The Book of Reading follows two people 32 years apart in age, who travel through time to try and change history and wind up falling in love. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?

I think the inspiration for The Book of Reading may have been time itself, with its many mysteries—something very possibly true for all my novels. In the case of The Book of Reading, there was a specific real-life moment that remained with me—has remained with me—for sixty years. On my first day in Iowa City, in early September of 1963, I was standing around in front of my dorm in the late afternoon waiting for dinner and watching the all-girl bagpipe band they called “The Scottish Highlanders” do marching practice across the street. The moment seemed charmed, a kind of meeting-point, or a blending, of past and present. The band was old-fashioned, the dormitory was ancient, the day was hushed, warm, still, and different periods of time—past, present, maybe even future—seemed to come together into a single moment. That moment provided an epiphany for me and I never forgot it. Also, certain of my progenitors had been part of the university long before, back in the 1930s, and that fact also made me hyper-alert to Iowa City’s historic past. In that past also—in 1933, as if waiting to be found—was Eveline Stahl, though indeed she was put there by me. In Malcolm’s 1963 Iowa City, very soon after his arrival there, came the assassination of President Kennedy. Meanwhile, in the past, was Eveline, with her extraordinary understanding of the protective and healing tendrils that could be brought into existence through reading (if you did it right). And so, what might happen if those two, Eveline and Malcolm, were brought together in a way that could result in something healthful and healing to the republic? Does that question constitute a pipe-dream? Sure. But where would literature be if it weren’t for pipe-dreams, otherwise known as imagination (or, perhaps, as metaphor)?

Were you able to achieve everything you wanted with the characters in the novel?

Well, yes and no. Let me take the “yes” side first. The Book of Reading is about literature, about books, about writing, and, yes, about reading. I think of Eveline Stahl as a perfectly suited character cum inventress, cum guide, cum spirit, cum seer insofar as she relates to all of those—to literature, books, writing, and reading. In addition, she is a captivating figure who sees the world deeply, evenly, skillfully, stoically, and wholly. So she becomes an extraordinary mentor and instructor to Malcolm Reiner (especially through introducing him to the past)—and how could he help but fall in love with her, considering all the rare and life-affirming gifts she not only possesses but is willing to pass on to him? In turn, of course, Malcolm is also in some ways instructor to her, if only because he has lived thirty years further into the “future” than she has and can tutor her in regard to the horrors of those as-yet-unlived years. But, of the two, Eveline is the real literary genius, not Malcolm.

Now, the book, however, is also about something else, something very big. That thing is the nation itself—or, a more important word, the republic itself. As chance would have it, the first Kennedy assassination occurs just weeks after Malcolm’s arrival in Iowa City, and the question it raises (whether or not perceived right away) is whether the republic will die or whether it will survive. As that almost invisible question emerges bit by bit into the light (the republic is symbolized in good part by Malcolm’s father), the young lovers set about doing all they can in the republic’s behalf. With Eveline’s powerful intuitive genius and Malcolm’s practical determination, the couple set out on an immense project to study, scrutinize, learn—to “read”—the republic. They do this in a variety of ways, through their own continuous book-reading, of course, but also through their program of treks, travel, outings, and explorings both through geography and through time, until they feel sufficiently prepared—albeit with remaining doubts—to set out on their attempt to put things right.

The fact that they fail may or may not be due to their own weaknesses and flaws of character. I’m not absolutely sure, but I don’t think so. I think they remain heroic in spite of the fact—in spite of the truth—that they do get crushed, absolutely, by immense forces far beyond their control. On second thought, though, what I’ve just said may not be entirely true. Eveline disappears back into the yawning gulf of the past, yes, but wherever she is, her irrepressible and expressive genius will go on existing. She’s gone from “now,” but she will continue to imbue the past with her immense and humane gifts. She’ll be a force helping keep the best qualities ofthe past alive. And a people whose past remains rich, reasoned, and humane—even if not completely so—is a people who still stand at least a chance of being able to build a reasoned and humane future—in spite of the fiercely demonic and destructive calamity that may intervene in the “present,” which is to say in our “now.”

Malcolm, though, isn’t so lucky. Even if a humane and redemptive future for the republic is fated somehow to come (a future that will be imbued—just as this present book is imbued—by the spirit of Eveline), he won’t live to see it. He will meet death with nothing but memory—of Eveline, of the republic, of the past.

Is there any moral or idea that you hope readers take away from the story?

The past, present, and future are all one, and human beings face cataclysm, loss, and doom if they fail to treasure and venerate all three equally, a disastrous failure that we are suffering from in our own nation and world today. Without a past that’s spiritually alive and whole, there can be no present that’s spiritually alive and whole. And without a present that’s spiritually alive and whole, there can be no future that’s spiritually alive and whole. All are connected—past, present, and future—and all must be husbanded and revered. All three, in one important way or another, are humane and living things.

There’s a passage in Undreaming Wetiko, the new book by Paul Levy, the extraordinary spiritual guide and philosopher, that speaks to this idea. I came across it recently and it made me think of The Book of Reading.

The activity of stepping out of the present moment is based on the false assumption that there is another moment to escape to, while the truth is that there is no exit from the present moment. The future always grows out of that which is present, but it cannot be wholesome if it grows in morbid soil. If we don’t deal with our unhealthiness in the present moment, we will be destined to create a sick future.

What is the next book that you are working on, and when can your fans expect it to be out?

My next book is a volume of stories with the cautionary title of Eternal Damnation. I hope it will be out this year, 2024, probably in the later months.

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