Barry Eisenberg

Barry Eisenberg is the author of Primal Calling, his debut novel. His writing has appeared in the New York Times, among others. An associate professor of health care management in the School for Graduate Studies at the State University of New York Empire State College, he is also a health care management consultant and a former hospital administrator. An avid bicycle rider, Eisenberg lives in New Jersey with his wife, Amy.

Instagram: @BarryEisenbergAuthor

Favorite non-reading activity?

My favorite non-reading, non-work interest, hands-down, is bicycling. I have been riding with a group of close friends for almost thirty years. We typically ride at least one day of the weekend. Once a year, we take a long weekend biking vacation. One year, we took a self-guided tour through Vermont. The map was a little confusing and as we approached a steep downhill, one of my friends shouted that it was not the right direction. Unfortunately, he did so as most of us had already begun our descent. There was no way to turn back as we were already zipping down at over 40 miles per hour. It was exhilarating whizzing down at that speed, taking under a minute to go the half mile down. Going back up was another story; it was the most challenging experience I ever had on a bike. I focused on looking only a few feet in front of bike so I wouldn’t see how far I had left to climb. It took about 10 long minutes to get to the top, huffing and puffing, straining all the way. When we reassembled and looked down, it seemed way more terrifying than it had when we assumed it was part of the tour. For me, biking is a wonderful combination of peacefulness and exercise, so I also enjoy going for solo rides. I love riding through farmland, especially passing areas with cows and horses. It feels fresh and invigorating and at the same time, almost meditative.

Vacation druthers… City or Rural destination? Why?

I welcome almost any kind of vacation, but one in particular will always be closest to me. My wife, Amy, and I met in our senior year of college. After dating for about a year and a half, we bought a tent, some sleeping bags, and a Coleman lantern and traveled across America. It was a spectacular trip, learning about the country and one another. When we got to California, we decided we “needed” a dog, and that minute was not soon enough. We looked up Golden Retriever puppies for sale in the classified section of the Los Angeles Times and found one listing for one pup, the last of the litter. We called, and three hours later, an adorable 8-week old puppy, whom we named Ryan, became our constant companion. In the middle of the first night with him, I was awakened in the tent by a strange sensation of dampness, then moisture, then complete soaking wetness. For those first few groggy seconds, I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then, Ryan’s smiling face, an inch away from mine, his tail wagging, clued me in. Yes, the tent floor, and my sleeping bag, were saturated with puppy pee. Lots of scrubbing, cleaning, and searching for a laundromat occupied most of the next day. Ryan got the hang of things after that; he was so eager to learn and be involved in everything we did, even sitting patiently for two hours on the side of a hill at an outdoor live presentation of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown" in Kanab, Utah! Having grown up living in an apartment building in Queens, NY, being in open air, under a star-filled sky, was not a big part of my experience. From the outset of that trip, Amy and I had kept individual journals, writing privately each night, committing to share only after the trip was over. One entry was a poem I wrote in a campground in Indiana. We were camped beside a lake, and I was taken by the serenity. A year later, as we planned to get married, we revisited the poem. After some editing, Amy put the poem to music, and the song became our wedding vows.

Have you ever experienced Imposter Syndrome?

Of course, I identify with Imposter Syndrome! My entire career has been in health care, for many years as a hospital administrator and for the past several years as a health care consultant as well as associate professor of healthcare management for the State University of New York. I have written extensively, and until now my published work has been on health policy, managing health care organizations, and the future of higher education. Writing fiction has always been a creative interest that I’ve practiced privately, with poetry and prose stashed away in a drawer. When I decided to write a novel, it was with the intention of writing just for the exercise and the personal challenge of doing it. When I subsequently was encouraged to seek publication, I felt anxious to be treading in territory outside my comfort zone. To compensate for my lack of confidence, I may have exercised a bit of overkill with sharing the manuscript. I asked multiple book clubs, colleagues, relatives, and friends to read it. I fretted over potential reactions. Would they like it? Would they see value in investing their time reading it? Would it hold their interest? Was there a character or two to whom they could relate? The first person who responded said she was so taken by a character’s struggle that she cried at a certain point. Seriously? Really? The second said he became so involved with the characters and asked if any of their names, especially those from other countries, had special meaning. (They do.) Another said she found the story very moving and that she had a relative who went through an experience similar to that of the main character. I had been girding myself for comments like, “What made you think you could write a novel?” and was caught off guard by the consistently positive feedback, helping to neutralize Imposter Syndrome. But not erase it entirely. I have gotten pretty skilled at second guessing myself. And I’ve discovered that a little Imposter Syndrome helps keep me motivated to take nothing for granted.

What’s your favorite comic strip or graphic novel?

When I was a kid, around 7 or 8 years old, I loved Superman comic books. I couldn’t wait to get new ones. One day, my dad casually mentioned that his good friend, Bernie, whom he had known from childhood, was an artist for the Superman comic books. Could this be? My father knew someone who actually drew Superman? For real? This was astounding news. The next time Bernie visited, my father told him how excited I was to learn what he did for a living. I was mesmerized as he explained the process to me, that the writers sketch out the basic story line with ideas for what each box should contain. Then a team of artists draws outlines of the characters; some artists specialize in one or two characters; other artists concentrate on other characters. Colorists fill in the outline. He explained that although his primary role was to sketch out Superman (wow!), it was important for him to know how to do the other steps as well. I took in every word, spellbound. He then took out a piece of paper and a pen and, right before my eyes, drew a picture of Superman leaping off a building! He then presented it to me! I was speechless. Unfortunately, I no longer have that sketch, but I will never forget how thrilled I felt receiving it. And to this day, Superman comic books hold a special place in my heart

Is there a work of art that you love? Why? Have you ever visited it in person?

My father-in-law, Joe Fishman, was a mechanic who serviced printing presses by trade and dabbled in art as a hobby. When my wife and I moved into our first house, he gave us a painting that he had made when he himself was a young father. My wife grew up loving that painting and was so grateful to now have it in our new home. He explained that it was an imitation of one of four Van Gogh oil paintings of Langlois Bridge at Arles. He had signed it “Vincent,” in the same corner and with the same printing as the original, and he referred to it as his “Van Joe.” It hangs in our home in a prominent place in our living room. Last year, my wife and I were both invited to present papers at a professional conference in Brighton, England. Thrilled at the opportunity to visit Europe, we also planned an extra few days in Amsterdam. There, we toured some of the local sights, tasted the most delicious caramel-filled wafers called stroopwafels, and visited a few of the many museums. On the second floor of one of those museums, hanging in a corner of one of the large rooms, was the original Langlois Bridge at Arles! My wife and I were so excited that we forgot their strict “no photos” rule and took out our cell phones for selfies in front of the painting. Seemingly from out of nowhere, a security guard instantaneously swooped in, sternly reminding us of the rules. I tried to explain the personal significance the painting, but she wasn’t having any of it. We wandered away from that corner, but as soon as she was out of sight, we quickly tried again, this time succeeding. Sadly, my father-in-law, aka Vincent Van Joe, passed away this past June at 96 years old. It is gratifying that we were able to share with him the story of our Amsterdam photo exploits and how appreciative we were to have this bit of his legacy in our home.