Long ago and far away, I met E. Lockhart the way a lot of us authors meet: online. I immediately developed a girl crush on her, because she’s super smart, cool, funny, and nice. Then, I started reading her books and became a fan of her writing, not just her personality.
The first time I met her in person, at NCTE 2006 (in the Gaylord Opryland biodome as you may recall), it went sort of like this: I stalked her, located her, threw myself at her (hiI’mSaraZarrfromtheemaillistit’ssogreattomeetyoucanIgetapicture?) and immediately handed someone a camera to snap our photo. And, she had just had one of those late flight situations that forced her to change in a restroom to get ready for her signing. But does she look even remotely cranky or put-upon?

(Thought bubble over me: How can I get my bangs to grow out as gracefully as E.’s? Speaking of hair, fun fact: I once expressed my obsession with the idea of shaving my head, just to see what it’s like. E. said I should do it, that every woman should at least once, and sent me a picture of her more or less bald. Though I was thoroughly convinced it worked for her, I still have my doubts when it comes to me.)
Up until a couple of weeks ago, my favorite E. Lockhart book was Dramarama. I love that book! Theater camp! Best friendships put to the test! And, of course, jazz hands. Then, I finally finally finally read National Book Award finalist and Printz honor book The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks and, well, as you may already know, it is a great book, full of important ideas while also endlessly entertaining, and my new favorite of E.’s oeuvre thus far. (“E’s Oeuvre” sounds a little bit like a late-night cable movie on the naughty channel…)
Even though E. is busy writing more books and going on tour, she graciously agreed to answer some questions for the blog:
SZ: Can you talk a little bit about the narrative voice you chose and how you chose it?
EL: It’s just what came out when I wrote the first sentence. I knew Disreputable History would be written in third person, partly because I wanted the challenge after doing a series of first-person books, but also because I wanted to keep Frankie’s plans a secret from the readers until she executed them. That’s harder to do when you’re inside a character’s head. I think I am pretty much incapable of an invisible omniscient narrator. I kept having stuff to say; comments about what was going on. So I wrote them. It wasn’t considered. It was organic.
SZ: In the acknowledgments, you mention you sold this idea based on a couple of paragraphs. Be honest: did you have any clue what you were going to do? Are any of the seeds from those paragraphs left in the final outcome?
EL: I sold the book based on the idea of writing about late night pranks and hijinks at boarding school, which was an idea I presented causally, verbally, at lunch with my editor. She made an offer the next day — and then I wrote up two paragraphs so sales and marketing would have some idea what I’d be doing.
In those two paragraphs, I came up with the idea of a girl with an older boyfriend and her relationship to his group of friends, all of whom are dismissive of her capabilities. Â So the book was always about a girl proving herself.
SZ: What surprised you in the process of writing this book?
EL: It’s the first book I wrote in company with other writers. John Green, Maureen Johnson and Scott Westerfeld sat next to me in coffee shops during much of the writing process. John kept telling me to miss my deadline and make it better. To not rush in order to pay my bills, but to take the time to write the best book I could write.
SZ: Frankie is a teen girl who is cute and not unpopular, but also not satisfied to accept those things as her only source of social and personal power. She doesn’t want to be dismissed. That’s something I really connected with—being or feeling dismissed is pretty much a one-way ticket to outrage for me. As a girl and a woman, I’ve felt dismissed due to apparently not being pretty enough, and Frankie sometimes feels dismissed in part for being great looking. (Message: you can’t win?) In my expert opinion, you’re a hot tomato (as my stepdad would have said), a loaded potato (as Frankie would say). Also, you are a PhD holder with a formidable brain. For me, something changed in the transition from sixth grade to seventh and all of a sudden being smart was a bad thing rather than something to be proud of. It became an insult and a source of shame, which was totally confusing. When you were Frankie’s age, did you ever find yourself trying to hide your intelligence? As an adult, have you ever found your intelligence misjudged because of your looks?
EL: I have never hidden my intelligence.  I have doubted my intelligence.  Or, I have been secure of my intelligence and doubted other people’s evaluation of it. People have sometimes misjudged my intelligence because I have behaved in a silly fashion (which I heartily enjoy). Or because I have dressed in a provocative manner (which I also enjoy). But I can take responsibility for those situations. What angers me is when people have misjudged me because of my youth (back then) or because of my gender.

SZ: It seems that books can be similarly misjudged. I’ve always thought that your books are like Frankie—formidably brainy in adorable skin. Because the stories are fun and entertaining, the intelligence within them might be overlooked. Was being a finalist for the National Book Award validating in that regard?
EL: Oh, it is very nice to be validated by the patriarchal establishment. That is what Disreputable History is about, after all.  But I try to interrogate it for myself as well.  Am I really more proud of what I did because I got a shiny medal from a longstanding institution? Is there a way to think about my work that is completely or at least partially separate from all such institutions — the National Book Foundation, the bestseller list, the American Library Association, etc?
SZ: Great food for thought. I love the ending of the book—Frankie is left dealing with the consequences of her choices. Not all of them are happy, or ideal, but she accepts them and seems to recognize the universal truth that every choice you say yes to implies a no you’re saying to something else. Was it tempting to tie things up a little more neatly?
EL: I am incapable of tying things up neatly. It is my fault and my strength.
SZ: I hear you, sister.
If you don’t already have your very own copy of The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, you need one. It recently came out in paperback, which is under $10, or for just a few dollars more you can own the hardback with the original cover (which I prefer to the paperback, myself). Some links:
E. Lockhart online
Follow her on Twitter

hardcover

Shop Indie Bookstores

E.’s latest!