(April 24) After my return from Mauritania, I invited Ruben Bix for a drink at a little bar I know, one long frequented by some of San Francisco’s most distinguished literati. Mr Bix was running late on this day and I admit I was a bit jet-lagged. Though I was called away before our conversation was quite complete, what I managed to capture on my tape recorder should prove illuminative to the general reader of Mr Bix’s work. This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and brevity.
It’s good to see you again, Bix. This is the actual bar where Jack Kerouac used to drink with Neal Cassady.
Did you see my latest chapter?
I read it during my layover in Madrid, but did you hear what I—?
What did you think?
Check out that booth over there, Bix. The one next to the photo of Dave Eggers.
I thought that was Springsteen.
That’s the booth where Alan Ginsberg wrote Howl.
Shouldn’t have been too difficult.
What do you mean?
Waaaa-waa-wooooo! Roooo-wa-woooo!
That’s stupid, Bix.
Sorry. But I’m asking you, what did you think of my latest chapter?!
The one where he goes up the stairs?
Right. Hardly anybody commented or even liked it, so I’m really really wondering.
Your hero in The Nature Preserve went up stairs in a similar slum hotel I recall.
I know. I’m glad you noticed. There are several overlaps between the two novels.
Both of your protagonists seem fairly inhibited.
Yes. And I’ve got another book in the hopper with another diffident male main character. It’s sort of becoming my specialty… accidentally.
Accidentally?
It’s accidental in the sense that, back when I abandoned Real Voices and decided to focus on The Nature Preserve, I used several elements from the earlier book. Going up and down stairs and elevators was one of them. Having the hero meet a sort of “girl of his dreams” and immediately feel so intimidated he can’t properly express himself is another one. For me, that’s a great place to get a story going.
So what’s the deal with stairs and elevators?
Oh. The most weighty conversations and profound thoughts happen when you’re hemmed in, don’t you think? Or, when you’re on the threshold. It’s as obvious in life as it is in art.
I’ll take your word for it. Are there any other overlaps?
There are a few more you’ll notice as the book goes on. It doesn’t bother me really. The two books are completely different.
Another similarity I’m noticing is the female characters get all the best lines!
Bingo.
What makes the stories so different then?
They’re different in all the essential ways! The main idea I’m playing with is different. The milieu and the scale are different. The tone, the plot, the point of view. In spite of both protagonists being shy, all the main aspects are different. Neville is older than Swan. San Francisco is a real place. What are you drinking?
The Gorschman.
What’s that?
It’s named after that great San Francisco poet, Josh Gorschman. It’s got Beluga Vodka and espresso in it.
Yech!
It’s not so bad. It’s really quite tasty!
I was reacting to the guy, not the drink.
What do you mean?
I thought Josh Gorschman was kind of ridiculous.
I didn’t know you knew Gorschman.
I got pulled into his orbit years ago but I didn’t stick around. He used to read pronouncements aloud from the Central Committee of the Communist Party like they were bible verses. I mean, I’d look around the room and everyone acted like he was a messenger of the lord. It turned me off. I did keep one book he did in the sixties about Artaud though. It’s a great book but I think knowing him ruined it for me.
But his cocktail’s really good!
What other drinks do they have here? And, where’s the damn bartender?
They’ve got The Amy Tan, The Jack Micheline, The Cintra Wilson, The Dashiell Hammett, The Tommy Orange features some orange bitters of course—
With so many barkeeps you’d think I could get a drink.
I’m talking about cocktails.
I was joking, but I think Tommy Orange is an Oakland guy. How do you get a drink in this place? Do they have any Bourbon?
They only do cocktails. You’ll need to pick an author whose name is associated with bourbon I suppose.
Hammett maybe? Did Nick and Nora drink Bourbon?
Probably Scotch. Perhaps Jack London.
Yeah, definitely. I guess you know Cintra Wilson’s on Substack.
I remember when she was just a young hipster writing for the Examiner.
So you haven’t told me what you think about The Audition!
The “trappings of counterfeit manliness” thing confused me.
Ha! See! Funny!
What’s so funny?
Come on! He gets past his anxieties to meet with this uber-attractive woman who’s expressed all this personal interest in him. He’s hoping she likes him for himself even though he’s feeling less-than confident. He finally arrives at the blood-red room and then their encounter takes this delicious turn! I was laughing the whole time I was writing it.
Well, I suppose. It seemed a little harsh.
Life is harsh, Boccaccio! And Neville, like most of us, has his insecurities. Still he almost goes all the way. He “shakes his head yes.” Remember? I thought that was a great line! Alana’s turning out to be enticingly mysterious. Don’t you wonder who she is, really?
Poor Neville…
You only say that because you’re a sweet innocent old man.
I’m not a sweet innocent old man as you put it! I remind you, I’ve just returned from the Sahara!
Oh, that’s right. I forgot. Mauritania. How did the Phil Roth thing go?
He wasn’t quite the sort of person I’d expected.
He sounds like quite the adventurer.
He lives with all the rest of the foreigners in a gated compound.
Then how’d he become such an expert on the Berbers?
He knows some boys who he pays to go out and mingle with the indigenous people and take videos with their phones. Then he extracts his material.
That’s hilarious!
Yes. I was a bit surprised by it.
So he’s never actually spent time with the subjects of his books?
He told me when he first came to Mauritania he went “out there” once.
I’m surprised he was so forthcoming with you, Boccaccio.
It turns out he likes to drink. And he seemed a little lonely.
Ha! You’re a sly one! I should keep an eye on you.
I’m a professional, Mr Bix.
So now you’re going to expose Phil Roth to the world!
I can’t. I was hired by his publisher.
You mean you aren’t going to expose his bullshit?
Phil Roth’s made himself into a multi million dollar machine, Bix. I think I told you about the TV series?
I’m kind of blown away by what you’re saying. Your journalism is really just promotional tripe!
Yes. Of course.
What do you intend to write about him then?
You know, stuff that’ll be quotable for the next book jacket. Something like: “The people, the poverty, the passion. And the sands!” When I got back to Pacific Heights, I still had sand in my luggage. It was even in my underwear. Can you believe it? The stuff gets through the tiniest cracks—
This is really making me need a drink now. Where’s the goddamned barman?
She’s a lady actually.
Hello! Hellooo! Is anybody back there?!
Stop yelling, Bix. This is my neighborhood bar.
But I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes!
I actually have the beginnings of a draft for the Phil Roth thing—
I could use a draft.
I wrote some lines I want to weave into the piece. Tell me if you like any of these. Ahem: “His voice is intimate, musical, pungent at times, and deeply observant.”
Pungent? You mean like stinky? Bartender!
How about: “He addresses the multifaceted nature of a marginalized people—”
What about a marginalized customer?
Here’s a good one: “The affecting story of a sensitive Berber youth growing up in a harsh traditional family and discovering, at last, their own truth—”
Their?
The last line is going to be: “Phil Roth’s marvelous prose is modern, courageous and surprising. He transcends cultural barriers in order to enchant readers around the globe!”
Hello! Is there anyone back there who can get me a beer? I’m an author and I need some help! Hello! I’m actually a San Francisco author! I swear I am! Anyone?
Calm down!
If I sit on the bar and take off my shoes, I might just be able to grab one of those bottles.
No, Bix! If you try a stunt like that, I’m simply going to leave!
Simply go ahead then! I’ll pay for your drink if she ever comes. A person has to do what a person has to do. I’m going to stand up on this stool, step onto the bar, take off my shoes and grab a bottle off the wall with my toes, Boccaccio! It’s really not that different from self-publishing.
I don't really care about Alana. Myrna, however, I'm very interested in.