Jennifer
Egan visited Carlisle a few weeks ago, and read the first chapter of
her Pulitzer-winner, A Visit From the Goon Squad. I was thrilled she
came to town. I don't know how Dickinson manages to book such amazing
authors as her, Ian McEwan and Margaret Atwood, among others. And to make the events
free to the public (exactly what I can afford).
Afterward,
during the brief Q &A session (extremely regimented, actually -
only five questions allowed), someone asked how she came up with the
title. Great question. It's not exactly a grabber of a title, except for
its oddness.
Ms. Egan expained she had come
up with the title before the story. Each story that she began, she
wondered, is this, finally, A Visit From the Goon Squad? At some point
while writing it, a line of dialogue made her realize that her WIP was,
indeed, the long awaited A Visit From the Goon Squad.
After
publication, the story didn't sell well at first. She kicked herself
for giving the book that title. But then, of course, it was nominated
for a Pulitzer, boosting sales, and then awarded the Pulitzer, and the
rest is bestseller history.
It surprised me
that Ms. Egan suffered from such insecurities, being such an established
author. Another surprise was the basis for the story - sparked from a
real-life incident in which a woman left her purse, with wallet in full
view, on the sink in a public rest room while she used the toilet.
Crazy, but true. But I found it reassuring that a well-known author did
this, as I've done it myself and felt like I'm pilfering, or my muse
hasn't quite done her job well enough.
Funny
story, though - Ms. Egan told how her own wallet had been stolen more
times than she could recall, and had received a call from the credit
card representative soon after her card was stolen. Ms. Egan shared more
information with the woman only to learn that she was, in fact, the
thief herself.
I purchased a copy of A Visit
From the Goon Squad after the reading, and the student used one of
those handheld credit card machines, sliding the imprinter over the
carbon slip again and again. The numbers grew illegible, but I didn't
argue. The next day, a woman called to ask me for my credit card number,
and I was tempted to ask whether she was really an employee of
Dickinson College, or someone who collected credit card numbers for her
own gain. But as I'd left my phone number with the girl, I gave her the
number again. I'll be watching my account statements, though. :)
