Jonathan Carroll’s special blend of novel resists attempts to classify it. It’s not science fiction, nor is it fantasy, nor is it realistic. His newest novel, “The Ghost in Love,” tells the story of a man who is fated to die but doesn’t; his ghost appears to tie up lose ends but finds that his body is still alive. The story is his attempt to reconcile his whole self—ghost, past, present, and future. Carroll, who is to speak at the Harvard Book Store tonight, shared his feelings about categorization, fiction, and childlike wonder in an e-mail conversation with The Crimson.



The Harvard Crimson: When you wrote “Voice of Our Shadow,” people “mistook” it for a horror novel. Later you were taken for a fantasy or science fiction writer. In past interviews you have said that you are trying to resist classification. What do you think about that?



Jonathan Carroll: Critics and people who run bookstores like to classify things because it makes their jobs easier: Put this in the mainstream section. This is a fantasy novel, etc. Whenever people ask what “kind” of books I write I usually smile and say “mixed salads.” In that I mean a good mixed salad has tomatoes, sliced onion, capers, lettuce...lots of different things, covered with a tasty dressing. In my work there are usually a variety of different tropes—a little fantasy, a little romance, some comedy, a few drops of scary—all whizzed together. A lettuce salad is boring. Better to have one with lots of different tastes and consistencies for the mouth and mind to play with. So too a book.



THC: Why do you think Americans so strongly desire to categorize novels?



JC: I don’t think it’s just novels. Categorizing things makes life easier, no matter what it is you’re dealing with. The problem with doing it is you lose out on some wonderful things that slip between the cracks. When I was first published in Germany, the publisher released my books in something called their “Fantastic Library.” You could immediately recognize these “FL” books because they all had pink covers. But you know who some of the writers were in that Fantastic Library? Gabriel García Márquez, Haruki Murakami, Stanislaw Lem, Julio Cortázar and others. Some of the most diverse, hard to categorize writers around. But for convenience’s sake, they were all given pink covers. Booksellers in Germany told me that people came into their stores and literally turned away when they saw those pink books because they “didn’t read science fiction.” Can you imagine how many readers missed out on the delight of those writers because they didn’t buy pink? Categorization.



THC: On your website it says you’re a “hyper-fiction writer.” What do you define as hyper-fiction?



JC: A German critic was the first one to use that term in an article he wrote about one of my books. I asked what he meant and he cryptically said, “Look up the word in the dictionary.” Lo and behold, one of the definitions of “hyper” was something like “reality that takes place beyond three dimensions.” I thought that was an interesting and appropriate way of looking at it.



THC: What was the impetus behind “The Ghost in Love”?



JC: I love 1930s screwball comedies. The writer-director Preston Sturges is one of my heroes and movies like “Sullivan’s Travels” or “Palm Beach Story” should be included on every space capsule that’s sent out into the heavens to show creatures on other planets who and what human beings are and what makes them wonderful and odd.

When I started this book I wanted to write a screwball comedy based on the classic love triangle. At the beginning I knew only a few things—the triangle would consist of a man, a woman, and a ghost. But as is usually the case with things I write, the story chose the direction it wanted to go in and I just followed. I’ve always said writing for me is like walking a very frisky St. Bernard or Irish Wolfhound puppy: You open the door, the dog flies out, and you do your best just to hold on.



THC: How would you describe this book?



JC: The guy you meet at a bar in a far away city who (hopefully) tells you a story interesting and strange enough to fill your evening and make you drink more than you originally intended.



THC: What do you think is the key to your popularity?



JC: One of the great losses we incur growing up is the sense of wonder. When was the last time you said a word like “Wow!” out loud and in total astonishment? Children live in a sense of wonder all the time, but as we grow older we learn saying loud wow’s is not a cool thing to do—it’s childish, etc. Part of the delight of books or movies, music and painting is on first encountering something terrific to our sensibilities, the wow returns. I think people like my books because they work towards reawakening that sense of unbridled wonder we once felt but have allowed to rust over in a corner of our adult minds.



THC: What do you think is the difference between your reception in the United States and your reception elsewhere? Do you find that there is a strikingly different reception of your novels in different countries?



JC: Yes, the reading demographic in different countries varies enormously. In Korea and Japan apparently lots of punks read my books. In Russia they’re popular among both university students and women. In Italy, France, and Sweden the books are categorized as a sort of “surreal noir” and the hipster crowds there buy them. The variety delights me and I often find myself grinning like a child when I hear who likes them.

—Interview conducted, condensed and edited by Rebecca A. Schuetz.

—Staff writer Rebecca A. Schuetz can be reached at schuetz@fas.harvard.edu.