Dante's Heart
An Interview with Elizabeth Kerner
EK: This is a hard one, and the first time anyone has asked me about this. I'm
not exactly sure where ferrinshadik comes from, though I suspect it doesn't have
any more complicated origin than wishing that I could tell my dogs and cats that,
really, the visit to the V-E-T is going to make them feel better. As time goes
on, and we as a species realise that all manner of beasts and bees and plants
manage to communicate amongst themselves, I find it increasingly frustrating that
we silly humans, for all our vaunted intelligence, haven't managed to achieve more
than the basic communication we have with dogs, cats, and a very few other
companion species. (I understand that horsy people manage pretty well too.
Alas, I'm an outsider at that particular party.)
I'm one of those folk that feel uncomfortable visiting a country whose language I
do not speak pretty fluently. I suspect it's good for me, though, in the sense of
keeping me humble. One comes across as a total idiot, having to rely on the
'Everybody there speaks English' assumption, which strikes me as incredibly
arrogant (not to mention wrong). However, I do try this now and again, because I
love talking to people from different cultures and learning a new way of seeing
the world. After all, I live in a foreign country (i.e., not the US!) and have had to
assimilate a whole raft of new assumptions. When I lived in Hawaii, it was a
different world again, and I found it fascinating.
DH: Few writers of recent years have told stories of dragons as vividly and
freshly as you have. In particular, we are struck and touched by the scene in The
Song in the Silence in which Lanen midwifes a difficult birth and scorches her
arms to the bone with the heat of the dragon’s insides. All I can ask about that
feat of imagination is: how did you do that?
EK: With help! I have a dear friend, Margaret Lynn Harshbarger, who among
her many and varied talents (like having been a professional operatic soprano!)
has a brilliant and unerring sense of which rocks to throw at the good guys.
Without her help, my books would all have been a lot more boring! I adore
characters, but I am the world's worst plotter. Luckily, I have dear friends who
are willing to help. I also contacted a kind soul at the local Burns Unit and
asked all manner of weird questions, having first assured said kind soul that I'm a
fantasy writer!
DH: What was your first encounter with dragons? Where did you first fall in
love with them?
EK: I think my first dragon was The Reluctant Dragon, by Kenneth Grahame,
better known as the author of The Wind in the Willows. It was read aloud by –
are you ready for this? – Captain Kangaroo when I was tiny! *blush* I read it
later in life and still adore the story, it is full of wit and very clever. And the
dragon is not some marauding monster, it's a (pretty awful) poet who just wants
someone to talk to. Loved it....
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EK: This is a hard one, and the first time anyone has asked me about this. I'm
not exactly sure where ferrinshadik comes from, though I suspect it doesn't have
any more complicated origin than wishing that I could tell my dogs and cats that,
really, the visit to the V-E-T is going to make them feel better. As time goes
on, and we as a species realise that all manner of beasts and bees and plants
manage to communicate amongst themselves, I find it increasingly frustrating that
we silly humans, for all our vaunted intelligence, haven't managed to achieve more
than the basic communication we have with dogs, cats, and a very few other
companion species. (I understand that horsy people manage pretty well too.
Alas, I'm an outsider at that particular party.)
I'm one of those folk that feel uncomfortable visiting a country whose language I
do not speak pretty fluently. I suspect it's good for me, though, in the sense of
keeping me humble. One comes across as a total idiot, having to rely on the
'Everybody there speaks English' assumption, which strikes me as incredibly
arrogant (not to mention wrong). However, I do try this now and again, because I
love talking to people from different cultures and learning a new way of seeing
the world. After all, I live in a foreign country (i.e., not the US!) and have had to
assimilate a whole raft of new assumptions. When I lived in Hawaii, it was a
different world again, and I found it fascinating.
DH: Few writers of recent years have told stories of dragons as vividly and
freshly as you have. In particular, we are struck and touched by the scene in The
Song in the Silence in which Lanen midwifes a difficult birth and scorches her
arms to the bone with the heat of the dragon’s insides. All I can ask about that
feat of imagination is: how did you do that?
EK: With help! I have a dear friend, Margaret Lynn Harshbarger, who among
her many and varied talents (like having been a professional operatic soprano!)
has a brilliant and unerring sense of which rocks to throw at the good guys.
Without her help, my books would all have been a lot more boring! I adore
characters, but I am the world's worst plotter. Luckily, I have dear friends who
are willing to help. I also contacted a kind soul at the local Burns Unit and
asked all manner of weird questions, having first assured said kind soul that I'm a
fantasy writer!
DH: What was your first encounter with dragons? Where did you first fall in
love with them?
EK: I think my first dragon was The Reluctant Dragon, by Kenneth Grahame,
better known as the author of The Wind in the Willows. It was read aloud by –
are you ready for this? – Captain Kangaroo when I was tiny! *blush* I read it
later in life and still adore the story, it is full of wit and very clever. And the
dragon is not some marauding monster, it's a (pretty awful) poet who just wants
someone to talk to. Loved it....
Back Page 3
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