Bright Lines

Author Q&A

What was it like writing your first novel?
 
I started and restarted Bright Lines for a few years, taking the time to explore my voice and the characters in the novel in different short stories. What started off as explorations in Brooklyn College MFA turned into the first draft of the book the summer of 2008. I was living in the south of France, when I was working as a shawl seller in a luxury hotel. What wrested me out of the stifling boredom of that summer job was diving right into my novel. Being immersed in another language just forced me into solitude. What I realized from writing everyday for the next three months, was that I’d been thinking about this story for years. It was only a matter of time before I wrote it all out.

 
While Bright Lines is told from several characters’ perspectives, Ella seems to be at the heart of the novel. Why did you choose to center the book on her and how did that affect how you wrote her character?
 
Ella is the heart of this story, simply because Ella is at the heart of change. We see Ella’s transformation from lovelorn outsider to a confident, gender nonconforming person in charge of their destiny. I remember being young when my vision started to change, and I need thick glasses. Ella’s hallucinations stem from a deep trauma, the loss of her parents. And while this has stayed with Ella throughout her life, ultimately, as the character experiences huge life transformations, Ella accepts the hallucinations and their shifting gender identity.

 
Bright Lines is incredibly rich in detail, from the history of the Saleem family’s neighborhood in Brooklyn to what life was like in the Bangladeshi countryside for Anwar and Rezwan in the 1970s. Tell us about the research you did to bring these scenes to life. Was there anything you wanted to include in the novel that you had to leave out?
 
Traveling through the countryside in Bangladesh is to see the vast majority of the people and the land outside of landlocked Dhaka – and there are so many stirring visuals I wanted to memorize during my last trip. My research and the rich details mingled together for the scenes in the novel. For example, I interviewed a man who had fought and lived through the Liberation War of 1971, and he described the hot pink sky after tracer bullets exploded. That image stayed with me, and when I went on a road trip through rural Bangladesh, I remember seeing infinite fields of watermelon. In the scene where Anwar and Rezwan (Ella’s father) try to save a group of women who’ve been raped, those details – the sky, the watermelon field – make the scene come alive.
 

Plants and their therapeutic properties feature prominently in the book. Why did you choose to make Anwar an apothecary? And what about the profession led you to produce your own line of botanical products?
 
If you live in New York City, you’ll see that many of the health food stores and groceries, spice shops, Muslim paraphernalia, incense and oils shops are owned and operated by Bangladeshis. It’s specifically the row of shops on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, a small strip, really, that invites the motley characters of the city to purchase these goods for their own brands. I love going into those shops. I’m always looking for the space where the city turns into wilderness, the corner of a park or waterfront where there are no people. Plants have such a healing property to them, and my parents were avid gardeners – I wanted to show how working with plants was something that could allay the residue of trauma.

 
Your love of Brooklyn and the many people and cultures that live there shines in your writing, and in many ways, Brooklyn is as much a character in Bright Lines as any of the people you write about. What is your perspective on recent demographic shifts in the borough? And why did you choose to set the novel in the Brooklyn of the early 2000s?
 
Those years were the life-changers. I moved to New York in the early aughts, and immediately fell into this really vibrant, diverse world with people of different ethnicities genders, sexualities – and I wanted to write about this world. My first evening in my new apartment, a $500/month share with two roommates, was epic. Dave Chappelle threw his legendary Block Party that night. We just don’t see much writing about that side of Brooklyn. Beyond immigrant Brooklyn, but stories about the descendants, stories about the generation of youth born here in the U.S. in the city. Gentrification has continually happened in waves, but at this point, it seems that the city is unlivable and unaffordable for many people who have lived here for a long time.

 
You’ve written articles on feminism, workers’ rights in Bangladesh, and accountability in the fashion industry, and you’ve done extensive nonprofit work with young people of color. How does Bright Lines fit in with your activism?

Bright Lines is borne out of my activism and political philosophy. I’ll always write articles about my basic philosophy in life: I can’t be free unless you are free, too. That’s the heart of feminism, which was my main academic focus and continues to be what I’m interested in writing about. Working with young people in New York City as a community organizer and teaching artist allowed me to work in the outer boroughs of the city – places like Canarsie, the North Bronx – and to work with young people who were imaginative and innovative. They’re so much of the inspiration behind the trio of girls in Bright Lines. They mirrored my own rebellious ways as a teenager in suburban New York.

 
The book deals head-on with some topics that are often taboo in coming-of-age novels, such as sexual feelings directed towards a family member. Did you have any concerns about how readers might react to these scenes?
 
I think my readers are smart and sensitive enough to let a story unfold to see what will happen. The taboo and the misdirected desire stems from a deep repression and loneliness, and as that becomes more and more apparent, I think readers know they must let the character evolve and grow. I want to explore the darker, shadowy side of our nature in my writing, because the process of a character finding their way out of that place is so rewarding.

 
All of the women in your novel are completely and refreshingly different from one another. Are any of them based on real people you know? What was your process for fleshing out these uniquely compelling, multicultural female characters?
 
We all have our own imprint in the world, and all characters have this, no matter what their culture. I wanted to write characters on a continuum of gender, Muslim identity, personality – they all complement each other because they show us a different facet of the same story. The characters are an assemblage of fragments of my personality and the diverse group of people in my life.


Which character did you enjoy writing the most and why? If you were creating a perfume for them, what ingredients would you incorporate?
 
I love Anwar, his voice and the way he sees the world. He’s a good, delightful man who just can’t help but indulge his vices. Like all the characters in the novel, he’s a man who has masculine and feminine sides to his personality, so a perfume would definitely have notes of oud, tobacco, and a touch of champa flower.

 
What’s next for you?
 
I’m working on my new novel, tentatively titled The Rivers, about a couple of virtual reality filmmakers working on a film about the oldest woman on earth. Switching between the present day and 1920s Harlem, they realize there’s a secret in her past that is a gaping hole in their story. When one of the filmmakers is abducted, those secrets are revealed. I’ll also continue to grow my own perfume and candle company, Hi Wildflower, which has allowed me to live the themes in Bright Lines in my real life.