Forget the Comparisons. She’s Unique.

 
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In what sense?
As an artist. And to call yourself a writer, it’s not easy for me to take that on, to say, “Oh, I’m an artist.” It all sounds so luxurious, so up there somewhere. All I know is that I’m a housewife and a mother—words I have no problem saying. For the most part, I wrote this book in little tiny pieces, when I had extra time, when my son was in school, and when everybody was asleep and I’d finished my housework. So be taken seriously? It’s like a miracle. And I walk around thinking, “I can’t believe it’s really happening,” because less than a year ago, I didn’t even have an agent.

But hadn’t you been writing for, like, 12 years?
Absolutely. But if you saw how many rejections I had, you’d just laugh.

You used to be a lawyer.
I went to law school because I didn’t have the nerve to be a writer. I didn’t have the courage when I was 21. I mean writing? It seemed so luxurious. Then when I left corporate law, I was so exhausted that I thought it would be easy to write a book.

How similar are you to your protagonist, Casey Han?
Every time I had a problem with a character, I’d give them something I have. People think I’m all Casey, but I’m in so many characters. I broke my nose; Leah broke her nose. I love to cook, so I gave Ella my cooking. What does Flaubert say? “Emma Bovary, c’est moi.”

The novel inhabits the so many different points of view, including those of a Puerto Rican doorman, an investment banker from Harvard Business School and a middle-aged choir conductor. What kind of research did you do for this book?
I interviewed 50 people for this book. I pretended to apply to Harvard Business School for a day—you can go online and apply to take free classes for a day to see what it’s like. So I flew to Cambridge. I took a class in millinery at the Fashion Institute of Technology for a whole semester.

In the book, clothing and physical appearance were such telling signs of character. What are you wearing?
Well, my pants are from the Gap. They were on sale for $30. I am a writer, after all. And All-Star sneakers and a vintage white tunic.

 
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