J.F. Riordan
Author photo by Patrick Manning Photography
J.F. Riordan has worked in opera, in the classroom, and in philanthropy, but her first love is writing.
Ms. Riordan has been called “a latter-day Jane Austen”. Her mesmerizing literary fiction makes the Great Lakes region one of the characters in this continuing series. The North of the Tension Line books (North of the Tension Line; The Audacity of Goats; Robert’s Rules; and A Small Earnest Question-due out in Summer 2020) represent a sensibility that is distinctively Midwestern, even though the small town politics and gossip will be universally familiar. Riordan celebrates the well-lived life of the ordinary man and woman with meticulously drawn characters and intriguing plots that magnify the beauty and mystery lingering near the surface of everyday life.
She is also the author of a book of essays, Reflections on a Life in Exile.
She lives in Wisconsin with her husband and three dogs.
Twitter: @audacityofgoats
Instagram: @J.F.Riordan
Do you collect anything? If so, what, why, and for how long?
I have a highly curated collection of dogs, which I have been working on for many years. As is so often true for connoisseurs, it is only finite resources that prevent me from adding to it regularly. The nature of the collection has evolved to suit the place we live: it’s a large wooded property, and there are quite aggressive coyotes, so little dogs are out of the question. We currently have two German Shepherds—one still a puppy—and a fifteen year old Indiana Spotted Dog named Pete. He is the heart of the collection for the moment, but I know that will not be for much longer. Sadly, the content of the collection can change suddenly, and tragically, as happened this past December when we lost our beloved Moses. Despite their heartbreaking inevitabilities, however, they are a particularly rewarding collection, since, unlike fine china or figurines, they never need dusting. They keep me company when I write, and amuse, pester, and distract me the rest of the time. They are also highly useful aids to procrastination, which is essential to the writing process.
Not all books are for all readers… when you start a book and you just don’t like it, how long do you read until you bail?
There are too many great books to bother reading something you don’t enjoy, and not everything is for everybody, so I’m a big believer in tossing a book aside and moving on. There are some books which are an insult to your intelligence, and you can usually tell those immediately. For everything else, I will try for a chapter or so, but if the style is too violent, disgusting, or at all sadistic, I’m out. I can’t pretend that I’m a patient reader.
My dogs can also be highly critical, and, in their youthful enthusiasms, will occasionally shred an author.
I recently read Frances Burney’s Evelina, and found the beginning rather rough going—probably because of the eighteenth century mannered writing style— but I stuck it out and became engrossed in it, while cheerfully—and with no compunction whatever—skipping certain annoying dialogues. There is only one book—years ago—that I can remember literally throwing across the room because it was so badly written, but I can’t remember what it was or why I threw it. I’m pretty sure it was written by a friend, so perhaps that’s for the best.
Is there a genre of music that influences your writing/thinking? Do you listen to music while you write?
My first career was as an opera singer, and music has always been a big part of my life. I grew up in a household where classical music and opera were omnipresent. I will listen to music while I’m plotting, or while walking, to think about the book. In fact, each of my books has had a particular soundtrack I put together to create the proper mood for myself. It’s not always very highbrow. There is no particular style or genre; sometimes I fear my taste is a little bit twelve-year-old girl. But it’s all about creating a mood, and you can’t really choose what strikes your heart. Ultimately, though, my brain naturally goes straight to the music every time, rather than to the words, so when I’m really in the thick of writing, I find music distracting, and have to turn it off. Once I’m finished writing the book, I’m usually finished with the music, too. At least for a while.
A lifetime of learning music and memorizing poetry has had an influence on the way I construct sentences and how the words flow. I feel a very distinct rhythm when I write. I hear the rhythms in my head, and I choose words—and sometimes grammar or syntax—to create those rhythms. Sometimes this annoys proofreaders very much.
Is there a work of art that you love. Why? Have you ever visited it in person?
I discovered rather late in life how much I love art, particularly paintings and sculpture. I had thought I had appreciated it, but it hadn’t truly moved me.
In my upcoming novel, one of the characters talks of the Pennsylvania Railroad World War II memorial, a statue of an angel at Penn Station in Philadelphia. Here’s how he describes it in the book:
“It’s, maybe, three stories tall—maybe not quite—I haven’t seen it in many years, but once you’ve seen it, you never forget it. It’s a black stone sculpture of the Archangel Michael— standing very straight and lifting a fallen soldier out of the flames of war. The soldier hangs lifeless in his arms, his head to one side. The angel’s face is solemn, he has tall straight wings—higher than his head—and they seem to be raised at attention, out of respect…
When I first saw it I wasn’t expecting it; I was young and I’d never heard of it, and seeing it felt like a shock of electricity. It was as if…I don’t know…as if I’d always known it; I recognized it, even though I had never seen it before.”
This passage is based on my own experience. When my husband and I went to Florence for the first time, I wasn’t prepared to be so deeply moved by the reality of the Michelangelo sculptures. They are luminous in every sense of the word. I still have dreams of walking down the gallery beneath his Prisoners, struck by these figures seeming to actually move, struggling to free themselves from the bonds of stone. It was an astonishing moment, and it resonated within me in a way that until then, I had only experienced except through music or poetry.
What brings you great joy?
My family. Dogs. I love living in a place where I can lie in bed and see the sun and the moon rise. Watching nature in all its phases is both joyful and essential to me. I need to see the sky, and animals. I love snowstorms, and can’t get enough of them. I love flowers, especially from my garden. Music. More dogs. Probably among the most joyous moments of my life have been seeing my books published and recognized.
We live in a fairly rural setting. I have spent parts of my life living in the city, and it drained me. I felt constricted. I don’t like crowds. I am not a very social person. Although I enjoy good conversation, I’m not usually much of a talker. My husband teases me that he has to see what I’ve written to see what I’m thinking. But where we live makes me happy. When I had a day job, it used to pull at my heart to have to leave to go to the office. When I had a day off, I would say to the dogs: Today we’re going to have a happy, happy, day. Now, I can say that every day. Hardly a morning passes that I don’t look out the window and feel joy, knowing that I am where I want to be.
