Q&A: Rene Denfeld on darkness and hope
Joining us this month is Portland writer Rene Denfeld, author of the recently released literary thriller The Child Finder and the 2014 novel The Enchanted, which won the French Prix Award and an American Library Association Medal for Excellence in Fiction. She has authored four nonfiction books and been published in the New York Times, Washington Post, Philadelphia Inquirer, and Oregonian. She also is a licensed legal investigator who has worked on many death penalty cases and with sex trafficking victims and innocents in prison. She says it is in her novels that she finds “the greatest hope, the poetry and magic of life.”
In your novels you write about difficult things you’ve seen in your work, such as child abuse and prison conditions and corruption. Does writing about these topics influence how you experience them when you encounter them in real life?
Yes, I’ve found the experiences shape the novels, and the novels shape the experiences. I process a lot in writing. Many times it is the writing that reveals to me truths that I hadn’t recognized before, whether observations about mass incarceration or the systemic causes of child abuse, or the cycles of violence. The writing helps me see the hope, too. I can step back and see how resilient people are, how even when I am dealing with the worst cases there are so many people who want to help, from family members to volunteers. We hear so much about the harm of the world, but seldom do we hear about the strength and goodness that are threaded through it.
As a novelist, how much have you chosen your material, and how much has it chosen you?
Both my novels came to me in a voice. I hear the voice and it leads me to a character, and the character leads me to the story and the plot.
Your novels have a lot of dark characters and subject matter. Do you ever worry that that might turn your readers off?
I don’t see them as dark novels at all—I think they are shot through with magic and hope. Very few people have the privilege or luck to escape the trauma that inflicts most people in our country, whether through war, racism, segregation, incarceration, abuse, domestic violence, or just plain loneliness and grief. Rather than try to escape that, I want to lead readers through the darkness to a better place. I want to show how we can not only survive the hard times, we can thrive.
I know this is true from my own life. I lived through unspeakable horror as a child and was homeless as a teenager. I also know it is true from my children’s lives—I adopted them from foster care, and was honored to be the one to help them heal. And I also know it is true from my work. It’s easy to give up on humanity. But when we get in and do the work we discover the hope.
Would you recommend dark subject matter to other fiction writers?
I’d ask “What makes something dark, and what makes something light?” A book others might see as light could be seen by some as actually oppressive, by painting a utopian account of life. There is no room in those stories for someone like me, or my kids.
You value the truth. Why is it important that people know the truth? And how does truth telling differ in nonfiction writing and in novel writing?
I often tell witnesses that I believe justice happens when we tell the truth. I believe that with my heart and soul. The truth frees us. It lets us see our connections as humans, our frailties, our mistakes, our grievances, as well as our goodness and strength. I see fiction as a way to tell the complex truths in ways that don’t make readers feel as defensive. Fiction allows us to see the truth embodied in people, not behind a wall of argument.
You seem very motivated to help others. Do you view your writing and your investigative work as equally helpful to people? If not, which do you consider more helpful, and why?
My investigative work and parenting have been the chance to help real people. I’ve worked hundreds of cases, and adopted three kids from foster care as well as fostered others. That’s activism on a daily level, one person at a time. My novels have the ability to reach thousands more. I think both are effective, in different ways. I get so many letters from readers who tell me my novels changed their lives. Many are from trauma survivors who feel that someone finally understood, and gave them hope. My novels push back hard against societal messages of shame. They are about victims claiming their stories and their right to be happy and healed.
In your most recent novel, The Child Finder, Oregon’s natural environment is a strong presence. Did you grow up in Oregon and spend a lot of time out in nature? If so, what was that experience like for you, and how did it affect your writing? If not, how did you develop your sense of the natural world in Oregon?
I did grow up in Oregon. The novel was a great chance to showcase the beauty here. You can go from beach to snowy mountains to the desert here, all in one day. I love that. The wilderness and beauty of Oregon definitely shaped me as a writer. Even growing up poor in the city, it was impossible to escape the lush courage and wilderness, spouting from every abandoned ditch, filling the trees with bird song. It is a gorgeous state.
As an investigator and writer, you have spent a lot of time focusing on crime, violence, and pain. How do you keep it from getting you down?
Rather than get me down, it has made me more optimistic over time. When we are involved hands on with change, we feel much better about ourselves and our futures. Nothing is more depressing than doing nothing. Frankly, only people of privilege can afford do that. Pessimism is a luxury.
What advice do you have for writers who want to tackle subject matter that might be painful for them or their readers?
Write from your heart. Tell your truth and the truth of your world. Silence the inner critic that tells you it won’t sell or people won’t like it. What you write will be a salve for [people who have] been silenced, ignored, and shamed their entire lives. Treat victims with respect. Even fictional victims deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. Never, ever, exploit victims or violence. Harm is not a plot device, or there for your or the reader’s entertainment. Hold true to the sanctity and joy of life—be real and be loving.
