2000

An Interview with Lemony Snicket

     Recently, while perving around the children's book section of my local mega bookstore/caf� conglomerate (And I do recommend this for an occasional cheap thrill-make sure you bejewel every visible piercing you accumulated in the 90s, and attire yourself in your clunkiest tanker boots while purposefully revealing your every tattoo. An ancient Chemlab "Fuck Art! Let's Kill!" t-shirt will do the trick nicely, too.), mothers clutched their sweet-smelling, lithe offspring closer while I perused the aisles nearby. Oblivious to the conspicuous deployment of store security, I turned over a quite elegantly bound, beautifully illustrated tome that reads:

     "Dear Reader, I'm sorry to say that the book you are holding in your hands is extremely unpleasant. It tells an unhappy tale about three very unlucky children. Even though they are charming and clever, the Baudelaire siblings lead lives filled with misery and woe... It is my sad duty to write down these unpleasant tales, but there is nothing stopping you from putting this book down at once and reading something happy, if you prefer that sort of thing. With all due respect, Lemony Snicket."

     Still mourning the untimely passing of our beloved Edward Gorey, and coming to the realization that I will never be able to afford the Mark Twain translation of Struwwelpeter, and further kicking myself for missing the British stage adaptation, Shockheaded Peter, I went home with the book hoping to fill a large, cantankerous void.

     This was Book the First in "A Series of Unfortunate Events," and by page 8 the protagonist children, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire, lose their parents in a terrible fire. I was hooked. And better still, the writing has a certain perverse, mature erudition, and dark-cold-black sense of humor. So began my current obsession.

     There are now five volumes in the series, and in each these pitiable children find themselves in some sort of Dickensian peril, such toiling in a lumber mill only to be paid in coupons, or attending a cruel boarding school where they must sleep on bales of hay in a fungus-encrusted, crab-ridden, tin shack. Meanwhile, the orphans' arch villain uncle, Count Olaf, incessantly plots to steal their sizeable fortune before Violet, the eldest, comes of age to inherit it. I am not making this up.

     The series is presented as the result of years of research by the mysterious and wonderfully named author, Lemony Snicket, who claims to be merely chronicling the lives of the Baudelaire orphans as cautionary tales. Mr. Snicket, who one would think lives in a Victorian mansion teetering on a high hill (insert a crash of thunder and flicker of lightning here), instead provides tantalizing, and ever-changing bio information in every volume. He is awaiting trial, pining for lost love, socializing with socialists, and on the run, most notably. Each book contains a dedication to the same dead spectre: Beatrice (a love also common to Dante and Borges, coincidentally).

Mr. Snicket holds none of his seemingly superior education back when penning these tales. He is prone to defining academic vocabulary contextually, and carefully explaining literary devices and historical metaphors. Keep in mind that these are real books intended for children and actually selling quite well. I could take it no longer. I had to contact Lemony Snicket. The results are published here.

DAMn!: Do you use a MAC or PC platform computer?
Lemony Snicket: I use a Mac which was built in approximately 1853.

D!: Have you ever been involved in the gothic/industrial subculture? Even peripherally?
LS: A deep love of the histrionics of Robert Smith shadowed my adolescence, if that counts.

D!: Yes, I'd say that counts. It counts doubly if photos exist of you with giant 80s hair and smudgy lipstick.
LS: If any such photos exist, I will take this opportunity to state in public that Mr. Snicket will pay top dollar for the negatives and any known copies. Repeat, top dollar. Otherwise I can only offer a deep appreciation of the novels of Wilkie Collins, ownership of the music of Autchre, a one-time meeting with Anne Rice and marriage to a woman with a closetful of black clothes as evidence of subculturedom.

D!: Marriage? Didn't your book flap bio paint you as a forlorn bachelor? Do you mean marriage to Beatrice?
LS: I am, indeed, a full-time forlorn bachelor.

D!: Does an audience here surprise you?
LS: It delights me.

D!: How did you first hear of the Baudelaire children?
LS: Accidentally.

D!: Everyone knows that the entertainers of children are a bad lot: the super-pervy Lewis Carroll and Shel Silverstein; the nasty Roald Dahl; et al. Given your own criminal history, fondness for brandy, and curious associations, I am suspicious of the reliability of your narration. What exactly is your interest in orphans?
LS: My interest in orphans is purely aesthetic, although as the audience grows for the novels published by, shall we say, a close associate of mine named Daniel Handler--THE BASIC EIGHT, in which high school students take absinthe and kill one another, and WATCH YOUR MOUTH, in which an oversexed family constructs a monster in the basement--I suspect that this question will pop up more and more often.

D!: Oh yes! I am familiar with the sanguine, criminal oriented writings of Mr. Handler and it does not astonish me that he would fraternize with you, a person whom the authorities are still seeking, last I knew. Is there anything you can disclose about your criminal case file?
LS: As my case file is pure lies, I will disclose nothing. My loyal associates--Mr. Handler included--have stood by me, occasionally too closely, despite such slanderous accusations.

D!: Have you and Count Olaf ever occupied the same room at the same time?
LS: Only once that I know of, but undoubtedly he's passed in unnoticed disguise more times than I care to think about, particularly when I'm alone.

D!: Not many books intended for children involve devourment by leeches, or May-December marriages to legal guardians. Do you get much editorial hassle regarding basic plot points?
LS: Actually, horrific violence and inappropriate affection are more or less the cornerstones of children's literature--a fact known by anyone who has read the story of a young blonde girl sleeping in a bear's bed only to be, er, eaten. Luckily for me, my editor has never hassled me on those points.

D!: Did you have to query and/or pitch these stories? What was that like?
LS: I blurted out the idea for these books to an editor I knew, after many sidecars in a very dark bar. The good news was that she liked the idea, but the bad news was that we then had to do it officially, with a proper proposal written while sober in a well-lit room. In such circumstances, my literary agent found the idea horrifying, and there were some murmurs at the publishing house, but we ended up winning.

D!: Did you get a say in the gorgeous illustration, paper, or binding of your books?
LS: Publishing houses ask authors about the covers of their books in the same way you might ask a child if she wants to take out the garbage; it's only technically a question. In my case this is a good thing, as my clumsy eye could never have concocted as gorgeous a design as Mr. Helquist ['s illustration] and Ms. Donalty's [cover design] work.

D!: How do you feel about the Harry Potter books? Or what about the New York Times inventing a "Children's Bestseller List" in response to those books-just so writers for grown-ups have increased odds at landing a coveted slot?
LS: I have only read the first Harry Potter book, which I thought was quite good although I find the sheer volume of the books' success to be a bit inexplicable, an opinion shared, I hasten to add, by [their author,] Ms. Rowling. Naturally, my opinion of the Harry Potter phenom is bound to be tainted by self-interest. Ditto my opinion as to the New York Times children's bestseller list. I'm on it, so I can't help but like it.

D!: Do you use pretentious vocabulary, alliteration, frequent asides, and literary references in daily life? Do your associates mind?
LS: If there is a social gathering at which the word "tryst" must be explained, mentions of Haruki Murakami banned or wordplay frowned upon, you may tear up my invitation. My close associates agree with me that life is too short to attend such things.

D!: I have read about Nickelodeon acquiring the rights for a feature film. Have they acquired the rights to the first book, the series, or the characters? Do you know if there has been a decision on live-action or animation? Are you to be involved in any way?
LS: The plan is for a live-action film, based on the first book, with me writing the script. I am pushing for them to hire my friend Stephin Merritt, of the Magnetic Fields and (perhaps more interestingly for you) the Gothic Archies, to write some songs for it.

D!: If my research is correct, there are to be a total of 13 books in "A Series of Unfortunate Events." May I presume that your own research of the Baudelaire children has finally reached an end, ominous or otherwise?
LS: Thirteen volumes is correct, although I regret to say that it is not my research that has reached an ominous end.

Afterward: As of this writing The Bad Beginning and The Austere Academy are both on the New York Times Children's Bestseller List.

A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS
The Bad Beginning: Book the First
The Reptile Room: Book the Second
The Wide Window: Book the Third
The Miserable Mill: Book the Fourth
The Austere Academy: Book the Fifth

Coming soon
The Ersatz Elevator: Book the Sixth

Published by HarperCollins
www.harperchildrens.com

www.lemonysnicket.com