05/16/09
Text: Scott Indrisek
Eric Bogosian is a true New York Renaissance man. As a playwright and performer (Talk Radio, subUrbia) and a novelist (Wasted Beauty), he’s renowned for putting his gritty finger on the pulse. (Still drawing a blank? You—and your mom—will doubtlessly also recognize him for his role as Captain Danny Ross on Law & Order: Criminal Intent.) Bogosian’s latest novel, Perforated Heart, tackles a familiar character—the aging, egotistical, sexually voracious writer in New York—and alternates between the late 70s and the present day. We spoke with Bogosian via email about muggings, Philip Roth, and how sex is great exercise.
Your story alternates between '76-77 and '06-07—a time period in which New York City changed to an astounding degree. What do you miss most about the 'old' New York?
There was a sense of mystery to the New York of the mid-seventies. Many neighborhoods in Manhattan had amazing personalities, but were rarely visited by outsiders. The West Village gay scene, the Soho art scene, the Latino/beatnik East Village and the near empty Tribeca/Wall Street nightstreets, Times Square—all held the promise of the unknown. There was also danger. Getting mugged was very scary, I know this from experience. But the energy of the danger permeated everything, made living in NYC serious business and fused the community.
I am happier that the city is a safer and cleaner place now. And that's because I love NYC. New York doesn't have to be dangerous to have personality. But we have traded the unknown for the too well known. Much of midtown and southwards looks more like mall culture than city culture. For that you have to hit the deepest parts of the Lower East Side and Brooklyn. There is still plenty of unknown in NYC, but for the unknown art scene, theater scene, music scene—you have to head over the bridges. Or at least east of Third Ave.
The arts thrive when the city attracts newcomers. We had very cheap rents in the 70's to draw us in. Rent is still a major problem for the newcomers. But as long as there are young artists, they will come to NYC (and Amsterdam and San Francisco and Paris and Berlin and Rome and Shanghai.)
Your narrator, Richard Morris, has quite an over-sized ego—especially his younger self. Do you think such an inflated sense of importance is just part of being a "great man" or a "great artist"?
It takes a certain amount of self-involvement to be an artist. This may be the result of an isolated childhood, or too much attention, or who knows what. If the artist becomes successful in the greater world, then this self-involvement is only encouraged. Is it necessary? No. The need to make the art is just as necessary. Writing or making art is about soul survival as much as anything.
The '70s sections of Perforated Heart are ripe with the sort of lusty, promiscuous adventures one might expect in pre-AIDS New York. What do you miss most about those days—when sex seemed everyone's for the taking, without much risk?
For both the gay and straight worlds, the era of 1972 to 1980 was pretty great sex-wise. If you didn't want to make too big a deal of getting together with someone, the Pill was a wonderful thing. In those days I liked being able to simply get physical with someone without a lot of muss and bother. But the aftermath was terrible. Nonetheless, I'm glad I got to know so many people physically. I wish it were always that way. Sex is fun and it feels good too. Plus it's great exercise!
Was the character of Morris modeled on any particular male novelists--or a combination of actual novelists?
I tagged Philip Roth a number of times while creating this character. Aspects of Roth's life create a kind of scaffolding for the story. Richard Morris lives in Connecticut and New York City, as does Roth. He is single, is Jewish, has "issues" with is father, loves/hates women. But the character is not based on Roth, because Roth is much more successful than Morris. And the story itself has nothing to do with Roth's life. Ultimately, Morris is a composite of most successful writers: he is not successful enough, as far as he is concerned.
Morris' artistic trajectory is based, to a large degree, on luck. He's discovered and becomes a literary star at a young age...then falls out of favor later in his career...and then returns to the spotlight thanks to a late-in-the-day positive review. His stardom seems to wax and wane, somewhat arbitrarily. So my question is: what's the luckiest thing that ever happened to Eric Bogosian?
The luckiest thing that ever happened to me was meeting my wife, Jo Bonney. She changed my life. I don't know where I'd be if we hadn't met. We met in the summer of 1980 and were married two months later. She directed my work for a number of years and has always been there for me as an intelligent partner. And we have been very lucky to have two wonderful children together.
Your question is about career. Without Jo, I would have no career. But there have also been a few "big breaks." Probably the biggest was meeting Joseph Papp. Joe in turn led me to Ed Pressman who in turn led me to Oliver Stone, leading to the film Talk Radio. That effort has had a tremendous effect on my life in terms of career.
I also ended up at The Kitchen when I dropped out of the theater scene. This was a big break. Around that scene, I met the amazing visual artists like Robert Longo, Cindy Sherman and Michael Zwack, who shaped my attitude in the late Seventies.
Every artist has his ups and down and lucky breaks and bad breaks. I've had my share of bad as well. But there's no reason to dwell. I'm glad I get to work.
Perforated Heart is out now from Simon & Schuster. Buy it here.
