Interview with Henry Swann Author Charles Salzberg

Man at desk, writing on a typewriter by the light of a desk lamp, with a rotary telephone in the foreground

Interviewed by Greg Ziegler

You’ve published five Henry Swann books now; how do you come up with the topics for your novels?

One thing that sets the Swann novels apart from most crime novels is that they’re not traditional whodunits. I decided to leave murder to the professionals. This gives me the opportunity to write about pretty much anything I want to. So, I choose subjects I want to learn more about or have a special interest in. For instance, in Swann Dives In, he’s drawn into the world of rare books. In Swann’s Lake of Despair, it’s the world of collectible photography, which came about because a writing student of mine, Julia Scully, who passed away last year at the age of 94, told me about Eddie Feingersh, a very talented daredevil photojournalist she dated as a young woman. Feingersh, who died relatively young, probably as the result of alcoholism, on assignment for Redbook Magazine, once followed around Marilyn Monroe when she moved to New York to study at the Actor’s Studio. He was a perfect character for noir, so I asked Julia if I could use the story and her name in the novel. Thankfully, she said yes. So, Swann (and I), took a deep dive into the photography world, in search of lost (and valuable) negatives of his work. In other books, Swann immerses himself in Hollywood movies, fine art, and psychic phenomena.

The title character Henry Swann has some interesting personality traits. What aspects of the character do you enjoy writing about most?

Swann changed over the years, partially because the first in the series, Swann’s Last Song, took over twenty-five years before it was published, which meant by the time I wrote the second Swann, I’d grown as a writer and my interests broadened. In the original version, Swann is hired to find the killer of a wealthy and very mysterious husband at the behest of his beautiful, much younger widow. Swann [will] do pretty much anything for a buck—I loved writing about that trait; [he] follows all the clues, which take him across the country, then the world. In the end, it turns out the murder was totally random, having nothing to do with any of the trails Swann follows. Agents and editors liked the book but said they couldn’t publish it because fans would rise up in arms when Swann, after following all the clues, doesn’t solve the crime. Twenty-five years later, I came across the manuscript sitting in a desk drawer, read it, and thought, “Hey, maybe the industry has changed after all these years.” So, I gave it to an editor I’d worked with. He loved it but said he couldn’t publish it with this ending. So, after all that time, I learned how to sell out. I changed the ending, they published it, and it was nominated for a Shamus Award (I didn’t even know what it was). I was never going to write another Swann, but I got pissed off when I lost and said “I’m going to keep writing them till I win something.” After the second one, I had so much fun writing about crime, I kept writing in the genre.

How much does living in NYC influence your Henry Swann novels?

It has an enormous influence, not only in the Swann books but in everything I write. I was born and raised in New York and, like it or not, the city is a huge part of my DNA. It’s not so much geographical as it is in having a New York attitude and energy. Swann has many of the personality traits I associate with New Yorkers: he’s sarcastic, skeptical, money-grubbing, and politically incorrect. In the beginning, I was often asked if Swann was me. Of course, many aspects of Swann can’t help but be part of me, but the answer I always give is, “Swann is the kind of man I’d like to be—minus the money-grubbing, of course” (if that were true, I certainly wouldn’t be trying to make a living as a writer).

This is why in all the Swann novels I make it a point to get him out of New York, [to] places like Alabama, New Jersey, and Hollywood, for instance. Of course, no matter where he goes, he still carries with him this New York attitude.

Is the character of Goldblatt based on a real lawyer or person?

In writing the second Swann, Swann Dives In, I was stuck for the name of a character and so, as a place-holder, I used the name of one of my good friends, Mark Goldblatt. Somehow, the name Goldblatt stuck. It just sounded right and he became the perfect Falstaffian foil for Swann

But the fictional Goldblatt is very different from the real Goldblatt, who is not a lawyer, not overweight, not slovenly, and not at all mysterious. I had no intention of using him in the rest of the Swanns, but he was such a fun character to write, and the chemistry between him and Swann was so good, I couldn’t keep him out. Surprisingly, I think readers came to like him more than they did Swann. Funny thing is, it got so popular with friends, I started naming a lot of characters after people I knew—like his closest friend, rare book dealer Ross Klavan, a real person who happens to be one of my closest friends.

Detective novels rely on dialogue to move the plot forward; how do you ensure that your dialogue rings true?

When I’m writing, I hear voices in my head—fortunately, they don’t speak to me when I’m not writing and they’re not the kind of voices that instruct me to go out and murder anyone. I think the reason the dialogue works is that I was a shy kid, which made me a good listener which, in turn, has a lot to do with being able to write dialogue that “rings true.” Over the years, I’ve had many students who claim they’re horrible at writing dialogue. This always surprises me, because writing dialogue comes naturally to me. For instance, one of the common mistakes I see from new writers is not using contractions in dialogue. “I do not want to see you tomorrow,” instead of “I don’t want to see you tomorrow,” which is how people actually speak. In other words, for some reason beginning writers distinguish between written language and spoken language. To combat this, I give an assignment: Without taking notes, overhear a conversation. When you get home, try recreating that conversation. It’s not an exercise in memory. I don’t want you to reconstruct the conversation word-for-word. Rather, it’s about understanding what’s being said and why. The assignment forces you to actually listen to the words and the context in which those words are spoken. I also suggest they read the conversation aloud. I guarantee they’ll pick up clunkers and stilted conversation. If you cringe, then you’re doing something wrong.

What is your writing routine when writing a Henry Swann novel?

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but the truth is I have absolutely no routine. I write when the spirit moves me. And sometimes it takes days or weeks before it does. Friends are always wondering how this is possible, since I’ve written close to forty fiction and nonfiction books. The answer is simple: I’m a very fast typist, around 90 words a minute, and when I do sit myself down in front of the computer, I’m extremely focused.

I’ve read that you don’t work from an outline, does that present any special issues or concerns for you in crafting a detective story?

Just the opposite. When I sit down to write, I have no idea what’s going to happen in the chapter, the page, or even the next sentence. This can be a little scary, but it’s always worked for me, and I figure if I don’t know what’s happening next, maybe the reader won’t either. I’m not so sure that if I did work from an outline, if I did know what was coming and how a book ends, I’d bother writing it.

You were a journalist prior to becoming a novelist; what did you find was the biggest challenge in making that transition and are there any elements that you find particularly helpful in your fiction writing?

Before I was forced into magazine journalism to make a living, I thought of myself as a novelist, and so the challenge was to adapt to journalism, where you can’t make stuff up. I was a bit of a snob about it. I figured, “Writing nonfiction is easy.” You watch something happen, and then you write about it. Boy, was I wrong. But what made it easy for me to make that segue is that so many of the techniques used in fiction apply to nonfiction. I already knew how to write dialogue and create a scene. I knew how to tell a story. It’s different, but the same. But being a journalist turned out to be an incredible boon for writing fiction. For one thing, I learned how to write to a word count, which meant every word I wrote had to count.

Are there any particular authors or books that have been influential to you in creating your detective novels?

Yes, but you might be surprised at who they are. I certainly read the classic crime writers, like Chandler, Hammett, Stout, MacDonald, but the writers who were most influential were Vladimir Nabokov (I think most people don’t think of Lolita as a crime novel, but it is—Humbert Humbert lusts after a 12-year-old girl. He’s a pedophile who takes her across state lines for immoral and illegal purposes), Philip Roth and Saul Bellow. They’re the authors who taught me how to write. And so, I don’t approach crime novels any different from the way I approached the “literary” novels I was writing. Good writing is good writing, no matter what kind of book it is.

What are you currently working on (if you can share) and is there another Henry Swann story in the offing?

I’m working on another crime novel. It’s a stand-alone (interestingly enough, every one of my novels was written as a stand-alone). The working title is The Beginning of Everything, and it involves a character who has ESP but is so ashamed of it that only one person in the world knows it. That person, his best friend asks him to help find his missing college-age daughter, and it takes him into the world of DNA family searches, the Witness Protection Program, and paternity.

I stopped writing about Swann after five novels (and a few short stories). I figured it was a nice round number and the truth is, I figured I’d pretty much said everything I wanted to say through that character. I didn’t want him to become stale and, even worse, predictable. But I think about him all the time and so, who knows, one day, I might want to revisit him. But this you can take to the bank: it won’t be about investigating a crime in his old age home.

You’ve written other crime-related books, i.e., Devil in the Hole and Canary in the Coal Mine. What is it about mystery and crime that attracts you as a writer?

Crime is all about what people do when they’re under pressure. You either rise to the occasion or you fall. It shows us at our best and our worst. Sometimes, both at the same time. And even though not all of us commit crimes that can result in a stay in the Graybar Hotel, we’ve all committed crimes, or at least thought about it. I’m talking about small crimes, like jaywalking or taking office supplies home from your job. These are the kinds of crimes we can all identify with. Besides, how many different ways can you kill someone? And how many different motives can you have?

You were a visiting professor at the Newhouse School at Syracuse University; what words of advice (or encouragement) did you have for students hoping to make a career in journalism or the literary arts?

Sit yourself down and write! And, almost as important, read. The other advice I give is never say no. My whole writing career has been based on that credo. When I was teaching magazine journalism at Newhouse, I’d have students come to my office and tell me their intricate career plans. I’d tell them planning is fine, [but] that’s not the way it works in the real world. Unexpected things happen. Roadblocks you don’t think about are there. Opportunities you never imagined present themselves. But the bottom line is: no one becomes a writer by not writing. 

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*