Ah, Sarah, my forebearers will probably roll over in their graves for this, but here it is, translated loosely from the multi-generational Polish-Russian recipe: Please assemble four (4) kubek (a medium-sized American coffee cup) of well-ground, summer wheat flour; one (1) kubek of body-temperature water; two (2) fresh eggs, well-beaten; two (2) large wooden spoonfulls (I use rounded tablespoons) of freshly churned butter (good luck there); a pinch of salt; and just enough fresh cow's milk to make a soft dough. Using your hands, mix everything well, kneed, and form into a ball. Wrap in wax paper and let cool on ice (I use the frig) for at least 30 minutes. Roll out on a smooth, floured board and cut into circles using a (this part is unintelligible - I use a 4-inch diameter, inverted teacup with a floured rim). Pit and cut ripe fruit into 1/2 inch slices, placing one slice just off-center on each circle. Add some sugar if the fruit is not fully ripe (my father's addition), and fold into half-circles, pushing out as much air as possible and sealing the edges (I use a fork to create a fluted pattern). Let pierogis sit on floured wax paper until all are made. Bring a large pot of water to boil, and, keeping it boiling, gently ease each pierogi into the water. They will sink. When they rise, boil for another 3 to 5 minutes, with the pot top slightly off. Remove and ease into a second pot of iced water. Let stand in iced water for a few minutes, then transfer onto waxed paper. When finished, refrigerate them in layers (a layer of pierogi, a layer of wet paper towel, a layer of wax paper). To serve, fry one to three per person in melted butter browning both sides. Serve with a spoonful of this butter and a spoonful of soured cream. Oh, by the way, include at least a half a day to do all this! My father sometimes used to fill them with a spoonful of cottage cheese (the liquid squeezed out) mixed with salt, nutmeg, sugar and a bit of egg rolled into small oblong balls. Yummm! When finish, you have the added pleasure of knowing that you have just been inducted into the Gary Martine Mutual Pierogi Fan Club!