PD: Thank you for the plug.

As for the rest, I don't mean to be obnoxious, but the only honest answer to that question is to begin reciting the text of the book and keep on until threatened, or until I get to the end.

Once I've heard from readers what they have taken away, I know whether I think it's a good idea for them to do that or not, but I can't really do a list. I can give some examples. With Tam Lin, it always pleases me if people say they have gone off and looked up the stuff quoted; if they like the interlocking references to Hamlet, if they saw the early indications of the ballad plot, if they are reminded either of an actual college experience or of one they wish they'd had. I'm pleased if they think certain of the romantic relationships are pleasing or realistic or better than the usual clichéd stuff. I'm not pleased when people think Janet [the heroine of Tam Lin] always speaks for the author or that the author intends to endorse all of her behavior as wonderful. I'm not pleased if they think the book demonstrates that Roe vs. Wade was a bad idea. I'm not pleased if they think I'm personally recommending every piece of literature referenced and if they then get mad when they don't like some of it. I'm pleased if they think certain things are funny and displeased if they think I haven't noticed that these things are funny.

The afterword to the book expresses as best I can what I wanted readers to take away, but my best is not very good.

With the Secret Country books, I actually suffered from an immense overweening ambition. I had in my childhood had access to certain well-beloved books only through the public library, and had lost track of them. When I was a senior in college I went to London for ten weeks and happened upon a children's bookstore in a boat, in Greenwich. There in little Puffin editions were many of my lost loves. I bought them and read them and was desolated. They were so short, so obvious, so unnuanced. (Lots of writers have described experiences like this one, though their reactions vary a great deal.)

I decided I wanted to write a book that would have the flavor I liked in those books, the fantastical setting, the mystery, the humor, and the huge sense of gigantic forces moving in the background, only imperfectly sensed by the characters, the reader, and maybe even the author. I also wanted it to have that quality that C.S. Lewis calls "joy." He describes this quality perfectly in his autobiography. He thinks it's connected to the human yearning for and partial recognition of God. I'm an atheist, but I recognize the numinous just the same.

In any case, I wanted the book I planned to write to have that flavor for ten-year-olds AND for thirty-year-olds AND for 90-year-olds. I wanted that flavor to remain through endless rereadings. I wanted to write the most rereadable book imaginable.

I still do, with every one. That's really the only answer that doesn't take reciting the book in toto. I want people to want to come back, because they aren't finished yet, and the book isn't finished with them.

TDS: Tam Lin is the retelling of a Scottish ballad set on the landscape of the Vietnam Era United States. The Dubious Hills is a look at a world where every person is pigeon-holed into a specific, predestined role and where knowledge is a dangerous, frightening thing. Juniper, Gentian and Rosemary ambles through the difference between good and evil as both affect time, energy and mental state. Each of your books asks a serious question or lays out a very real philosophical interest. Do you purposefully set out to explore a specific theme, then build your work around that, or do you have an idea of the type of world/character you want to write and then find the theme exploring those?

PD: The only time I ever set out to explore a specific theme, almost nobody understood that I was trying to explore it. I hope I've learned my lesson.

Mostly I begin with characters and with dialogue between them. I don't begin with characters in a situation or characters with a problem. Just people, talking. That's how I find out what is happening. I eavesdrop. Sometimes I also have another idea.

As I said earlier, The Dubious Hills started out as idle noodling about a name I'd given to a country without thinking about it much. Juniper, Gentian, and Rosemary revived a story I had tried to write about fifteen times, beginning in high school, the story of the time machine in the attic. It's also based on a ballad, but if the ballad hadn't brought up to my mind, suddenly, the dim dusty recollection of the time machine, I wouldn't have wanted to base a story on it.

Tam Lin is based on a ballad too, but if I hadn't felt the resemblance between some of the ballad's preoccupations and some of the preoccupations I'd had in college, it wouldn't have make a spark either.

TDS: Which characters of classic literature would you most like to entertain for an evening? Which of your own characters' company would you prefer?

PD: I never can answer that kind of question. It's like breaking the fourth wall. It makes me feel like some of the more alarming moments in the Alice books, when everything goes haywire. The nice thing about reading, really, is that one can be present without worrying about whether one's social skills are really up to the task. And furthermore, one can truly enjoy people who would be terribly annoying if they had one at their mercy, or if one felt the obligation to speak up about their nonsense.

The only characters I can think of offhand whom I'd actually like to entertain are from Emma Bull's Bone Dance. I'd adore to have Sparrow, Sherrea, and Frances over to tea. But you know, in the most important sense, since I know Emma, I've already done that.

That was for the first question, about entertaining other people's characters. As for my own, that's even more hair-tearing. I really can't imagine them in the real world. No, that's not accurate. They are real enough. I cannot imagine them in this world, in the outside world.

I'm sorry to be such a wimp.

TDS: I know you are working on a new book. Can you say what themes you'll be exploring or how classic literature might figure in to this one?

PD:For my sins, I'm writing a joint sequel to The Dubious Hills and The Whim of the Dragon. So you know that classic literature will be present all cut out in little stars for spells, and embedded in everyday speech like raisins in bread. The book takes place largely at Heathwill Library, which is certainly full of books, but I don't know yet which ones. The themes I mean to explore, which doesn't actually say much about what the real book will do, include friendship, first love, sexual tension, the obligations of the imagination (this is a given in any Secret Country book), loyalty, the catastrophic effect of new knowledge, unintended consequences, and gender roles.

TDS: This issue of The Dusty Shelf is looking at censorship and the banning of books in libraries and public schools. Where do you stand on that issue? Should a book like Tom Sawyer be banned while books like the Goosebumps series are readily available?

PD: A book like Tom Sawyer shouldn't be banned whether the Goosebumps books are available or not. I'm against banning books. I think that the harm done when people stumble up against books they aren't ready for yet is less than the harm done by depriving people of books that could do them good.

The Goosebumps books have probably done at least one reader far more good than Tom Sawyer ever could. I see no point in anything except wild variety and a willingness on the part of parents and educators to cope with the consequences.

TDS: And finally, you have successfully published several well written, thought provoking books which will stand the test of time.

PD: I sincerely hope you are right about that.

TDS: Well, I think they will! Which part of your work's journey to the bookshelf has been your favorite and what part of the writing process do you find the most fulfilling?

PD: Except for being stuck on some bit or other and glaring at the keyboard for days and days, almost any part is my favorite while I'm doing it.

Right now I'm really enjoying having finally got a grip on the voice and momentum of a book but still being in the comparatively early stages.

Being in the middle is very cozy and exciting at the same time; running up to the end is like a huge rollercoaster ride with fireworks. Revision is extremely satisfying when it's my idea. I don't enjoy making revisions suggested by others that I see the sense and utility of but haven't made part of my mindset yet.

I love having my nearest and dearest read the manuscript and react to it.

I don't like going over the copyedited manuscript very much; that's the point at which mistakes both caught and uncaught tend to loom very large, and I tend to feel the whole book is a gigantic mistake.

I like holding the finished book in my hands. It's like a magic trick.

I like readers' reactions. Early on in the process, I like almost all of them even if they are negative. Eventually the negative ones become a little boring and sometimes they drive me nuts, but there's an amazing amount of useful information in most of them. In the end, while that may not be the very best part, the lasting pleasure is in the dialogue of the book with readers, which I don't so much participate in as overhear.

TDS: Thank you so much for taking the time to answer questions. With every answer I think of new ones to ask, but the interview has to end somewhere. Alas!

I strongly encourage all of our readers to pick up one of Ms. Dean’s books. Of course, Tam Lin is my favorite, but I also highly recommend The Dubious Hills. Wherever you begin in her bibliography, you’ll find yourself surrounded by Classic favorites. Reading a Pamela Dean book is much like being in a library, titles abounding.

Again, many thanks to Pamela Dean for being so kind as to consent to an interview. Look for new editions of her Secret Country trilogy in your bookstores!

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Lane Morris Buckman studied English, Foreign Language and Classics at the University of Texas at Arlington, where she received her B.A. in 1995.
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