Celina Baljeet Basra Interview, plus links to author biography, book summaries, excerpts and reviews

An interview with Celina Baljeet Basra

"I am a gulmohar tree, in full bloom: A Conversation with Celina Baljeet Basra about Happy"— Curated by author Tiffany Troy for the Tupelo Quarterly.

Tiffany Troy: I am so curious about the novel's title, Happy, and the choice of the character's name as Happy Singh. The name "Happy" is common as a nickname and so is the last name "Singh." Why did you create the persona of "Happy"? What joy and surprises do you believe this character brings to the readership?

Celina Baljeet Basra: Happy was always going to be Happy––ever since I thought about this novel for the very first time––about twenty years ago––I stuck with the title. Happy's reality, of course, for a large part of the novel, is anything but happy, even if he does try to find joy in it all. The dissonance between the title and the narrative lies at the heart of the novel, and this is amplified by Alex Merto's genius cover: a smile so wide it almost hurts.

TT: I too adore the genius cover because the yellow really conveys that smiley face giddiness that is betrayed when you flip the cover to its back. Can you talk to us about the process of putting together the collection of short stories that incorporate a myriad of forms, from "group text messages" to "interviews," and in thinking about rewriting European myths–and maybe White capitalism–by extension, in a Punjabi context?

CBB: To me, the story of Happy could only be told in a scattered way. Avoiding linearity in the narrative meant rejecting the claim of absolute truth. It also left some air in between the vignettes for the reader to make up their own mind, draw the lines in between, if they should be inclined to do so.

Western history and (selective) storytelling claim exactly that: to be true. Happy is a professional googler and alternative myths-maker. He creates and reclaims his own stories, thoroughly researched and freely fabulated, to make sense of the world. And even if his perspective is Punjabi, I thought of his approach as something universal.

Variations and iterations, alterations and retellings, corrections, failures, seemingly silly excursions, omissions, silencing and erasures—all of this makes up knowledge production, our collective futures and histories.

Also, creating the imaginary HR manager Europe was just lots of fun.

TT: Speaking of Happy's making and reclaiming of myths, can you speak of your process of creating Happy's voice? To me, his voice is oftentimes humorous, sometimes unbeknownst to Happy, and other times obvious to him.

CBB: The character of Happy has been percolating for quite some time—many years in fact—, before I was able to fully tap into his voice. When I finally did, I was basically swept away by it, fully immersed in his inner world, logic and dreams.

I found his voice through the prologue: the letter of application to be a shepherd of pecore nere in Sardinia—animals who refuse to be shepherded. His voice evolved organically from there.

TT: Wow! I am so impressed by how you are able to sustain Happy's voice throughout Happy. I am also curious about defying the idea of a linear narrative or arc. How did you go about sequencing the different pieces within the novel?

CBB: All these vignettes work together in creating Happy—to me, they mirror a fragmented, polyphonic lived experience more than a linear arc could. It was liberating to realize that this was how I could write the novel. It's written to a rhythm rather than a plot (I'm a fan of Woolf's The Waves, which she claims to have written that way). Writing, composing, sequencing the vignettes was a beautiful and intense process. My editor Deborah Ghim was the perfect shepherdess for the novel, and a wonderful conversation partner for the precision tuning.

TT: For budding novelists who want to attempt the feat of writing to a rhythm in the voice of a character that is emerging through their dreams and desires, what are some tips? How does it work? I, for one, noticed the short lines, and the often surprising revelations in the "turns," so to speak, and the contrast with the longer (but less frequent lines).

CBB: I am not sure I can explain how it worked. I had to catch myself out. I had to write quickly enough to trick myself into forgetting myself and any imagined audience entirely.

I wrote a vignette on my phone while walking around with my daughter in a carrier in heavy snow, some on a balcony in Rome (a luxury!), others at 5 am in the kitchen in the depth of Berlin winter. I think all of this ultimately helped: the constriction of time, the very real challenges of building a life while worldmaking etc.

Toni Morrisson wrote in her car while sitting in New York traffic. Maybe my advice is this: to give up on some preconceived idea of what your writing process and space could and should look like; it will change your novel, too. Of course, all of that free your mind, and the rest will follow (En Vogue) was before the peculiar and anxiety-inducing stage of actually having to share this book with the world...

TT: And what of the precision-tuning process of revision, which is always so difficult! How did it happen for you?

CBB: If the novel were a room, I left the house and took a scenic route, got lost in the surroundings, looked at it from all angles, only to collapse at the doorstep again, arriving at the exact initial structure—with a better understanding of the room, pacing and perspective.

TT: Could you speak about sequencing the vignettes within Happy? Happy welcomes many voices and perspectives and the protagonist metamorphoses in the novel and he also travels widely.

CBB: We did change the sequencing within the different parts; cut some vignettes, wrote new ones, cut some more—winding it tighter. I did shuffle and rearrange in print, too!

TT: In your interview with Worm Hole Podcast, you said that "even though the underlying facts [in Happy] might be very dark, it was important to find a balance with the light and the joy." How do you build humor in the collection?

There is definitely a sense of hyperbole in the contrast between flying in Qatar and whatever means is deemed fit for travel. Then there are Punjabi traditions like the customary-cake-in-the-mouth shove that is very physical and endearing at the same time.

CBB: I think I never consciously built the humor, it emerged and evolved with Happy's voice. It wasn't my intention to make it easier or lighten the load for the reader, or for myself, for that matter. It's rather a portrayal of a psyche that seeks the light whenever it can.

Yes, the cake! There's gotta be the mouth shove.

TT: Earlier during this interview, you spoke of how while Happy's perspective is Punjabi, his approach is universal. Who are some of the writers who have influenced you in the writing of Happy?

CBB: When I, aged sixteen, picked up a copy of Zadie Smith's ever so brilliant White Teeth in a bookstore in Cambridge, I realized that the stories I wanted to write could be written. This is when I started my first draft of Happy––the following years saw a lot of beginnings, sometimes an ending, never a middle. Smith's The Embassy of Cambodia is dear to me, too, as is her short story Lazy River, which I discovered when I had just finished the first draft of the novel. Toba Tek Singh by Saadat Hasan Manto is a highly recommended read––he's writing about a time during Partition when the governments of Pakistan and India decided to exchange all 'lunatics'. I'm returning to Le Guin's Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction again and again, and Perec's Species of Spaces, too. I read Olga Tokarzcuk's magnificent Flights only after I had finished the editing process for Happy––what does it mean to be a traveler?––I'd now recommend it to anyone who embarks on writing a novel in fragments.

Like Happy, I was enamored with a piece of French culture when I was a kid: Sagan's Bonjour Tristesse, which I stumbled across by accident in my German grandmother's attic, and became obsessed with. I so wanted to be like boyish, cool Cécile, consisting of black coffee and oranges and kisses; this couldn't have been further from reality. When you don't grow up with big bookshelves at home, the public library and whatever falls into your lap are the food for your imagination––an odd mix of accidental influences.

TT: An odd mix of accidental influences sounds just right, and yet it is precisely this odd mix that creates this unique vantage point that is so fresh and refreshing. Turning to the backdrop of Happy, there are urbanization, immigration, and the realities of Punjabi farming, and political riots in Italy, which create a sense of layering for the novel. Are you, like Happy, a professional Googler? What role does imagination play in the decades-long research process?

CBB: In the past 20 years, I studied art history and worked in the arts in Berlin, with small stints in Delhi, Kochi, and Shanghai. So libraries and art spaces are where my research naturally happened—and, yes, I am a professional Googler, too.

I remember, when I was working on my Master's thesis on Alighiero é Boetti's One Hotel at the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin, I kept going back to a holograph draft of Woolf's The Waves, and began sketching out an earlier version of Happy—far more elegiac, written from the perspective of a relative, not Happy himself. Or, when I was still small, three or four years old, watching an Indian movie featuring young Amitabh Bachchan, who hit an instrument so hard his hands started to bleed. The female lead wrapped his wound in white cloth and held his hand—the climax of an intense dance scene. I tried to copy the moves and put bangles around my ears to adorn myself like her. Next on TV, Bud Spencer and Terrence Hill...

All of these moments are part of the book, even if they never made it into the final draft. Over the years, my partner used to joke whenever I commented on a topic, 'Oh, yeah, coincidentally that's going to be part of Happy, too'––'Celina, everything seems to be part of this book.' And it's true. Happy is an avid collector of things. Everythings.

The topics of Happy are based on personal and family experience, current politics, as well as research of many years––one example is the story of Suleiman Diara and his cooperative of Malinese farmers in Italy, which I came across when I tried their yogurt at a market in Rome. They left exploitative working conditions to start their own thing. A rare occurrence––I don't want to call it a happy ending, but it still gives me hope.

TT: I so appreciate you sharing the behind-the-scenes in the creation of Happy. Finally, do you have any closing thoughts to your readers of the world?

CBB: I'm trying not to do this thing I tend to do in life, when I apologize in advance for any inconvenience or misunderstanding that might arise, but to just wish them safe travels––wherever they might be headed. I hope you reach your destination without losing your bag, or your mind. And if you do, I hope you may find it again.



 

Unless otherwise stated, this interview was conducted at the time the book was first published, and is reproduced with permission of the publisher. This interview may not be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the copyright holder.