LJ Talks to Alan Burdick

Andrew Richard Albanese -- Library Journal, 11/22/2005

It's been quite a ride for Alan Burdick, a senior editor at Discover magazine, and author of critically acclaimed Out of Eden: An Odyssey of Ecological Invasion, his first book. Ten years in the writing, which included a fascinating journey that took him around the globe, from the Hawaiian islands to a harrowing stint at sea on an oil tanker to study ballast water, Burdick's effort was rewarded by being named a finalist for the National Book Award, in nonfiction, awarded last week in New York. What was it like for Burdick, a first time author to share the stage with such literary luminaries? LJ's Andrew Richard Albanese, a friend of Burdick's, talked to him about his book, his future, and of course, a very special honor.

Congratulations on your being named a finalist. Panel chair Brenda Wineapple noted the strength of this year's nominees, and that 542 books were nominated in nonfiction, the most ever. What was it like for you, a first time author to be among the top five?

It's been a thrill, and of course an honor. It felt a bit like that scene early on in "The Truman Show," where Truman is standing on the beach at night and suddenly a little rain shower opens up directly above him and follows him around wherever he moves: somehow you've been singled out, but you don't dare take it seriously. The judges had a lot of books—and many terrific books—to read in too short a period of time, and the selection process is inherently subjective; books are individual and read by individuals. So although my ego would like to think that my book is special, I know that luck played a role; a different judge or a different day might well have produced a different finalist.

Any special memories of the NBA experience you'd like to share? Did you interact much with the other finalists?

Tuesday evening, the night of the finalists' readings, was the most memorable night for me. I was seated in the front row between John Ashbery and Frank Bidart, two poets whose work I greatly admire. That was pretty humbling, but it also helped to ground me in the moment and remind me what this endeavor is all about—I mean, these are people who care deeply about word choice and the craft of writing, beyond any commercial concern. Meanwhile, there's the great E.L. Doctorow on stage, and William Vollman, and Mary Gaitskill. I was definitely nervous. You ask yourself, 'Do I really belong here?' but then figure, 'Who cares, I'm just going to have fun and read my little reading.' The awards dinner was great too, of course, but it was gravy compared to Tuesday.

You worked on this book for 10 years. What was it like to invest so much in writing this book, and then to be rewarded with being named a finalist?

After about the fifth year in, the book became sort of like wallpaper: Something I lived with, that was so much the private background of my days that I started to forget that it was something that I would actually finish, and eventually make public. So when it ended, I was a little surprised—and doubly so when it was named a finalist for the National Book Award. I mean, who knew that anyone was reading it, much less the NBA mucketymucks? But it was a real validation. My hope for the book was always that it would be read as general nonfiction, rather than as a genre work such as "science writing" or "nature writing" or whatever. That distinction probably doesn't mean anything to anyone besides me, but the nomination did help ease my own insecurities about being categorized.

Garrison Keillor, Lawrence Ferlighetti and Norman Mailer seemed to lament the changing of book culture in their remarks. Being a young, first-time author, could you relate to their comments?

Sure. Even in the decade since I started the book, the industry has changed enormously, such that it's much tougher for midlist authors like me to get attention and stay afloat. And the Internet is changing everything, in ways that book publishing has hardly begun to grasp; I figure I've got another ten, maybe fifteen years to produce two to four more books and make a name for myself as an author, before the publishing paradigm shifts drastically. That said, I don't think good literature is about to disappear. The supply of, and thirst for, good storytelling has been around for a few thousand years; it's one of humankind's few reliable traits. The question is what physical form it will take, and who will profit from it. In the meantime, if Google wants me as a private content provider, my lunch schedule is pretty open.

I checked out your website and you seem poised to do some innovative things, such as podcasts. What kind of potential for your work do you see in the web?

With all the web sites and blogs now out there, the Internet has certainly proved itself as a community meeting-place for book readers. And it opens up opportunities for authors to have a more direct and immediate relationship with their readership. That's personally exciting; having an omnipresent audience can almost make it feel like you're writing for the stage instead of in this quiet, exclusive format called a book. And it opens up new marketing possibilities, if only publishers could figure out how to get on board. I'm eager to podcast; I actually wrote my book with the idea that it would be read aloud, but since the audiotape folks haven't knocked down my door yet, I can take matters into my own hands. But for all the Internet's virtues, it has its limits. A book is the product of one individual's voice, and there comes a time when, in order to hear that voice, a writer has to turn off all the others, leave the community for awhile, and seek out something new.

What's next for Alan Burdick?

I'm not sure yet. I have several ideas for the next book, but I haven't yet recovered the energy to start any of them. So I'm working on essays and short magazine articles—little writing snacks, to work up my appetite for the next whale hunt.