
Short-story madman George Saunders, who has drawn comparisons to Mark Twain and has been hailed as his generation's Kurt Vonnegut, has been frequenting Chicago in the past few months to help develop the first stage adaptation of his work in his hometown. The Oak Forest native has reached that rare literary celebrity of doing the talk show circuit (Letterman and The Colbert Report) for his literary merit and social commentary, not some stupid media-made controversy. More rare than talk show appearances, however, is the esteem Saunders gets from his 'literary ' peers.
Saunders is an original. He studied engineering, worked as a technical writer and geophysical engineer, and currently teaches at Syracuse University. At some point, in pursuit of the literary life, Saunders followed a "downward spiraling" career path as a roofer, a convenience store clerk and a knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse. Something must've clicked in that morass of meat and cartilage, however: he's published three short-story collections, a short novel, two collections of essays, an award-winning children's book and has won awards varying from the National Magazine Award for Fiction to very serious honors from the Harvard Lampoon.
Opening Thursday, October 30 running until December 14 Collaboraction Theatre Company presents the world premiere of Jon (originally published 2003 in the New Yorker), You could call Jon the typical coming-of-age love and sex story except Saunders wrote it so it takes place in a marketing laboratory/home where the teenage demographic subjects--and trading card icons--have lived since infancy. The only cultural references Jon and his ad-saturated brethren have is through the commercials they have been subjected to learn and the products they have been groomed to assess. When Jon's lover wants out, Jon has the truest test of love: can he sacrifice his designer comforts for the deprived and lonely world of anonymity outside the "much coveted window seat"? What is most curious about this adaptation is how Saunders and director/adaptor Seth Bockley will be able to recreate this otherworld within Jon's limited language, which is framed by advertising cliches and platitudes. Ever since I witnessed a student adaptation of Vonnegut's Welcome to the Monkey House, my cynicism to theater's ability to recreate unknown worlds has been checked.
Saunders was able to take three Chicago questions from Examiner in advance of the opening of Jon.
DUFFER: You told a quintessential Chicago tale on your Letterman appearance last year, about your first Bears' game at Wrigley and that classic Chicago transgression of sport trumping sin. What's your recurring first impression whenever you come back to Chicago?
SAUNDERS: Intense nostalgia. Also, I regret that, on that Letterman show, I said "Soldier's Field" instead of Soldier Field. I will live forever in infamy for that one. It's like saying "Kaminsky Park" or "White Palace" hamburgers.
RD: Since Little Richard Daley took the throne of the City, the number of taverns in the city has been cut by nearly two-thirds. Meanwhile, property values have risen. And there were cows on parade. What about Chicago strikes you as particularly stupid i.e. part of that mass culture intimidation that informs much of your writing?
GS: Actually that all seems pretty good, and is perhaps even a template for the nation: cut taverns, increase the number of cows, and property values will go up. Imagine how prosperous we'd be if we reinstituted Prohibition and let cows wander through all our major cities. Of course, there'd be so much cow poop, everyone would need a good stiff drink.
RD: In the Publishing course that I co-teach, we read your "A Remembrance" from Quarterly West to cap off the semester. The pleasure, or relief, of being published in Quarterly West meant to you " that to somebody out there, I was making sense." That's why we publish. But why write? Initially?
GS: I think mostly it's the thrill of doing the thing you are best at...the comfort when your skill set meets the task. Probably the same answer as you'd get to "Why sing?" or "Why play baseball?" - essentially, it feels good and makes me feel more like myself than just about anything else.