Part of TDR's feature on Toronto Books: Spring 2008

Toronto writer Pasha Malla is all set to release his debut book and fiction collection The Withdrawal Method (Anansi, 2008) and TDR had a chance to pick his growing brain.

According to the author, The Withdrawal Method was typed on over 25 different computers in 12 different cities. 

“Once,” joked Malla, “I tried to use a pen and paper, but I'd forgotten how and ended up drawing an endless collage of just boobs
and dinks, boobs and dinks.”

Malla’s debut poetry collection is coming out with Snare Books in Montreal. All Our Grandfathers Are Ghosts will be published in fall 2008. 

“I like to have a couple things on the go at the same time, so it was the other thing I wrote while I was working on The Withdrawal Method. It's sort of a reaction to and against that book, in a way, and also there are secret incantations hidden in the text -- I think.”

(Interview by Nathaniel G. Moore - March 2008)

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TDR: When did you start writing these stories?

PM: About five years ago. Some of the stories took all five years to finish, others I whipped off the night before the book was due, totally cooked out of my skull on drugs you've probably never heard of. One of these drugs made me hallucinate that I'd grown angel's wings, which I then ate, Buffalo-style.

TDR: How does contemporary "cultural" events, tech gadgets or celebrity reference play into your work?

PM: I really struggled with a couple of stories where characters talk on cell phones or check their email. There's something about that sort of thing in fiction that makes me cringe, which is usually because it's so self-consciously "modern." But ultimately I had to resign myself to the fact that the stories were about people who would do these sorts of things, and avoiding it would be disingenuous. I've been guilty, also, of a tendency to use contemporary references (to technology or celebrities, whatever) in either a glib, ironic way, or to avoid them altogether to create a precious, anachronistic version of the world. So, anyway, they're in there -- but hopefully in the way they exist in my own life: I check my email and use a cellphone. Hopefully there's nothing spectacular or obnoxious about either of those things.

TDR: Would you agree that pop culture is culture?

PM: Sure, although a lack of critical engagement with any sort of culture, pop or not, can be really dangerous. Seriously, I know a dude who was shot in his sleep because he failed to recognize the flagrant misogyny of "Flava of Love"! But, that said, I think it's OK to enjoy stuff that might be considered pop without intellectualizing it -- or
justifying liking it as ironic. I really dig early '90s New Jack Swing, no joke. Do you want to fight me now? Let's fight.

TDR: You have described yourself as half-white in recent articles, how does race identity play in your work?

PM: It doesn't, at least explicitly. Race wasn't a theme I was concerned with when I was working on those stories, although it might be something I try to write more about in the future. Maybe a graphic novel where the students in an ad for [Whatever] University come to life as a team of multicultural superhero racism fighters – Team Toronto! Obviously they'd fail and racism would rule the world forever and ever.

TDR: What was your experience like coming through Concordia's creative writing program?

PM: Doing my M.A. was a good chance to develop a routine and regular writing habits, as well as meet people who were reading better books than me, who then let me borrow their books. So the program was useful for that sort of thing. As for going there to "hone my craft" or whatever, I don't think you can teach writing to anyone, except maybe a monkey. Even then most of what monkeys write is total bullshit --not that what I've written is much better, but at least it's fucking spell-checked.