“What do you think about his walking away from his kid like that?”
“He’s not the only one who’s ever done that,” I said. A horn sounded, signaling the end of visiting hours.
“So what should I do?” he said.
“I say burn ‘em. Burn the whole lot of them. And pay her an extra twenty bucks a week. That should shut her up,” I said.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“You should probably be going.”
“I guess. You walking down?”
“No. I think I’ll stay up here for a while.”
We shook hands. I watched him pick his way down through the rocks and disappear into the dark pines. It was another couple of minutes before I spotted him again, a tiny dark figure scuttling across the parking lot. Someone stopped him for a moment (my guess was it was just another of those autograph hounds), but Mohle put his hands up, waving him off.
Mohle got into his car. The horn sounded a second time. I zipped up my jacket. It was getting cold, now that the sun was almost gone.
I watched Mohle’s car slip around a Trailways bus and pull slowly past the guard station. Mohle turned on his headlights and I could see them flickering through a row of trees as he sped north. I raised my hand but I’m pretty sure he never saw me.
Rex turned out to be quite the prophet. Our ex-students have been tearing up the pea patch. Six of the eight have already published books, which makes them the most successful class in the history of the Fiction Institute. Now when people ask me about the famous writers I have known, they’re as likely to be asking about the young ones as the old.
Dominique joined a convent in Nebraska, and after the account of her spiritual journey appeared in the Atlantic Monthly she was interviewed by Bill Moyers for PBS. Mel published a piece in the New Yorker about what it was like to be taught fiction writing by a fraud. I thought he took a few cheap shots, particularly when he described my “rodentlike furtiveness,” but the article created quite a furor and landed him a six-figure book contract. LaTasha’s novel won the PEN/Faulkner Award and one of Mercedes’s stories won a Pushcart. Bryn was picked up by Farrar, Straus just last month. Chester has joined the staff of McSweeney’s and his memoir of taking hallucinogenic drugs with Amazonian Indians was the subject of a National Geographic special.
Brett somehow managed to finagle the research for Rex’s half-written epic out of Ramona and came up with a hell of an advance to finish the book. The last I heard he was somewhere out in West Texas hunting buffalo with bow and arrow. The only one who hasn’t made his way into print is Nick, but in just the last year I’ve started to hear from him. He sends me his manuscripts, which I read and send back with comments. I’d like to do more, but I’m afraid at this point in my career, a blurb from me wouldn’t do him much good.
Writing all this may have been a terrible mistake. If I ever publish this, there could be two million Schoeninger fans howling for my head on a plate. All I need is some parole officer whose favorite book is The Sands of Vanuatu and I’m dead meat.
The problem is, if I don’t tell you about him, Rex will vanish, I swear to God. He’ll become just another one of those names chiseled into the sides of public buildings. So here he is. I have no illusions about being a great stylist—not like Fielding and Flaubert and Nabokov and whoever the fuck those other guys were—but if the book you hold in your hand has allowed him to draw a few more breaths, I’ll be a happy man.
Though, come to think of it, it would also be nice to make a few bucks with the damn manuscript. Maybe I could even sell it to the movies and end up playing myself. If it doesn’t work out, I’m warning you now: if you’re in a pizzeria in New York and some guy with a Golden Gopher tie, a Ronald Reagan haircut, and a lottery ticket wants a little favor, just put your hand over your wallet and walk away.
Acknowledgments
The list of writers who have helped me with this book is long. Rather than name names, let me say how crucial they have been to this novel seeing the light of day. I will forever remember their support, their thoughtful suggestions, and their invaluable readings of early drafts. Frankie Abandonato, the narrator of Famous Writers I Have Known, takes a jaundiced view of literary friendships, but I do not. They are one of the joys of my life.
I would also like to thank Star Lawrence, whose patience, wisdom, and generosity still seem miraculous to me. Ryan Harrington has been terrific and Melody Baxter’s fierce championing of the book came at the perfect time.
Thank you too to Emily Forland, who picked up the baton from Wendy with such grace; to Kathleen Orillion, who has an unparalleled ability to spot the problem; and to my son, Billy Magnuson, whose eagle eye saved me a dozen times.
Also by James Magnuson
The Hounds of Winter
Windfall
Ghost Dancing
Money Mountain
Open Season
The Rundown
Without Barbarians
More Praise for
Famous Writers
I Have Known
“This is a droll, understated, ultimately sweet-tempered but also keenly savvy send-up of the much-lamented (and misunderstood) creative writing industry in America. A copy could usefully be included in the welcome kit for all new MFA candidates.” —Richard Ford
“James Magnuson’s new novel is an anything-goes mash-up featuring, among other hilarious elements, a legendary fistfight between two titanic authors on The Dick Cavett Show, a prank call to Günter Grass, a novel called Eat Your Wheaties, and a whole flock of ‘circling buzzards,’ including one who has translated The Divine Comedy. It’s funny, it’s poignant, it’s scarily on-target when it comes to writing programs and dreams of literary immortality—and, best of all, it’s out of its mind.” —Steve Harrigan, author of Remember Ben Clayton
“Famous Writers I Have Known is the engaging story of an ingenious con man who enters the world of Creative Writing with a mixture of innocence, nerve, and talent. James Magnuson creates a character both cunning and warmhearted. He describes the Texan landscape with a loving and painterly eye, and he re-creates the world of writers and would-be writers with wit and knowledge and dark laughter.” —Colm Tóibín, author of Brooklyn
“James Magnuson’s mischievous comedy of novelists and con men—professional liars both—is as subtle as it is subversive, as clever as it is courageous, as witty as it is touching. Readers will love it—but writers beware!” —Jim Crace, author of Being Dead
“A gloriously farfetched tale, but alarmingly real to anyone who knows the weird world of MFA programs. Besides which, it’s a shitload of fun.” —Peter Carey, two-time winner of the Booker Prize
“Jim Magnuson has done something remarkable—written a page-turner about the life of a writer. In his insights into the particular Famous Writer considered here, Magnuson’s peerless eye has not missed a single telling detail. His comedy is huge but it’s also sly: just under the surface of this Portrait of the Almost-Artist as a Cranky Old Man lies a moving meditation on the quest for immortality that drives us all, the mad cry from Othello: ‘Reputation! Reputation! Reputation!’ ” —Anthony Giardina
“In the wildly intelligent, hugely funny, and superbly plotted Famous Writers I Have Known, James Magnuson examines literary fame and writers’ workshops through the sharp eyes of his hero, the irrepressible Frankie Abandonato. Readers everywhere are in for a wonderful treat.” —Margot Livesey, author of The Flight of Gemma Hardy
“Wildly entertaining and insightful, Magnuson’s book is an unsparing look into the fragile, orphaned hearts of writers and con men alike. Its pitch-perfect narrator, Frankie Abandonato, is a hilarious, lovable American anti-hero for the 21st century.” —Cristina Garcia, author of King of Cuba
“Following in the tradition of such academic satires as Moo, by Jane Smiley, and Changing Places, by David Lodge, the novel . . . takes particular delight in skewering teachers and students alike. . . . Mr. Magnuson spins his rambunctious tale with su
ch evident glee that the satire never comes off as bitter or cynical.” —Christopher Kelly, New York Times
“The book’s best jokes come at the expense of fiction students, but it’s not all inside-baseball japery. The unexpected rapport between Frankie and Rex . . . stands out amid the fun.” —The New Yorker
“Magnuson’s perspective is welcome and rare.” —Eugenia Williamson, Boston Globe
“[A] gleeful look at literary affectations.” —Adam Woog, Seattle Times
“Tantalizing. . . . Magnuson nimbly keeps the wheel spinning, neither condemning the whole enterprise of creative writing programs, literary awards and the ambition that drives them, nor fully embracing them. He seems content to simply observe, reflect and entertain.” —Edward Nawotka, Dallas Morning News
Copyright
Copyright © 2014 by James Magnuson
All rights reserved
First published as a Norton paperback 2015
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110
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Book design by Daniel Lagin
Production manager: Devon Zahn
The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:
Magnuson, James.
Famous writers I have known : a novel / James Magnuson. — First edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-393-24088-7
1. Authors—Fiction. 2. Impostors and imposture—Fiction. 3. Satire. I. Title.
PS3563.A352F36 2014
813'.54—dc23
2013036677
ISBN 978-0-393-24278-2 (e-book)
ISBN 978-0-393-35081-4 pbk.
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Famous Writers I Have Known Page 29