Amy Bloom’s new novel White Houses – her fourth – is short and yet has the scope and intensity of a saga. It describes the love affair between Eleanor Roosevelt and journalist Lorena Hickok (“Hick”), a relationship that was unrecognised until a recent biography of Eleanor Roosevelt, by Blanche Wiesen Cook, brought it to view.
Bloom, in her mid-60s, is married with three children and has always described herself as bisexual (her non-fiction book Normal looked at attitudes to sex and gender). She worked for 20 years as a psychotherapist and is now a teacher of creative writing at Wesleyan University in Connecticut. She has been nominated for the US national book award and the national book critics’ circle award and feted by fellow American and literary heavyweight Harold Bloom who claims her as an honorary cousin (they are not related).
How important was Blanche Wiesen Cook’s biography of Eleanor Roosevelt as a starting point?
I had been reading several Roosevelt biographies researching Lucky Us [her last novel, set in 1940s America]. But this made me think: what would it have been like to admire the president of the United States with your whole heart and be madly in love with his wife? And once I got to see the love letters between Eleanor and Lorena, I was off to the races.
What was the experience of reading the letters like?
It was wonderful and out of body because you are in the Roosevelt library and there are people sitting next to you with white cotton gloves on and there were 3,000 letters. The peak of the affair was 1932 to 1936. Certain letters are always quoted to reveal the nature of their relationship. In one, Eleanor writes to “Hick”: “I long to kiss you on the south-east corner of your lips and lie beside you all night.” This – clearly – is not a letter between pals. And in fact Lorena, who was always concerned about Eleanor’s reputation, burned a couple of hundred letters before she made her donation to the Roosevelt library.
Was Lorena more concerned about Eleanor’s reputation than Eleanor was herself?
Absolutely. Eleanor had been in the public light for a long time and experienced a high level of vitriolic commentary about her appearance, politics, parenting. Nothing was off limits. There were “I Hate Eleanor” clubs in the south.
What responsibility is involved in writing fiction about people who once lived?
In all fiction, there are elements of people who lived. You might, say, take your sister’s sense of humour – you steal from the living and the dead. It’s legitimate to use any figure as a leaping-off point but my interest was to work from known facts – I did not make Eleanor Roosevelt into a leggy blond showgirl.
I was moved by the description of love in middle age – was that part of the story’s appeal?
It was – the idea you might see beauty where there is no apparent beauty. But I did struggle. They were not beautiful. I had to think about what it is like to see each other and know that the way you gaze upon each other is not the gaze the world delivers and to be grown up enough not to confuse the two.
You write: “We play with fire and tell ourselves we are just lighting a modest, necessary candle.” Has this been true for you?
If you’re lucky and fall hard for the right person, you’re going to set a fire somewhere and if it is the right person, at the right time and in the right place – that is a gift from the universe.
Did being a psychotherapist give you any insight you would not otherwise have had?
I believe that if you are the kind of person who wants people to tell you how things are for them, they will tell you, regardless of your occupation. Ask any hairdresser.
Does being Jewish feed the writing?
Several things shape my writing. First, I can’t imagine not being a woman. Second, being a mother has been part of my entire adult life. My first child was my stepson. I was 21 and he was 10. I was not a distant figure in his life. I was taking him to the dentist, the paediatrician, parent/teacher conferences. Those were my jobs – including the nightmares at night. I feel that shaped me. Being a Jew? Absolutely. In each of my novels, there is always at least one joke from the heyday of Jewish vaudeville.
What sacrifices are involved in the writing life?
It’s hard to be a writer. It’s really hard to be a good writer. Even being a crappy writer is hard. For me, having my kids was a great thing. Being a writer is a tremendous privilege but does not always go smoothly – we all spend a lot of time grousing and staring out the window.
And there is the possibility that what you write will not be what you intended.
I would describe that as an inevitability. It’s like ice-skating. You cannot skate without falling down.
Does anyone stay in love in life?
If you’re lucky in a long relationship, it comes and goes. And it comes more often than it goes. It’s wise to marry people for their faults, not despite them. You have to choose what is wrong with them. Everyone has something wrong. I have a fearless and bullheaded husband and I chose that because I did not want the partner to whom one has to say [lowers her voice]: “It’s OK, let’s cross the street, the lights are with us.”
What books do you have on your bedside table?
A Bargain for Frances by Russell and Lillian Hoban, Poems New and Collected by Wisława Szymborska, On the Edge by Edward St Aubyn and Fifteen Dogs by André Alexis. Also, three pens, two blank index cards, a lip balm (caramel) a pink butterfly barrette (not mine) and a scrap of paper with the word “dry” on it.
What was the last really great book you read?
Life After Life by Kate Atkinson knocked me sideways. There are other contenders, of course, but that one comes up first, for me. (I am so far behind, I’m embarrassed.)
Which writers working today do you admire the most?
Nonfiction: Anne Fadiman (The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down), Annette Gordon-Reed (The Hemingses of Monticello), Adrian Nicole LeBlanc (Random Family). The why for each is in the particular book I selected. Novelists: Kate Atkinson, Junot Díaz, Val McDermid, Michael Cunningham – all for essentially the same reasons: storytelling, voice, clarity, nuanced observation and a sense of humour, whether up top or concealed in the weeds.
What do you plan to read next?
The thought of what to read next is daunting. I am so far behind in contemporary fiction but my best guess is: Property by Lionel Shriver and A View of the Empire at Sunset by Caryl Phillips.
What other than your own novels would you most like to have written?
Poetry – I’ve no ability to write it. Happiness by Jane Kenyon. And a poem about love by Jane Hirshfield, Each Moment a White Bull Steps Shining Into the World. I’d love to have written either of those.
White Houses by Amy Bloom is published by Granta (£12.99). To order a copy for £11.04 go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99
