Animals and Monologue: A Conversation with Henry Hoke

1 Aug

“if I was afraid of being judged I’d never accomplish anything”

First, your book is incredibly unique – what was your initial inspiration? Did the character or the concept come first?

In order to condense my prolonged encounter with Los Angeles in the 2010s into book form once I’d moved back to the East Coast, I needed some constraint, an exacting way in. I was inspired by the real-life mountain lion P-22, and a fleeting lyric from Nick Cave’s ‘Hollywood,’ to dive into the animal monologue for the entire duration of a story. This character POV became the whole concept, the engine that drove me.

Was your process of characterisation the same when writing this book as your other novels? How did you approach the experience of getting into the mindset of a mountain lion?

It was much more organic than in my other books: singular and immersive. I meditated, turned on the album ‘Wander/Wonder’ by Balam Acab, envisioned myself in a cave in Griffith Park, accessed my hunger and bloodthirst, and let the lion mindset flow out on the page, unpunctuated.

Were you ever concerned about your book being judged as being juvenile because of the narrator? And why do you think there are so few adult books that write from the perspective of an animal?

I think if I was afraid of being judged I’d never accomplish anything. I love juvenile shit. I love children’s books. They tend to get right to the point. I haven’t read any adult books entirely from the perspective of an animal, and avoided them entirely once I started writing, so I could keep mine fresh. There’s a lot of pressure in the art world to appear as a grown-up, but I find it impossible.

What is the significance of observing humanity from the perspective of an outsider in Open Throat?

It helped me root the work in my own voice, as that’s how I always feel, not only as a writer but also as a queer person and a person who struggles with an often debilitating, isolating panic disorder. Everything that emerged from that distance and yearning, I think, became more and more universal as I exorcised it onto the page, at the dawn of the pandemic.

Reading Open Throat, many readers will find themselves relating to the narrator even more than the humans they’re trying to understand. What effect do you think that will have in terms of what readers will take away from your book?

I wanted this warped perspective to be a sharp mirror shard reflecting our moment. I hope it helps people access the animal need inside themselves, to recognize that need in others, and to see how much our rotten systems deny us. Perhaps we can pivot toward caring, toward collaboration, and hell, toward collective anger and reparation.

Open Throat is both funny and poignant – what was your approach to balancing the humour and pathos?

I think the silly and the wounded elements of this conceit ran parallel throughout, just in me allowing the big cat’s observations to emerge and the plot to unfold. The inherent comedy of a mountain lion voice was never far from precarity, from the tragic reality of an animal life encroached on by urbanity.

What other authors have inspired your writing?

So many, but in this case the ferocity and directness were chiefly inspired by the authors Susan Steinberg and Katherine Faw. Their books and their distinctive styles were humming in my head when I sat down to write Open Throat. I like any authors that are unapologetically themselves, singular, idiosyncratic. Ruling trends be damned.

And lastly, do you judge a book by its cover?

Literally, yes. Metaphorically, never.

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