INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR/ILLUSTRATOR BETSY JAMES,
conducted by Teresa Edgerton, for the Chronicles Network
Betsy James has written and/or illustrated more than a dozen books, ranging from picture books to young adult novels, textbooks to fantasy. Her list of awards and honors is impressive, including recognition from School Library Journal, Voices of Youth Advocates, and the Junior Library Guild.
As the daughter of a geologist and a zoologist, Betsy says she learned to pay special attention to rocks and animals. Born in Missouri and raised and educated in Utah, she lives now in New Mexico where she likes hiking and back-packing -- and adding to her collection of rocks during frequent forays into the desert
A self-taught illustrator, she’s hasn’t confined herself to children’s books; her resume includes medical and scientific drawings, as well as sketches made at archeological digs. In addition to writing and illustrating, she often visits schools to talk to children about writing. One of her favorite places to visit is Zuni Pueblo, where she helps to run an elementary-school writer's workshop.
I had the pleasure of meeting Betsy at BayCon, and was so impressed with what she had to say during the panel we shared with several other writers, I asked to interview her for the Chronicles Network. Returning home after the convention, I finally remembered why her name sounded so familiar: I had read and enjoyed two of her YA books, Long Night Dance and Dark Heart, several years before, but eventually gave up looking for a sequel when none materialized. Naturally, I was delighted to learn that new editions of both books were now available, and the long wished-for sequel had recently been published. Within a month of our fortunate meeting, I had reread the first two, and devoured the third.
The following interview, in two parts, was conducted via a series of emails:
PART ONE
CHRONICLES NETWORK: I like the way the way you portray Kat throughout the three books that make up the Seeker Chronicles: The more empowered she becomes in her own right, the more understanding she gains; it’s a slow but unmistakable transformation from girl into young woman. And the more she knows herself, the more clearly she sees other people. Did you foresee all these changes when you first began to write her story in Long Night Dance?
BETSY JAMES: The three books of the Seeker Chronicles—Long Night Dance, Dark Heart, and Listening at the Gate—follow Kat’s coming of age, from fifteen to seventeen. Of course I couldn't forsee Kat’s changes, any more than I could forsee how I would change in writing about her. I knew she would change—she was so clearly at a tipping point—and I trusted that I could bungle along after her as she did. That’s the excitement, indeed the passion of writing: when you can feel that a character is so ripe for change that she is poised for an inevitable plunge forward into the world, yet you can't predict—I cite chaos theory here—what shape her plunge and growth will take, because there are so many variables in the living world you have invoked. For a writer, that's exciting!
CHRONICLES NETWORK: In Listening at the Gate, I thought you were saying that when people accept the guidance of bad leaders even good people can gradually be led on to condone more and more shocking actions IF those actions have authority behind them. Is this right?
BETSY JAMES: Truly, I don’t write stories with intentional morals. I kiss the feet of Ursula Le Guin for her words on that topic, which you can find at http://www.cbcbooks.org/cbcmagazine/meet/leguin_ursula_k.html
I’m cautious about analyzing my own writing. It’s true I have an English degree (with no teaching certificate, which explains why I spent time as a waitress), but when I was earning it I was mostly interested in gypsies and guys.
That said, it seems to me that a recurrent theme in my writing is the absolute cultural relativity of ethics and morals. There have been times and places in human history when it was considered okay to eat babies. We think ourselves more enlightened, of course; yet currently, from some quite respected human perspectives, it’s considered okay to blow babies up. Though not to eat them afterwards, which from other perspectives could be regarded as a waste.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Do you remember how old you were when you first began writing your own stories? Do you remember any of those earliest stories?
BETSY JAMES: I began both writing and illustrating “seriously”—employing some version of the kind of imagination I still use to write—at eleven. I distinctly remember that “Aha!”: I was designing a WANTED poster for some drama or other, when it dawned on me that I could “look-listen-feel” inward exactly as I looked-listened-felt outward. I could use the same awareness and attentiveness to detail in the imagination as I could in my ordinary life, and could record it in either images or words. It was like finding the door to a private universe. I practiced it secretly.
My mother had the wisdom to keep me supplied with paper, brushes, pens, and a lockable box to keep my writing in. I wrote and wrote, tore up and tore up. At twelve or so I encountered the selkie story; the bulk of my writing thereafter was about people who were half human and half seal.
Later, of course, I considered myself to have outgrown such fantasies. But when I began to paint and write longer narratives I turned back to the early stories because they carried that passion which is at its most intense when we are teens. They formed the starting place for The Morning Series—a group of 315 watercolors which I painted as the best way to get back in touch with that deep, still-teenage intensity. The rough narrative they formed became The Seeker Chronicles: Long Night Dance, Dark Heart, and Listening at the Gate. You can find more about the Morning Series, with a selection of art, on my website, www.betsyjames.com.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Along with Celtic selkies, am I right in detecting a Native American (especially Inuit) influence on your seal people, the Rigi?
BETSY JAMES: As a teenager I was captivated by the selkie story, but knew nothing about the sea; I’ve always lived in the desert West, where the seas dried up sixty million years ago. In order to write Kat’s story I had to make ocean field trips and learn to kayak. Some bits of Inuit culture came along with that.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Listening at the Gate was written (or at least published) quite a while after Long Night Dance and Dark Heart. What made you decide to come back to this world and these characters, or was that something you always intended?
BETSY JAMES: Let us kneel and give fervent thanks to J. K. Rowling. When the first two were published YA fantasy was dead in the water: the books won awards and quietly vanished. Then along came you-know-who.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: What was your inspiration for the repressive, misogynistic society of the people in Upslope?
BETSY JAMES: For repressive, misogynistic, abusive societies, we don’t have to look too far anywhere on planet Earth, do we? I keep thinking, “My writing is too strong.” Then I read the news and think, “I’m not writing strongly enough.”
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Readers get a clearer and more balanced idea of both these cultures in Listening at the Gate. (I like the way that some of this emerges through Kat's maturing viewpoint.) Was this planned from the very beginning, or did this gradually develop?
BETSY JAMES: I’m awfully good and awfully bad myself. It’s hard to recognize that and not realize everybody else must be the same.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: What were some of your sources of inspiration for the songs, verses, and sayings that turn up throughout the Seeker Chronicles and Listening at the Gate? In the Rigi’s song, I think I see a Celtic influence: it starts out like an old ballad, “The Great Selkie of Sule Skerry,” but then it turns into something that sounds more like “The Song of Amergin.”
BETSY JAMES: You’re perceptive! “The Rigi’s Song” is derived from both the Child ballad “The Great Silkie” and Robert Graves’s “restoration” of the ca. 800 A.D. Irish/Welsh “Song of Amergin.”
CHRONICLES NETWORK: I was fascinated by the handslaps, the rhythmic chanting and clapping games that all the children play in LATG and I loved the idea of little girls playing games in the midst of turmoil -- but it’s not frivolous, because it’s a form of communication the adults have forgotten.* I thought it was brilliant, but how did you come to think of using children’s games in this way?
BETSY JAMES: My mother was an astonishing compendium of songs and ditties, popular and obscure, sweet and deep and hilarious and obscene. That quirky, free, sly education in rhythm and populist poetry was the best foundation for writing—and in some ways for life—that I could have had. Raffi she was not, thank god. When I go into the schools as a visiting author and watch teachers desperately trying to coax children into writing "nice" stories—"Can't the Great White shark and the Tyrannosaurus Rex be friends?"—I think with gratitude of Mom singing us to sleep with “The St. James Infirmary Blues.”
Kids are awful. We're all awful. And gorgeous, and silly, and tragic, and passionate, and happy; kids' chants and popular verse reflect us honestly. It was a delight to use my mother's singsongs, as well as my love of traditional folk music, to invite a singing culture for Listening at the Gate. Like Yeats and Dylan, some I flat-out stole. The carter's song on page 55 is a loose translation of a rakish Mexican folksong:
Dicen que los de tu casa
Ninguno me puede ver;
Diles que no batan el agua
Que al cabo lo han de beber.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Related to that question: Are you familiar with Children’s Games in Street and Playground, by Iona and Peter Opie?
BETSY JAMES: No, but the Opie's The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren has been a longtime delight and influence.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: The bits and pieces of different languages that you drop in here and there add a feeling of depth and authenticity to your imaginary places and cultures. How did you go about forming the names and words that represent the various societies and ethnic groups?
BETSY JAMES: I was so busy paddling around in a proto-kayak that by the time it occurred to me, dimly, that languages have identifiable structures, the book was in galleys. I'll do better next time—though probably not much, since I learn imaginary languages the same way I’ve learned my bits of Zuni: the names of animals, almost no verbs, and a few bad words taught by third grade boys.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Traditionally, the jobs of spinning and weaving are most often associated with women, while men are portrayed as the hunters and defenders; in DH the men of Creek are weavers AND hunters, while the woman make pots and look after the home. How did these ideas develop as you wrote the story?
BETSY JAMES: I’m grinning; not from New Mexico, are you? Among the Ancestral Puebloan cultures the men were weavers and hunters, the women potters and homemakers. In Dark Heart it was fun to do a historically valid send-up of our culture-bound take on the division of labor. When the spindle is a phallic symbol, can there be spinsters?
In Long Night Dance I invoked a culture in which the men infantilize the women; in Dark Heart it was interesting to invite one in which the women infantilize the men. The government of Creek is female, and the men are seen by the women as eternally "lads": flighty jocks, no thoughts worth listening to, guys on a perpetual hunting trip. To me this latter imbalance is as pernicious as the former—and both are found in contemporary society. Few readers have caught this, which is interesting in itself.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Am I right in detecting a whiff of the southwest in the physical setting of the book?
BETSY JAMES: Writers write with their bodies, and mine has spent decades hiking the desert Southwest. I've taught at Zuni Pueblo intermittently for almost twenty years.
We are changed by the places we live and the cultures we live among. Because I try to inhabit my characters deeply, it would be impossible for me to write from the POV of an actual culture that was not mine—the Zuni, say. I could never get deep enough. Yet I've been profoundly changed by the Southwest, and that's truth, too. Fantasy provides the ideal venue for us to experiment with those influences without trying to pretend to be of a culture we don’t know in our bones. Fantasy is the soul's melting pot.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Bears play an important role in Dark Heart, and particularly through the rite of passage the girls go through to become women. What inspired you to make the bear so important in the rituals and the spiritual life of the people in Creek? Do bears have some special significance for you in the same way the seal people do?
BETSY JAMES: I like bears. Here in New Mexico they live in the deserts and mountains close to us; sometimes we meet them. They are human-sized, and seem like earth-people in fur coats, the way selkies are sea-people in fur coats. From what little I know, most of the Puebloan cultures have a Bear clan. Bears seem a natural choice for an animal to identify with.
(part two follows in the next message)
conducted by Teresa Edgerton, for the Chronicles Network
Betsy James has written and/or illustrated more than a dozen books, ranging from picture books to young adult novels, textbooks to fantasy. Her list of awards and honors is impressive, including recognition from School Library Journal, Voices of Youth Advocates, and the Junior Library Guild.
As the daughter of a geologist and a zoologist, Betsy says she learned to pay special attention to rocks and animals. Born in Missouri and raised and educated in Utah, she lives now in New Mexico where she likes hiking and back-packing -- and adding to her collection of rocks during frequent forays into the desert
A self-taught illustrator, she’s hasn’t confined herself to children’s books; her resume includes medical and scientific drawings, as well as sketches made at archeological digs. In addition to writing and illustrating, she often visits schools to talk to children about writing. One of her favorite places to visit is Zuni Pueblo, where she helps to run an elementary-school writer's workshop.
I had the pleasure of meeting Betsy at BayCon, and was so impressed with what she had to say during the panel we shared with several other writers, I asked to interview her for the Chronicles Network. Returning home after the convention, I finally remembered why her name sounded so familiar: I had read and enjoyed two of her YA books, Long Night Dance and Dark Heart, several years before, but eventually gave up looking for a sequel when none materialized. Naturally, I was delighted to learn that new editions of both books were now available, and the long wished-for sequel had recently been published. Within a month of our fortunate meeting, I had reread the first two, and devoured the third.
The following interview, in two parts, was conducted via a series of emails:
PART ONE
CHRONICLES NETWORK: I like the way the way you portray Kat throughout the three books that make up the Seeker Chronicles: The more empowered she becomes in her own right, the more understanding she gains; it’s a slow but unmistakable transformation from girl into young woman. And the more she knows herself, the more clearly she sees other people. Did you foresee all these changes when you first began to write her story in Long Night Dance?
BETSY JAMES: The three books of the Seeker Chronicles—Long Night Dance, Dark Heart, and Listening at the Gate—follow Kat’s coming of age, from fifteen to seventeen. Of course I couldn't forsee Kat’s changes, any more than I could forsee how I would change in writing about her. I knew she would change—she was so clearly at a tipping point—and I trusted that I could bungle along after her as she did. That’s the excitement, indeed the passion of writing: when you can feel that a character is so ripe for change that she is poised for an inevitable plunge forward into the world, yet you can't predict—I cite chaos theory here—what shape her plunge and growth will take, because there are so many variables in the living world you have invoked. For a writer, that's exciting!
CHRONICLES NETWORK: In Listening at the Gate, I thought you were saying that when people accept the guidance of bad leaders even good people can gradually be led on to condone more and more shocking actions IF those actions have authority behind them. Is this right?
BETSY JAMES: Truly, I don’t write stories with intentional morals. I kiss the feet of Ursula Le Guin for her words on that topic, which you can find at http://www.cbcbooks.org/cbcmagazine/meet/leguin_ursula_k.html
I’m cautious about analyzing my own writing. It’s true I have an English degree (with no teaching certificate, which explains why I spent time as a waitress), but when I was earning it I was mostly interested in gypsies and guys.
That said, it seems to me that a recurrent theme in my writing is the absolute cultural relativity of ethics and morals. There have been times and places in human history when it was considered okay to eat babies. We think ourselves more enlightened, of course; yet currently, from some quite respected human perspectives, it’s considered okay to blow babies up. Though not to eat them afterwards, which from other perspectives could be regarded as a waste.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Do you remember how old you were when you first began writing your own stories? Do you remember any of those earliest stories?
BETSY JAMES: I began both writing and illustrating “seriously”—employing some version of the kind of imagination I still use to write—at eleven. I distinctly remember that “Aha!”: I was designing a WANTED poster for some drama or other, when it dawned on me that I could “look-listen-feel” inward exactly as I looked-listened-felt outward. I could use the same awareness and attentiveness to detail in the imagination as I could in my ordinary life, and could record it in either images or words. It was like finding the door to a private universe. I practiced it secretly.
My mother had the wisdom to keep me supplied with paper, brushes, pens, and a lockable box to keep my writing in. I wrote and wrote, tore up and tore up. At twelve or so I encountered the selkie story; the bulk of my writing thereafter was about people who were half human and half seal.
Later, of course, I considered myself to have outgrown such fantasies. But when I began to paint and write longer narratives I turned back to the early stories because they carried that passion which is at its most intense when we are teens. They formed the starting place for The Morning Series—a group of 315 watercolors which I painted as the best way to get back in touch with that deep, still-teenage intensity. The rough narrative they formed became The Seeker Chronicles: Long Night Dance, Dark Heart, and Listening at the Gate. You can find more about the Morning Series, with a selection of art, on my website, www.betsyjames.com.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Along with Celtic selkies, am I right in detecting a Native American (especially Inuit) influence on your seal people, the Rigi?
BETSY JAMES: As a teenager I was captivated by the selkie story, but knew nothing about the sea; I’ve always lived in the desert West, where the seas dried up sixty million years ago. In order to write Kat’s story I had to make ocean field trips and learn to kayak. Some bits of Inuit culture came along with that.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Listening at the Gate was written (or at least published) quite a while after Long Night Dance and Dark Heart. What made you decide to come back to this world and these characters, or was that something you always intended?
BETSY JAMES: Let us kneel and give fervent thanks to J. K. Rowling. When the first two were published YA fantasy was dead in the water: the books won awards and quietly vanished. Then along came you-know-who.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: What was your inspiration for the repressive, misogynistic society of the people in Upslope?
BETSY JAMES: For repressive, misogynistic, abusive societies, we don’t have to look too far anywhere on planet Earth, do we? I keep thinking, “My writing is too strong.” Then I read the news and think, “I’m not writing strongly enough.”
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Readers get a clearer and more balanced idea of both these cultures in Listening at the Gate. (I like the way that some of this emerges through Kat's maturing viewpoint.) Was this planned from the very beginning, or did this gradually develop?
BETSY JAMES: I’m awfully good and awfully bad myself. It’s hard to recognize that and not realize everybody else must be the same.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: What were some of your sources of inspiration for the songs, verses, and sayings that turn up throughout the Seeker Chronicles and Listening at the Gate? In the Rigi’s song, I think I see a Celtic influence: it starts out like an old ballad, “The Great Selkie of Sule Skerry,” but then it turns into something that sounds more like “The Song of Amergin.”
BETSY JAMES: You’re perceptive! “The Rigi’s Song” is derived from both the Child ballad “The Great Silkie” and Robert Graves’s “restoration” of the ca. 800 A.D. Irish/Welsh “Song of Amergin.”
CHRONICLES NETWORK: I was fascinated by the handslaps, the rhythmic chanting and clapping games that all the children play in LATG and I loved the idea of little girls playing games in the midst of turmoil -- but it’s not frivolous, because it’s a form of communication the adults have forgotten.* I thought it was brilliant, but how did you come to think of using children’s games in this way?
BETSY JAMES: My mother was an astonishing compendium of songs and ditties, popular and obscure, sweet and deep and hilarious and obscene. That quirky, free, sly education in rhythm and populist poetry was the best foundation for writing—and in some ways for life—that I could have had. Raffi she was not, thank god. When I go into the schools as a visiting author and watch teachers desperately trying to coax children into writing "nice" stories—"Can't the Great White shark and the Tyrannosaurus Rex be friends?"—I think with gratitude of Mom singing us to sleep with “The St. James Infirmary Blues.”
Kids are awful. We're all awful. And gorgeous, and silly, and tragic, and passionate, and happy; kids' chants and popular verse reflect us honestly. It was a delight to use my mother's singsongs, as well as my love of traditional folk music, to invite a singing culture for Listening at the Gate. Like Yeats and Dylan, some I flat-out stole. The carter's song on page 55 is a loose translation of a rakish Mexican folksong:
Dicen que los de tu casa
Ninguno me puede ver;
Diles que no batan el agua
Que al cabo lo han de beber.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Related to that question: Are you familiar with Children’s Games in Street and Playground, by Iona and Peter Opie?
BETSY JAMES: No, but the Opie's The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren has been a longtime delight and influence.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: The bits and pieces of different languages that you drop in here and there add a feeling of depth and authenticity to your imaginary places and cultures. How did you go about forming the names and words that represent the various societies and ethnic groups?
BETSY JAMES: I was so busy paddling around in a proto-kayak that by the time it occurred to me, dimly, that languages have identifiable structures, the book was in galleys. I'll do better next time—though probably not much, since I learn imaginary languages the same way I’ve learned my bits of Zuni: the names of animals, almost no verbs, and a few bad words taught by third grade boys.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Traditionally, the jobs of spinning and weaving are most often associated with women, while men are portrayed as the hunters and defenders; in DH the men of Creek are weavers AND hunters, while the woman make pots and look after the home. How did these ideas develop as you wrote the story?
BETSY JAMES: I’m grinning; not from New Mexico, are you? Among the Ancestral Puebloan cultures the men were weavers and hunters, the women potters and homemakers. In Dark Heart it was fun to do a historically valid send-up of our culture-bound take on the division of labor. When the spindle is a phallic symbol, can there be spinsters?
In Long Night Dance I invoked a culture in which the men infantilize the women; in Dark Heart it was interesting to invite one in which the women infantilize the men. The government of Creek is female, and the men are seen by the women as eternally "lads": flighty jocks, no thoughts worth listening to, guys on a perpetual hunting trip. To me this latter imbalance is as pernicious as the former—and both are found in contemporary society. Few readers have caught this, which is interesting in itself.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Am I right in detecting a whiff of the southwest in the physical setting of the book?
BETSY JAMES: Writers write with their bodies, and mine has spent decades hiking the desert Southwest. I've taught at Zuni Pueblo intermittently for almost twenty years.
We are changed by the places we live and the cultures we live among. Because I try to inhabit my characters deeply, it would be impossible for me to write from the POV of an actual culture that was not mine—the Zuni, say. I could never get deep enough. Yet I've been profoundly changed by the Southwest, and that's truth, too. Fantasy provides the ideal venue for us to experiment with those influences without trying to pretend to be of a culture we don’t know in our bones. Fantasy is the soul's melting pot.
CHRONICLES NETWORK: Bears play an important role in Dark Heart, and particularly through the rite of passage the girls go through to become women. What inspired you to make the bear so important in the rituals and the spiritual life of the people in Creek? Do bears have some special significance for you in the same way the seal people do?
BETSY JAMES: I like bears. Here in New Mexico they live in the deserts and mountains close to us; sometimes we meet them. They are human-sized, and seem like earth-people in fur coats, the way selkies are sea-people in fur coats. From what little I know, most of the Puebloan cultures have a Bear clan. Bears seem a natural choice for an animal to identify with.
(part two follows in the next message)