Indie Next Great Read, and 11 Stories, named by Kirkus as one of the best books of 2013 and winner of the Independent Publisher Book Awards for fiction. She also wrote the children’s picture book The Word Burglar, and the Audible Originals “Eddies” and “Grieving Conversations.” Cander’s fiction has been published in twelve languages. She lives in her native Houston with her husband and two children.
Cander's new novel is The Young of Other Animals.
My Q&A with the author:
How much work does your title do to take readers into the story?Visit Chris Cander's website.
I came across the phrase “The young of other animals” in the Oxford English Dictionary, Second Edition, Volume II as the I.1.b. obsolete definition of “bird.” It quoted John de Trevisa’s translation of Bartholomew de Glanville's De Proprietatibus Rerum c. 1495: “All fysshe…fede and kepe theyr byrdes.” That speakers of Middle English would refer to fish offspring as birds was interesting, but more compelling to me was the phrase itself, without the context provided by the quotation. It demanded to be lifted out and examined. I felt a shimmer of electricity at how those five simple words so forcefully conveyed a sense of danger or vulnerability: in the natural world, the young within a species are generally protected and provided for, while the young of other animals are likely prey.
Then I thought about the myriad relationships that could form between the implied elder of one kind of animal and the young of another. It could be predatory, certainly, but could also be symbiotic or protective or possessive. What kind of challenges might force an unexpected dynamic between unrelated animals? What makes certain animals—including humans—choose protection over predation, and how does that decision impact those involved? Those are precisely the concerns at the heart of this novel, and the dynamic plays out in both expected and unexpected ways throughout.
What's in a name?
The novel was inspired by something awful that happened to me when I was 19. When I was finally ready to write about it, I gave the awfulness to a girl named Paula. All she and I share is a similar name (my middle name is Paige),a birthday, a home state, and a really shitty night in 1989. Her mother, on the other hand, sprang from my imagination fully formed and told me in her Texas accent that her name was Mayree. “Not Mary,” she said. “May-REE.” I heard her salt and sass in that clear, admonishing declaration and it carried me all the way through to the end of the story. Her name is perfect for her; she carries a burden that—if you squint through Scripture—calls to mind the tragedy of the Virgin Mary, but she most definitely is not the kind of mother one would think to pray to.
How surprised would your teenage reader self be by your novel?
Very. She would marvel at how her future self dealt with the violent attack she thought she could forget if she tried hard enough, first by becoming physically indominable, then by using it as a cautionary tale for her self-defense students, and then by writing her way through it to a place of healing.
What non-literary inspirations have influenced your writing?
My martial arts training. Like writing, it demands discipline, practice, and patience. I devote regular time to both, and it has taken many years to develop my skills in each of those arts. I like that regardless of my level of expertise, I will never be an expert at either one; there is always more to learn.
My Book, The Movie: The Weight of a Piano.
The Page 69 Test: The Young of Other Animals.
My Book, The Movie: The Young of Other Animals.
--Marshal Zeringue