| By
Ann-Marie Stillion
Northwest Asian Weekly
Strolling to the podium at the Elliott Bay Book Company in Seattle,
Don Lee doesn’t look very much like the editor of a prestigious literary
journal. Tall and athletic, his khaki shorts, plaid shirt and Teva sandals
make the writer look more like the guy in his Web site photos who drives
to Cape Cod to windsurf “whenever the forecast is good.”
Now it’s a hot, windless day in July, and the bookstore basement is
stuffy and not exactly filling up with an audience eager to meet the
man who has given much of his adult life to crafting and promoting American
literary fiction. Seattle is the beginning of the book tour for his
debut novel, Country of Origin, a story that takes place in the 1980s
in the hallways of embassies and the back rooms of sex clubs, drawn
from real stories of women in Japan who entertain men for a living.
Lee seems unperturbed by either the heat or the small crowd. He’s long
been soldiering in obscure realms, literary and otherwise, as a sort
of modern Don Quixote — an errant world citizen jousting against narrow
perspectives with the well-ordered sentence or the casual phrase.
Born in Japan to Korean American parents, his father was a career officer
in the U.S. State Department. His childhood was divided between Seoul
and Tokyo. He attended the American School in Japan and learned French
instead of Japanese because, at the time, he thought the family would
move to Paris. As a teenage gaijin (or “foreigner”) in Japan, he grew
up fast. By the time he got to college, “going out binge drinking was
old hat.”
“In my freshman year (in college) as an engineering major at UCLA, I
came in with a very specific idea. I watched a lot of Jacques Cousteau
when I was a kid. What I wanted to do was get a mechanical engineering
degree and go to the Scripps Institute and get a Ph.D. and build submersibles.
Then I went to visit, and they told me that only six people in the world
did this.” If that wasn’t enough to discourage him, there was something
else: He was, as he said, “bored to tears.”
“Switching over to English was a complete whim. I was not really aware
of the pragmatic future. I was not really thinking about what I was
going to do to make a living. I was a dreamer. I think I was kind of
an idiot in many ways.”
A composition teacher in a required course said his “writing had a flair.”
Lee began to study literature, appeasing his parents by telling them
that he was planning to go into law. He wasn’t. Two years later he was
accepted to a MFA program in writing in Boston.
There, the graduate student was drafted to read submissions for the
influential lit journal Ploughshares. Lee progressed up the ladder to
assistant fiction editor, and then to editor in the late ’80s.
Work published in Ploughshares often finds its way into the big prize
anthologies like The Best American Poetry, The Best American Short Stories
and The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses. Many of the country’s
most important contemporary writers, including Russell Banks and John
Irving, first appeared in print in the Massachusetts journal.
“I used to work a lot more at Ploughshares. There was a period of a
couple of years there, when I was building up the magazine, that I was
putting in 70 to 100 hours a week,” he said.
Before his 40th birthday, Lee decided to return to his first love —
writing — because he wanted “to have something to show for his life.”
A collection of his stories, Yellow, published in 2001, chronicled lives
in an imaginary coastal town in California called Rosarita Bay. Written
over a 10-year period, the writer sums up Yellow by saying that it is
about “characters who are afraid to live in one way or another.”
His incisive, passionate portraits of Asian Americans drew thanks from
younger Asian American readers who applaud him for paving the way. They
told him they were tired of the “immigrant stories” and were glad to
see the complexity of their lives being explored. He was nonplussed
when some critics quietly derided him for using his ethnicity to sell
books. It was something that had never occurred to him. The stories
won awards and praise from critics, however, including Sue Kaufman Prize
for First Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
Lee continued at his writing table, carving out three days a week from
his “day job” as Ploughshares editor to reach his next goal, which became
the novel he’s now promoting.
The hard-working writer-editor carefully plotted Country of Origin,
researching like mad, delving deeply into conveying an imaginary but
very real Japan. “It was the first time I tried a novel. I was terrified,”
he admitted. One character, though, surprised him. It was Kenzo Ota,
a luckless detective who finds love and the meaning of luck within the
dark world of Lee’s sometimes hapless victims.
“I was going to have the entire book center on the character of Tom
Hurley and the diplomatic community. And then the (half-black, half-white)
character of Lisa Countryman emerged, and Kenzo Ota. The cop, Ota, was
a complete surprise, and I really had fun finding the connections to
his character in the structure of the story.”
“No matter how much control you think you have over your material,”
Lee said, “it’s really the story that finds you, and not the other way.”
|