JANE HAMILTON’S FIRST NOVEL, The Book of Ruth, won the Penn Ernest Hemingway Foundation Award for Best First Novel and was a selection of the Oprah Book Club. Her second novel, A Map of the World, was an international bestseller, and the fine novels kept on coming, so that now comes the publication of her eighth book, The Phoebe Variations, just out from Zibby Publishing. To say I am a fangirl does not quite cover it. I am, in fact, a superfan, and invite you to listen in and read along as we discuss how to create characterization and so much more. 

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Jane: Oh, thank you so much. It’s great to be here.

Marion: Well, it’s a joy to have you here. And your new novel, The Phoebe Variations, opens wonderfully and utilizes a terrific device to introduce two of the main characters by giving them a common text over which not only to meet — I mean, they’re both reaching for the same book in a library — but to bond, and they bond by identifying which character in this memorable book they identify with. The book is Jane Eyre, and I thought this was simply marvelous, allowing for identification, characterization, and real discernment. And my audience is writers, and they want to know how to create characterization. So talk to me about the use of Jane Eyre, the decision, and whether it was your first choice for making the distinction about these two young women in the world.

Jane: Well, you know how some things happen by accident, or you realize later that it was a very celver idea and then you remember, I wish that I could remember which novel I was reading where the characters shared a novel that they loved. And I can’t remember, but I thought, Oh, I love that when, you know, there’s references to novels and books or novels are important to people. So the Jane Eyre novel bonding instrument didn’t happen right away, but it was the first book that I chose for them to love. And it was only, you know, so this book came out, what, in September 2025, it was maybe in about August that I thought, oh, this actually was the perfect book for especially Phoebe, our heroine, because she’s looking back at her life and wondering at the choices that she made, and she’s like Jane Eyre, there was a tension, especially in her girlhood between wanting autonomy, but also thinking she should be submissive. And that is a constant tension throughout Jane Eyre. And so when I sort of articulated that tension to myself, which, as I just said, was fairly recent, I thought, Oh, that was indeed a very good choice for these girls to have bonded over. But, you know, it didn’t happen automatically is the short answer.

Marion: It is a wonderful moment. It’s a great thing in friendship when you do that, but when you have them reveal which character they most identify with, it’s so surprising and delightful, and immediately packs us with this wonder about both of them. And I won’t give it away because I want absolutely everybody to buy this book and read it. But I thought it was genius. I really did. And I could see it happening, these two people reaching for the same book and then having that conversation as we can in libraries. It’s really wonderful.

Jane: Well, it was really fun to write a book set in the 1970s, which is before cell phones, before all of that. So, you know, I don’t mean to romanticize the past, but I think time moved more slowly then.

Marion: Yes, you could meet someone in a library, and actually have the time to talk to them and possibly even the inclination. Yes, I agree.

So let’s talk about narrators. I teach memoir, and whenever I’m working one-on-one with a writer, I always ask them, who’s writing this book? And they usually sort of roll their eyes or stare at me like I’m crazy. That’s the reply you get from the writer. Like, well, but me, of course, but…I say, no, but which one of you is at the helm?

Is it the younger you, you know, right? Is it the younger you writing from where you were or are you now looking back, recreating those feelings? Or the older you looking back from here with all this knowledge intact? You know, The Phoebe Variations tells a story of a teenage girl looking through the perspective of her older self, reflecting, as you just said, on her formative experiences, and she explores the themes of motherhood, friendship, and adoption in the 1970s. And my audience is writers, and they want to know how to choose where to shoot from. So if you would, talk about your decision here, and or your decision anytime you write of who’s telling the tale and from where.

Jane: Those are very key and good questions. I wrote many, many drafts and many different versions of this book. I always knew what was the inciting incident, and that Phoebe was the lead character. But I wrote it from the first person. I wrote it from the third person. I went back to the first person. Some books just do not come easily. And I think… Finding the form of a book is every bit as important as finding the voice. But no matter, third or first person, I did have a sense of her voice. And I, this isn’t very helpful, but I think the voice comes at an intuitive level when the writer understands the problem involved for that character. This is the question that my editor asked me, you know, the book, I handed it in, it was fine. I mean, it required some editing, but not just a huge overhaul. But she said, and this is a very writing workshop question, but she said, “What is the occasion for this telling of this particular narrative?” And I thought, hmm, I don’t really know. So I thought about that a little bit and did determine what the occasion was.

Marion: Such a great question. Wow.

Jane: Yeah. And it wasn’t, you know, you’d think that after working on it for 10 plus years, I would know the answer to that immediately. But I actually didn’t. So I answered that.

One of the things that’s been interesting since the book came out, which always surprises me, is people asking, well, is “Phoebe a reliable narrator?” And I know that that term comes up a lot. And I think, well, yeah. Yeah. Totally. But the fact is that, you know, none of us really are reliable narrators because memory is such a slippery thing. But I think that in my view, Phoebe is doing the best job she can to recall what took place decades before. And she wants not to lie to herself. She wants to see clearly. And, of course, that’s kind of an impossible task. So I’m not sure that I’m answering your question, but for me, characterization takes place somewhat slowly.

I love what Flannery O’Connor said about “The goal of fiction is to probe the mystery of personality.” And that is a guiding light for me. I think about that all the time. But again, it’s not something for me anyway that happens overnight. The details accrue draft by draft. And to me, that’s the joy of writing, is just seeing the character really come into focus and acquire some depth.

Marion: Yes, I bet. Yes. And I think too, with nonfiction writing, with memoir writing, the acquiring some depth is so important. And as we look back at our lives in particular, I think reliability goes right out the window. And how could it not? But the curiosity about self is… is such an interesting driver, and what are we looking for as we go back and have a look. That’s what I just adored about sitting on Phoebe’s shoulder and going with her.

And the book is set in the 70s and you and I are about the same age and I too am fascinated by the 70s. And there’s so much in play during that time. For instance, it was a whopper of a time to be a woman and a mother. Some were going back to work. Some continued to have many children. The Feminine Mystique had been published and was either embraced or set aside. There was the Pill, personal freedom. We’re pre-AIDS. It’s Watergate. I see it now looking back. It is an enormous tension for women. My mother had friends in caftans, friends in corporate suits, friends who lived in tennis dresses, and others who were holding key parties where everybody swapped spouses.

Jane: Oh, my gosh.

Marion: Oh, absolutely. In my neighborhood? Oy.

Jane: Wow.

Marion: Yeah, so all realities that my grandmother never navigated. So talk to me about writing about the tension of time, which you do so wonderfully. Those writers listening wanna know how to show time and place instead of just saying, it’s 1974, so-and-so was president. You know, how do you portray time in the characters that you choose. I mean, I’ve noticed it throughout the book, but I’d just love you to give a few tips about how you make somebody a 70s mom, for instance, and what paints and paint pots and paint brushes you had at your disposal.

What skills were you using and what were you looking for to portray to make sure we understand these are the tensions of the 1970s on a woman?

Jane: Well, first of all, this is sort of cheating, maybe. But, you know, I did come of age in the 70s. So I’m writing about a time that I lived through when I was a teenager, which is a time for many of us, as we know, of great intensity. And a person is paying attention and wondering, you know, as a girl, wondering which model of womanhood are you going to choose today? Those that are displayed before you in the neighborhood and at school. And so, you know, there’s the mommies with 12 kids and there’s the… Well, in Oak Park, Illinois, where I grew up, I went to a high school with 5,000 students and I knew one person who had a single mother. It just was not done.

So, you know, and Oak Park later became a place that welcomed and celebrated lesbian and gay couples and people. So, but at that point, no, it just wasn’t even on our horizon. So I just went back in my head and lived in my neighborhood. And so, there the details were, and listened to music and I didn’t have to do much real research in a certain way because I was just remembering.

But I find it not my favorite thing when I’m reading historical novels and the characters… bring a modern sensibility to the things that they’re facing, which might have happened centuries ago or even decades ago. And I’m offended by that, frankly. So I really stand in awe of people. For instance, I just finished Isola by Allegra Goodman, which takes place in the 16th century. And I thought she did an amazing job conjuring that time together. I mean, how can we know how precisely she got at what the time was? But to me, it read as true as I think it possibly could have. So I really admire people who write convincing historical novels, but that’s not something that I’ve ever really tried my hand at.

Although, you know, this book now is considered historical fiction, I think. But to me, no, seriously, like they were they were shopping it around to the movies and the shopper person said, “Well, you know, one of the obstacles for this book is going to be that it’s considered a historical time. So they have to get the cars. And so that’s more expensive.” And, you know, to me, it just it’s not like, you know, setting it in the court of Louis XIV. Right? But anyway, so all those details were… The short answer is all those details for me were kind of at the ready.

Marion: Yeah. And you mined them. And it works really, really well as we move with… Phoebe, through her experiences. And I think it’s beautifully put, and I agree with you. And that’s why I ask people, you know, who’s telling the story? Because you can’t tell the story of your teenage self. If you’re going to use teenage language of then, you can’t know what you know now. And that’s the tricky part a lot of the time. But Phoebe is fully in command of what she knows and I think portrays the 70s wonderfully. Yeah. So let’s talk about place.

Jane: Can I ask you one question? Because I am always amazed when I read novels that are set in the 60s and 70s and the characters use profanity such as the F word. And, you know, I came of age among people who were… bookish people and, you know, my friends, we were all in the drama group, and we read plays and we considered ourselves intellectuals. So I could be totally wrong about this, but I just did not hear the word “fuck,” when I was coming of age. And then came along the Sopranos which was what the end of the nineties……

Marion: Which used it as every part of speech…

Jane: But I’m just not sure they used it as liberally as sometimes get portrayed. Yeah, yeah. I get annoyed by little details that seem unconvincing to me, and I’m kind of a petty reader, so I could be wrong about so much, but things like that really annoy me.

Marion: No, they really annoy me, and they should annoy us because it’s your responsibility to know what we did and said in the timeframe. And I, too, will call out the writers I work with about language because we didn’t in fact use a lot of the language we use now liberally. And we used language now that we wouldn’t even consider using. So I think that you have to know, you have to do your research. You cannot just apply the standards of now to the standards of then. And I get very prickly. I say to myself, That person is not writing from an eight-year-old’s point of view. An eight-year-old can’t know that cognitively. Or nobody used that language then. Or nobody used “Inner child” before 1978, let’s say. And you kind of have to know that, right?

Jane: Yeah, you do.

Marion: If you’re writing from 1962, uh-uh, no, that is a dead giveaway that you didn’t do your homework. So doing your homework is not just about the cognitive ability of the character. It’s also about… Yes, I agree. Yeah.

So let’s talk about place a little bit. In your work, you repeatedly go back to Wisconsin, which is where you live. And there’s no denying that place is a character in your work. And I think I want to just talk to me about percolating up place throughout a story without simply giving us a tour. There are certain things, and this sort of gets to the same question we were getting at about language, is how do you be true to a place, right? Which is a very different place. I’ve been in Oak Park. I know where you’re from. I had relatives that grew up in Wisconsin. Very different than where I grew up in New York City. So talk to me about just making sure the place is also accurate.

Jane: Well, as I said, I wrote a lot of drafts of this book and a lot of versions. And at one point, I did have Phoebe living in New York City. She was an assistant to a comedy duo very like Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, and she lived in the Dakota. And that was a lot of fun to write and to be in the Dakota. But it really didn’t work for this particular book. And, you know, I don’t know if you’ve had this experience in your writing. You know, I think that memoir isn’t really all that different from writing fiction, although I’m sure that’s a whole another can of worms, and a whole hour’s worth of podcasting. But… So I took Phoebe out into the world and then I just really had to bring her back into the world, particularly of that house of 14 children and two parents.

And I loved being in that chaotic house, with the dog turd under the sofa. Fourteen kids, what are you going to do? She runs away from her adopted mother. She is living in the basement, hiding in the basement of this house with 14 children overhead, 12 of which are boys. So she’s really gone to the land of boys.

Marion: Yep.

Jane: And so putting her in that house and living with her in that house was a total joy. I think writing, as we all know, is really challenging and it can bring up things for the writer that are difficult to look at. But even if the subject matter is unpleasant or terrifying or surprising, and not a good way, it’s still, I think, I hope for the writer, a kind of pleasure to be in the world, and as chaotic as that household is I really loved being there with her, and with her in the basement in that ratty moldy basement listening to the footsteps overhead. And then later she does go to Wisconsin to an equally ratty house. But place for me is an anchor and often a challenge to make things work in a very circumscribed place.

And, for me, writing this book, the whole thing didn’t come into focus until I realized that the friend of Phoebe, whose name is Luna, and the book is about this very, very powerful friendship, and this sounds so obvious, but it took me a long time to understand that in a certain way, Luna has to be in every frame. Not that she’s physically present, but that she’s in Phoebe’s consciousness, and the reader is aware of her being in Phoebe’s consciousness. And so that gave all the different places a structure and a foundation because Luna was there. Oh, I love that.

Marion: I love that. And I have to tell you, I loved being in that house with all 14 children, as well. And I loved the whole chaos of it. I felt very safe there. I understood the choice. So you just did that so beautifully. It was a lot of fun to be there. So I’ve read a quote by you in another interview in which you once said, “Writing a book I’ve realized is potentially like going to a dinner party in a dress that is wrong or even forgetting to wear anything at all.”

Jane: What? It’s a great…

Marion: Yeah, you did. You said that. I laughed out loud, and I was like, what does she mean, though? In a dinner party, in a dress that is wrong? So is it about exposure? Do you have any recollection of saying that, or should we just move on?

Jane: No, I don’t remember. That sort of sounds like something that Lorrie Moore would say, which is wonderful.

Marion: I know.

Jane: But I’ll take it. I’ll take it. it’s a playwright who said that “no matter what you write, it reveals something that you are not aware of.” That’s, I’m botching the quote, but, but I do think, I do think that you are exposing yourself even if you don’t realize in the moment what exactly it is you’re exposing. And even if you’re not writing in a literal autobiographical way, it’s still the sort of there you are, your obsessions, your preoccupations, your moral failings. Sort of come through various characters. And it’s often true, I think, I hope that maybe only you realize what’s there, but also sometimes people say amazingly illuminating things about the work that can feel slightly invasive because they have seen you.

Marion: Yes, they have. You’ve revealed, you’ve lifted up your wings and showed us your under feathers, you know, or whatever it is. I think your eye for the human condition is a marvel, honest to God. And I’m fascinated by what you’re fascinated with. It’s like being on a little magic carpet with you and you say, “Oh, look over there.” And I do. And you zero in on aspects of us and you have a look for us and with us. But given the human condition, our vast weaknesses, foibles, appetites, I’m fascinated by like how do you choose what interests you enough, like say, motherhood in the 1970s, to spend this much time on it, you know? I’m just interested in the whole process of when you look and then how you say, “I could stay here for the length of time to write this book.”

Jane: Well, I’ve written about the mothers of that time in other novels, and I have not exhausted my wonderment at those mommies who had 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 children across the alley in my Oak Park neighborhood.

Mrs. Collins had 12 boys, and on our side there were 10 girls. And just how they got up in the morning, how they coped. I still cannot get my mind around what it was like to open their crusted eyelids every morning and just think, “Oh, my God. God.” And I think, you know, I have a friend who has 12 siblings, and her mother, her mother was very religious. And somehow or other, she escaped those children every day and went to mass. And that’s what got her through. And somebody recently told me that her mother, her 1970s mother of eight or nine or so, would go down to the basement after breakfast with a flashlight — this sounds so improbable, but she swore it was true — and the mother would climb into a steamer trunk, close the lid, and that’s where she… That’s what she read with her flashlight.

So, you know, everybody had their particular ways of coping, but it just… That’s fabulous. So anyway, how was it to spend so much time in that world? I’m still… interested in that world. As I’ve said, I had a lot of failures with this book, a lot of drafts that didn’t work, but I was always so happy to come back to these people and this world. So, and that’s something physical as well as psychic. You have a wellness feeling through your body when, Oh, I get to be with Phoebe again, even though none of the publishing people liked it. Oh, well, I’ll soldier on and continue with her because I love being with her, and I love her and I love those mommies. Yeah.

Marion: I love the mommies. And I too grew up in a neighborhood where there was 10 over here and eight over there. And the station wagons, you know, the waybacks and the station wagons and the sandwiches that you would find under their sofas. And I remember one family we grew up with. They didn’t have a dime. They were the most fun people ever. But one of their uncles worked at the Waldorf Astoria and he used to bring home these vats of caviar. So there’d be these Wonder Bread sandwiches of caviar everywhere in this house with all these children. And it was just, you know, it’s one of those things that… My God.

Jane: Exactly. I wish I could…I wish I had known that and had been able to steal it. That’s fantastic.

Marion: Caviar sandwiches on Wonder Bread. And they would just be walking around with them. And Wonder Bread was so floppy. And I was maybe seven or eight. This has stayed with me forever, the smell of them, the look of them. And they just put them down and then pick them up later. So I get the durability of our wonder, I think, is great. So exactly where we live and is also, you know, one of the things that our in-laws or our neighbors, or whatever, also look at us askance like, oh, nine years on that book, huh? That’s like nine Thanksgivings of answering your in-laws. Like, how’s it going?

Ah, still working. Yeah.

Jane: Well, I actually do think that you bring up a good point for a young writer. My advice is, do not tell people that you’re writing a book until you really know what you have. And because of that very reason, you just don’t want every Thanksgiving people to say, “how’s it going?” Keep it a secret. And it’s better. It’s actually, I think, has more power to you as the writer as something subversive.

Marion: Oh, I love that. Yes. Yes, that’s very nice. I know. I tell my writers all the time, “Don’t show it and don’t, no, don’t tell them. God, no, don’t tell them.” But I like it as a subversive act. That is deeply appealing. And especially now, I like that a lot. Yeah. Well, good. Well, I think that’s a wonderful place to wrap it up. But I’m so grateful for your work, and so delighted that you came along today to talk about it. And now I’m going to go engage in some more subversive work, I think.

So, Jane, good luck with the book.

Jane: Thank you so much. It’s a joy. And it’s just so great to talk to you. And when I see you again in upstate New York or elsewhere, we will continue our discussion.

Marion: I will look forward to it. Thank you. You too.

Jane: Thank you so much.

Marion: The author is Jane Hamilton. See more on her at jane hamilton books dot com. The book is The Phoebe Variations, just out from Zibby Books. Get it wherever books are sold. I’m Marion Roach Smith, and you’ve been listening to Qwerty. Qwerty is produced by Overit Studios in Albany, New York. Reach them at Overit studios dot com. Our producer is Jacquelin Mignot. Our assistant is Lorna Bailey. Want more on the art and work of writing? Visit marion roach dot com, the home of The Memoir Project, where writers get their needs met through online classes and how to write memoir. And thanks for listening. Don’t forget to follow QWERTY wherever you get your podcasts and listen to it wherever you go. And if you like what you hear, please leave us a review. It helps others to find their way to their writing lives.