Tell us a little about where your ideas for your characters and their stories come from.
The book started with geography – a man born in one country, who moves to another country, then is forced into exile from the place he calls home. That idea then led me to history as I discovered Henry – grumpy octogenarian and idealistic younger man, activist and exile, father and grandfather. He shares traits with me, bits of his biography with one of my grandfathers, shares a profession with my father and, like me, makes his home in New York City.
Authors steal. This one anyway. We take bits and pieces of people’s lives, things we observe, characteristics, habits, the way someone walks, or talks, this person’s profession, that one’s medical history, whatever we need. So there are a lot of details that I borrowed from people simply because they were there at the time, available when I was writing a certain section.
I grew up hearing stories about the struggle against apartheid, from my parents and others who were around at the time, then read about it. Before I wrote this novel I read some wonderful books about the years I write about, including books by Hilda Bernstein and Helen Joseph.
In A Quiet Kind of Courage Henry Wegland is a former ANC activist now living in New York City. You are a South African who spends his time between New York and London – is the story autobiographical in any way?
It’s not really autobiographical. Henry’s activist days happened before I was born and his actions don’t really mirror any in my life. That said, we’re both exiles, both born in South Africa, and we both moved to New York. We both like Bach and Bob Dylan; we both dislike stretch limos and tofu. We both know what it feels like to leave our home, to live as displaced South Africans, or not-quite-Americans.
Most, certainly many, characters have something to do with their authors on some level.
The process of writing this book was one of discovery. Henry was there somehow and writing the book was about uncovering and discovering that person, more than it was about mapping stuff from my life onto his. A very long game of hide and seek, and sometimes I was looking for Henry and I suppose sometimes I was looking for things about myself.
Which of the characters in A Quiet Kind of Courage do you identify with the most?
I tried very hard to see the world from each of my character’s eyes, so I suppose I identify with all of them. Henry is the heart of the novel and it is his life I imagined most fully. Like me, he hates green peppers and loves Bach, and I’m pretty sure the similarities go deeper than that. But I didn’t write Henry as a sort of mirror of myself, almost the opposite. I felt somehow that he was already there and my process as a writer was to discover him, to unearth his secrets. It was like living with a laconic but interesting grandfather for a couple of years.
There are many novels that have apartheid as a focus. What made you decide to write this book and what makes it different?
I don’t think it’s a novel about apartheid. To me, the book is about the conflict between humans and history – what happens to people and families and relationships when they run into powerful forces. The forces that change nations also have profound, sometimes devastating, effects on people.
Of course, the struggle against apartheid is a big part of Henry’s life and certainly part of the book. But it’s more about the ramifications than the causes of his actions. It’s more about what happens after the historical events, the ripples not the rock that is thrown.
What makes it different? It spans eighty years, Brooklyn and South Africa, three generations. Also, it’s told in interlocking narratives – and that created a structural jigsaw puzzle while I was writing. Well, first it created a big mess of disparate narratives, then, eventually, a puzzle that I could solve and rebuild.
Where do you write? Do you set hours or just put pen to paper when inspiration strikes?
I wrote a lot of this book in my apartment in New York. I had a couple of residencies at the idyllic MacDowell Colony in New Hampshire, where I was given a studio with a view, three meals a day and a big open sky to ponder.
Most of my desks tend to face a window and, with luck, trees and sky. That may account for all the sky and trees scattered through the book.
I wish I could say I have a very specific writing schedule, that I write every morning for a period of so many hours. Unfortunately, I don’t. I’m a binge writer. There are weeks, months even, when I write a great deal, when I’m consumed with what I’m writing, and it’s pretty much all I think about, even as I go about my regular life as a sort of ghost. Then there are very long periods when the writing takes a back seat or sometimes gets no seat at all.
Do any other writers inspire you?
Many. Too many to mention. I feel like an American writer. Saul Bellow, Philip Roth, William Faulkner and Edith Wharton are writers I admire and enjoy and, more than that, tend to read in a somewhat predatory manner.
As a boy I read Nadine Gordimer, who was writing about people and places I knew to a large extent, so because I could see both the object and the art I learned a lot from reading her. As a MFA student I was lucky enough to study with Peter Carey. The writing lessons seemed to keep tumbling out of the pages of his books long after I’d finished my degree.
When you’re not writing, how do you spend your time?
For the moment, traveling in South Africa. Soon, I’ll be spending my time with nappies and bottles. My girlfriend and I are expecting our first child in April. I hear that having a toddler is very good for sleep, writing and brings an abundance of free time. What? I’ve been misled.
I have a day job, so I spend a lot of my time helping big companies solve email and online marketing problems. It’s really got nothing to do with being a writer, but mostly I’m grateful for that.
I love music, play the guitar, go to gigs, spend as much time as I can with family, and I’m passionate about tennis.
What’s next?
Nappies and bottles and a year in London, and I’m jumping out of my boots with excitement.
On the writing front, I’m fighting my way through fog to a novel about three American siblings, one living in the New York suburbs, one in London and one in Africa.
Find out more about A Quiet Kind of Courage.
Visit Anthony Schneider’s website, find him on Facebook or follow him on Twitter.
Read an extract from the book here.
Photograph by Jeffrey Vock.