The WNYC host’s first novel, My Name Was Gerry Sass, traces the aftermath of the eponymous Midwestern hit man’s murder.
In the novel, Gerry runs a public radio station in Iowa, in addition to being a hit man. How did your living in the Midwest and working in radio shape this story?
It’s less about the experiences themselves than the perspectives I gained on them after moving to New York. With distance, I’ve come to appreciate a specific Midwestern ethos and way of moving through the world. That perspective has stayed with me. There’s a common misconception that we’re simple and lack a variety of opinions or a breadth of knowledge. I wanted to tell a story about complicated people who embodied a Midwestern type of antihero: imperfect and, in a weird way, lovable. That combination felt inseparable from the place itself.
Did any specific personal experiences inform the novel?
Gerry is based on my biological father, whom I didn’t really know growing up, so I made up a lot of stories about who he was. As an adult, I did an Ancestry DNA test and found out I had several half siblings. My father wasn’t a good person, but talking with my siblings helped me understand what a basket case he was and why. That shaped how I wrote Gerry: as a daughter trying to look at her father with, hopefully, a more charitable lens. The character became a mix of childhood imagination, terrible truths, and a desire to write an antihero who’s vulnerable enough to be complex, and even a little likable, rather than just a jerk.
Which was more difficult, developing a dark comedic voice or sustaining narrative tension?
The challenge was knowing when to dial back the humor so it didn’t undercut the tension. I had to make sure the humor served the story rather than overpowering it, and that it fit each character. Father Dan—the Catholic priest who ends up witnessing Gerry’s murder—naturally allows for more humor. Dan is lovably goofy, while Gerry is serious, and the humor there is driven by his machismo. With Gerry’s daughter Early, the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree; like Gerry, her humor comes from her worldview.
Does the Midwest’s understatement, politeness, and restraint make it especially apt for comedy?
The Midwest lends itself especially well to satire and irony—subtle forms of humor. Midwesterners are funnier than people give them credit for, with a deadpan quality that I really enjoy and find rich for comedy.
Did any of your characters’ actions or decisions surprise you?
They did. Following characters through the weird turns of a narrative is less about what you want to make them do and more about what they’re going to do, which always makes for a better story.
