Winner of the Restless Books Prize for New Immigrant Writing, Grace Talusan’s memoir The Body Papers is, to quote writer Mia Alvar, “an extraordinary portrait of the artist as survivor.”
At age 2, Grace moved with her family from the Philippines to a suburb of Boston, where she became adrift between two worlds. On the one hand, she was made to feel “other” in her predominantly white neighborhood and school; on the other hand, she lost touch with her native language and culture, discovering what happens when “assimilation brings erasure.” In time, Grace confronted additional, traumatizing difficulties: the realization that her family’s residency status was “illegal,” making deportation an ever-present risk; sexual abuse by her paternal grandfather; and in later years, the discovery that she has a gene that makes carriers susceptible to breast and ovarian cancer. Consequently, she had to decide whether, as a preventive measure, to have her breasts and ovaries removed.
In her affecting and fiercely honest memoir, Grace breaks the silence that long surrounded these traumas, discovering what Kirkus Reviews describes as “the healing power of speaking the unspeakable.”
In interviews with the East Coast Asian American Student Union, Fiction Advocate, and The Rumpus, Grace has answered a wide range of questions about The Body Papers, discussing how the book came about, how she connected the various threads of her story, and the care she took in integrating information about living family members. Here, she responds to questions about the process of writing and revising The Body Papers, among other topics. (Full disclosure: Grace, a dear friend, has offered invaluable advice to me as I’ve written and revised my own novels.)
As I recall, some of the chapters in The Body Papers originated as short stories. Why did you write them as fiction at first?
I’ve been lucky to know you for many years and you’ve seen bits of The Body Papers as fiction. The short answer is that I’ve been mining my lived experience for writing for a long time, and I started publishing some of what became The Body Papers as fiction because I didn’t realize until much later that nonfiction was an option for me. For the long time in which I was practicing writing and dreaming of publishing a book, I worked things out in fiction first because it was the only way I thought I could approach this material, which comes from my life.
Not all of the fiction I published made it into the final version of my memoir, but I can tell you that some of this fiction were the seeds that came from the same ground as the memoir. Here are a few examples of fiction that you might recognize from my memoir in a different form:
“Girl in the Red Dress”
“Alien Hand”
“Little Bud” and “Of Geese and Men”
There was also some unpublished fiction that you saw in draft form that eventually made it into my memoir, such as the scene with my father making prosthetic eyes.
This is a lot of inside baseball and level of detail that people don’t need to know, but the point I’m trying to make is that I felt that there were stories that I needed to tell, whether in fiction or nonfiction, and I had to engage in the process of writing and failing at writing in order to find the form that was ultimately successful.
The fact that the stories exist in both fiction and nonfiction forms tells me something about storytelling. Some stories want to live, no matter what the form.
I also recall that your book originated as a collection of essays that, although strongly connected by your voice and vision, extended beyond memoir. What factored into the decision to reshape the book as a memoir, and what were the biggest challenges–and rewards–in rethinking and revising the book in this way?
A few years ago, I remember giving you a 300-page or more behemoth and asking for your feedback on the essay collection as a whole. I truly never believed it would come to anything, and I deliberated about whether I was wasting your time by asking you to read the manuscript, but there was a part of me that still wanted to try. That manuscript ended up being what I submitted for the New Immigrant Writing Contest. The Body Papers, the book that exists today, is very different from what you read.
As we worked on the book, we thought of it in different ways. I did publish many of the pieces in the book as stand-alone essays. As I worked on the book with my editors, the book began to change dramatically and organically. The essay collection became a memoir-in-essays and then finally, a memoir. In some ways, these designations didn’t matter that much to me. I had a sense of the reading experience I wanted the reader to have, and whatever we decided to call the book, ultimately, was fine with me. The book, whatever category or label it had, would be the container for my stories, and that’s all the mattered to me.
I see the photographs in The Body Papers as an integral component of the book, and I love how they complement the narrative and track the story of your life. How did you decide which among many possible photographs to include? Did the photographs get you to revise or rethink your writing in any way?
Thank you for recognizing that. I am proud and grateful for the contributions that my two main photographers, two important men in my life, my father and my husband, made to the book. My father took hundreds, maybe even thousands, of slides from my childhood, and I spent many hours going through them and really discovering myself again in those slides. (At some point, I will write about this.) My husband, Alonso Nichols, illustrated my contemporary experiences in the Philippines through his images.
The process of choosing photos was trial and error. We even changed photo choices from the galley or the advanced reader’s copy to the final hardcover book. After some thought, I decided I didn’t want any photos of my siblings after a certain age, and I also only wanted to allow one photo of my grandfather.
I loved so many of the photos that it was hard to choose which ones to leave out. I experienced a similar process in editing the text. In order for the images and stories to shine, I had to trim material. There’s only a certain amount of attention that people have and I could not waste it to appease my own desires. I thought a lot about the reader. This reader has lots of demands on their time and attention. I tried not to insult or bore them by having repetitions of text and image, although I’m sure I missed some repetitions. I allowed the photographs to do some of the work that the text could not. For example, I thought a lot about whether to include the school photos of me as a child. I decided that that series of photos gave information and conveyed a feeling that my writing could not.
I always like to learn about writers’ influences. Can you say a few words about why one of your relatives, the prolific writer Alfrredo Navarro Salanga, was a special inspiration to you? (I was moved by your reflections on him in the book, and by the poems of his that you included.)
Alfrredo Navarro Salanga was my first pen pal. We wrote letters to each other for a few years when I was a girl, and he even sent me books he wrote. I could not read the books, some were written in Filipino languages and some were just way over my comprehension as a child, but what was important about his influence on my writing is that he was a blood relative who had written and published a book. I never met him in person, he died before we could meet, but his impact on me was huge. I believed it was possible that I might write and publish a book someday because I saw that he had.
Long after he died, I went to the Philippines and came across so many people who knew him. They were his friends, but also his fans. He was a force of nature and important to so many people. I am sorry I never got to meet him in person, but I’ve felt his presence throughout my life. I was lucky to meet his friends in the Philippines and even today, I meet people who were touched by him. Through them, I continue to hear my uncle’s voice.
The Body Papers is a great title for the book. How did you come up with it, and what were you hoping it would telegraph to readers?
Thank you, but all credit for the title, The Body Papers, and the existence of the book in the first place goes to our friend, Joanne Diaz, a poet. She was able to see my book and believe in it before I could. She’s read almost everything I’ve ever published and because she is a poet and has put together collections and other books over the years, she thinks in ways that I don’t. She saw the book. She could see that I had all these essays and writings related to the body in all its forms.
Joanne has encouraged me in vital ways for as long as I’ve known her. She has helped me to become a better, braver person at crucial junctures. Everyone should have a friend like Joanne in their life.
I like what over people have said about the title, including the judges for the Restless Books Prize. The title alludes to the body as corporeal, but also the body as something imagined and constructed. The body as something we decide to participate in, such as the body of the family, nation, and even the Catholic Church. I remember being taught that I was part of the body of the Catholic Church, and Jesus was the head of this body. I felt comfort in that, feeling like I was part of something bigger than me.
Speaking for myself–and I’d venture to say, for a lot of other writers–few big writing projects are without “dark night of the soul” moments, moments when we have serious doubts about the work or about our ability to complete it. Did you ever have such moments while working on The Body Papers? How did you get through them?
Before I won the Restless Books Prize for New Immigrant Writing, which came with publication, I had many dark nights when I despaired about my life as a writer. I didn’t believe I would ever publish a book.
And even after signing the book contract and going through every step of the process towards publication, I still had dark nights of the soul. I still didn’t believe I would publish a book. Until I held the shiny green hardcover in my hands, I doubted. I kept thinking something would go wrong. Or that this was all a mistake.
I only got through this by having friends, family, colleagues, and supportive people in my life. They helped me. I needed to learn to allow people to help me. They believed in me and I believed in them, so I was able to hang on and keep working, taking the steps through the publication process. Having a supportive community, online or in real life, no matter what it is you’re trying to achieve, is essential to success. Find your people! It will change your life.
Is there any other advice you’d offer to writers undertaking big projects?
Surround yourself with other people trying to do seemingly impossible things. Help each other be accountable. Sit with each other while you work. Check in regularly on your path. Have small, achievable goals towards the larger project. You deserve to enjoy and complete this big project.
I had so much fear, but I am on the other side of publishing my first book, and knock on wood, it has been worth it. I only imagined the worst things that could happen from me sharing my stories that I never even entertained the possibility of the good things happening, which at this point is so, so many things. The Body Papers was reviewed twice in the New York Times, which I never even considered as a possibility. I’ve made new friends and have reconnected with old friends that I haven’t seen in decades. All kinds of possibilities for healing and transformed relationships have occurred because of publishing the book. I am learning that fear is something I can work through enough to enjoy the good things of life.
Readers, please note that the audiobook of The Body Papers is now available. (Check out this sample.) Also, Grace will be discussing the book at Papercuts J.P. in Boston on Thursday, July 25th, at 7 p.m.
Would My Pick be Your Pick?
If you're interested in ________, the answer may be "Yes":▪ Memoirs
▪ Insights into the immigrant experience
▪ Stories about surviving and coping with trauma
