Jonas Hassen Khemiri, whose work has appeared in The New York Times, The New Yorker and other outlets, is the author of six novels, seven plays and numerous essays and short stories. A finalist for the National Book Award for Translated Literature and winner of an Obie Award, Khemiri has just published his latest novel, “The Sisters.”
Q. Please tell readers about your new book.
“The Sisters” started when someone I loved put a curse on me. I didn’t believe in curses. A curse is just a story, right? But stories are powerful, especially the ones that try to predict our future. Many years later, after living in the shadow of that curse, I realized I needed to write a novel about three sisters trying to escape a family curse.
The sisters’ curse is this: Everything they love, they will lose.
It sounds like a horrible curse, until you realize it’s actually just the curse of time. And in that sense, we’re all cursed. We follow these sisters over the course of 35 years as they fall in and out of love, move and move again, learn new languages and forget old ones, try drugs, steal things, betray and forgive each other. It’s my most personal novel yet, because every other chapter started with a personal memory.
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Q. “The Sisters” is your first book written in English, is that correct? What was that experience like?
It felt like liberation.
I grew up speaking Swedish. My parents spoke French. My favorite rappers and actors spoke English. And for some strange reason, these sisters started speaking to me in English. My first impulse was to tell them off, to convince them I’m a Swedish writer and that they had to switch languages. But then I stopped myself. I thought about all the times I’ve strangled creative projects by trying to control them too early.
So I told the sisters: “Fine. I’ll give you one chapter in English. Two. Five. Ten.” Before I knew it, I’d written 600+ pages in English. I made a pact with myself to never look up a word. Just keep going.
Then I wrote the book again in Swedish. Then I rewrote it a third time in English. The running joke with my kids is that I’ll spend the rest of my life rewriting it in languages I don’t even speak.
Looking back, I think I needed English more than the sisters did, because writing in a language that’s not your mother tongue makes it impossible to be perfect. And perfectionism is the killer of creativity. I think the distance the English offered made it more OK for me to write about certain personal losses that I have tried and failed to write in my mother tongue for many years. For some reason it was easier in English. Maybe because the language was borrowed, I felt less exposed, like I was wearing a mask that let me speak more honestly.
Q. Is there a book or books you always recommend to other readers?
Here are the ones I’ve probably gifted most often in the last couple of years:
“Milk Blood Heat” by Dantiel Moniz
“A Swim in a Pond in the Rain” by George Saunders
“The Collected Stories” by Amy Hempel
“The Brothers Lionheart” by Astrid Lindgren
Q. What are you reading now?
The Bible. Heard about it?
Q. How do you decide what to read next?
Total randomness. Sometimes a friend recommends something. Sometimes it’s a name I see in an interview. I just read the beautiful “The Book Of Records” by Madeleine Thien, who was in my cohort at the Cullman Center, and during a talk she said she was inspired by Yōko Ogawa’s “The Memory Police,” so now that’s on my list. Books lead to other books. It’s a long, beautiful chain reaction.
Q. Do you remember the first book that made an impact on you?
Yes. It was a tiny children’s book titled “Dun till lillans täcke” (“Down for Little Sister’s Quilt”). The story follows a boy who’s just become a big brother, and he’s sent out into the world to gather feathers for his baby sister’s blanket. He goes from bird to bird, politely asking for a feather, and each time he’s turned down. I couldn’t understand why the birds kept denying him and every time my mom read it to me, I kept wishing the birds would be kinder this time around. I had just become an older brother myself, so I guess I could relate to the responsibility of the main character.
Q. Is there a book you’re nervous to read?
There’s a novel by Per Olov Enquist (R.I.P.) called “Nedstörtad ängel” (“Downfall”) about 100 pages of pure brilliance. It’s structured in three parts, each exploring different facets of love and monstrosity. Enquist once claimed he didn’t even remember writing it. I sometimes wonder if this book gave me writer’s block in my late twenties. I’m grateful it exists, but I’m afraid to return to it. Perfect books can be paralyzing. These days, I prefer novels that are messy, overambitious, and too full of life.
Q. Can you recall a book that felt like it was written with you in mind (or conversely, one that most definitely wasn’t)?
When I first met Momo, the main character in “Life Before Us” by Emile Ajar, I thought: “If this person exists, there must be other people like us out there.” The book single-handedly reduced my existential loneliness by at least 25%. Same thing with “Pnin” by Vladimir Nabokov, “10:30 on a Summer Night” by Marguerite Duras, or “Giovanni’s Room” by James Baldwin. I think that’s what I’m aiming for as a writer—that my readers will meet my characters and feel some version of: “I’m still utterly alone in this world, but maybe, thanks to this book, that loneliness feels a bit more survivable.” Especially in these turbulent times, when strong forces seem to insist that separation is better than connection, and the only way forward is backward, I wanted to write a novel that says the opposite.
Q. What’s something – a fact, a bit of dialogue or something else – that has stayed with you from a recent reading?
These lines from Joseph Brodsky’s poem “A Song,”, have echoed in my mind recently:
I wish you were here, dear,I wish you were here.I wish I knew no astronomywhen stars appear…
https://allpoetry.com/poem/8515381-A-Song-by-Joseph-Brodsky
Q. Do you have any favorite book covers?
How much time do we have? My editor and I have a running joke that while everything else in the publishing process moves smoothly, we always have to block out at least six months for the cover.
I’ve been obsessed with book design for years. For “The Sisters,” I finally got to work with Rodrigo Corral, a dream collaborator. I’ve admired his work ever since I saw his design for Jay-Z’s “Decoded.” His studio also crafted the covers for Rachel Cusk’s books, which I absolutely love.
I’m a sucker for series design, books that feel like part of a family. Like Peter Mendelsund’s W.G. Sebald series: different, yet connected. Like you and your weird uncle.
Q. Do you listen to audiobooks? If so, are there any titles or narrators you’d recommend?
Yes. Mostly for classics, like “Buddenbrooks” by Thomas Mann, which works beautifully as an audiobook. Or for self-help books I’m too embarrassed to read on the subway.
Q. Is there a genre or type of book you read the most – and what would you like to read more of?
I mostly read literary fiction, but I wish I read more sci-fi, thrillers, and romance. I need at least two more lives just for reading.
Q. Do you have a favorite book or books?
Who’s your favorite child slash parent slash brother? If I had to pick one book that was important for this particular novel, it would have to be “War and Peace” by Tolstoy. Yes, “Anna Karenina” might be considered the “better novel” by many, but I love that “War and Peace” is messy and imperfect, sublime and sometimes boring, just like life itself.
Q. Which books are you planning to read next?
A friend just texted me to say that has bought me a copy of “When We Cease to Understand the World” by Benjamín Labatut. He loved it so much he bought me a copy. So I guess that’s next.
Q. Do you have a favorite character or quote from a book?
I love the character Kafka creates of himself in his diaries. There’s something about his ability to be both hypersensitive and judgmental, ambitious and full of self-doubt, dark and laugh-out-loud funny that has influenced my writing and thinking. Here are some favorite lines that any creative person might want to tattoo on their forehead: “I am in chains. Don’t touch my chains.” Or how about this gem: “I have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.” (Though you’d need a fairly large forehead for that one.)
Q. Is there a person who made an impact on your reading life – a teacher, a parent, a librarian or someone else?
My mom. When I was a kid, she’d take us to the library with big blue IKEA bags and say, “Stock up.” We once borrowed more books than the system allowed, I think the limit was 50.
She’s 72 now and still reads at least five books a week. I called her last night, it was 6 p.m. in New York, midnight in Sweden. My kids asked, “Why is grandmother still awake?” And she said, “It’s boring to sleep! And I just started a fantastic book.”
Q. What do you find the most appealing in a book: the plot, the language, the cover, a recommendation? Do you have any examples?
The right sentence, tone and rhythm can make anything interesting. I don’t have anything against plot, but I tend to watch TV series or movies for plot.
In some circles, there’s a fear of exploring what life feels like. We try to be clever or theoretical instead of speaking to the heart. But it takes courage to let real emotion into your work. That’s one of the things I tried to do in “The Sisters.”
Q. What’s a memorable book experience – good or bad – you’re willing to share?
Reading Édouard Louis’s “History of Violence” with my students in the MFA program at NYU for the first time, was pure joy. It opened up conversations about innovative narrative structures and the kind of creative courage and empathy it takes to write honestly and boldly.
Q. Is there a book that tapped into an emotion you didn’t expect?
I cry every time I read the first chapter of “The Brothers Lionheart.” Last time I read it aloud to my sons, my oldest started crying. My youngest said, “Look at my eyes, Dad, they’re so incredibly dry.” But I could tell he was holding it in. It’s a children’s book. But anyone with a heart that will one day stop beating needs to read it.
Q. Do you have a favorite bookstore or bookstore experience?
I’ve sent so many friends to The Strand that they really owe me a tote bag by now. I also love Albertine on the Upper East Side, Greenlight in Fort Greene, Community Bookstore in Park Slope, and a newer favorite, Restless Books. And of course, you can’t beat the history, and the ghosts, at Shakespeare & Co in Paris.
Q. What’s something about your book that no one knows?
“The Sisters” started out as a novel about three sisters with superpowers. But the sisters sat me down and said, respectfully, yet menacingly, that they’d spent their whole lives in a world that expected them to be superheroes. They would only tell their stories if I let them be human. That’s when the book began to sing. That’s one of many things the sisters taught me during this writing process.
Q. If you could ask your readers something, what would it be?
Are you ready to let go?
For more information, go to the author’s website.