Scaachi Koul’s debut collection of essays, quirkily titled, One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter, is not as gloomy and despairing as the name might lead you to believe. Koul, who works as a culture writer for BuzzFeed in Canada, lays out her fears, outrage and mortifying experiences as an outsider growing up in Canada.
A bestseller in Canada, the book finds Koul speaking of earthbound subjects ranging from shaving her knuckles in grade school, to a shopping trip gone horribly awry, to dealing with internet trolls, feeling out of place at an Indian wedding, and parsing the trajectory of fears and anxieties that pressed upon her immigrant parents and bled down a generation.
In an email exchange, Koul speaks about Indians laughing at themselves, and her comedic writing style.
How did you get the idea for this new book? How important was it for you to have the book's title in its entirety, and sounding so ominous?
Initially, I wanted to write a collection of essays about misery, broadly speaking, essentially a long list of things that make me miserable. Eventually, that evolved into something more nuanced, a collection about the complications of identity and family and love and friendship — certainly still in the vein of things that can make me miserable, but perhaps slightly more hopeful than just that. As for the title, it’s only ominous if you’re afraid of death; otherwise, it’s a friendly reminder that you don’t have to take things too seriously, because none of this junk goes with you when you die. See? Really upbeat!
How long did it take you to write this? Was there a routine of disciplined writing involved, which you can tell us about?
The essays came together slowly, over about two years. I wish I had a disciplined writing schedule, but that’s a far more romantic ideal than I’m capable of. Instead, I wrote when I was angry and the only thing I could do was write, I wrote when I had a few minutes here and there, I wrote when I had nothing else to do, I wrote when there was a deadline looming and I knew I had to hand something in, even if it wasn’t great. (First drafts are never great.)
Do you find many Indians who are as yet incapable of laughing at themselves, or intolerant about a sense of humour? Are things changing among Indians, for jokes about Indians?
No one laughs more at Indians than other Indians.
How are things changing, in your experience, for second- and third-generation immigrant youngsters in the west? Do the jokes make the individual struggles bearable?
That’s tough to determine — my level of comfort as the children of immigrants, or as a brown person, isn’t necessarily reflective of how everyone else is doing. There’s certainly persistent anti-blackness in the world, so even if I’m comfortable, how much stock can I put in that comfort? Besides, whenever one thing gets better, a few others get worse, so I never get too happy when it feels like a couple of things are changing.
Your writing seems to have struck a chord with a whole generation of Indian women. What are your thoughts on being celebrated as an emerging voice that they can look up to?
It makes me uncomfortable, mostly because it speaks to how few brown women there are in the literary scene, or in media.
Was there any part of the book that was difficult to talk about, or which you had second thoughts about including?
No real second thoughts but most of the book was a challenge. I’m the type of person who likes to go for the joke first, and with the book, I had to be thoughtful and emotional first, funny second. That’s tricky for me. I’d rather make the poop joke than get you crying.
Which of the book’s essays is your personal favourite? And why?
Likely the last one. That was a tough one to write, and I was in a place where I didn’t have a lot of closure, and it was the final chapter I had to finish for the collection. I’m just glad I got through it and I think it gives the collection a nice closer.
If you could change one thing about how social dialogues on racism and gender stereotyping, what would that be? You've had an unapologetically candid stance on the matter.
Oh my god, where do I even start with this? I would like police to stop killing unarmed black people? I would also like the airport to stop detaining people just because they’re brown? Frankly, at this point, I will settle for people spelling my name correctly!
How do you switch between being two very different kinds of storytelling – as a journalist and as an author? Who else do you like to read? Which books have had an influence on your writing?
Generally, my journalism has often been first-person focussed, so writing the book felt like an extension of that. I read a lot of David Sedaris and David Rakoff and Nora Ephron and watched a lot of stand-up when I was a kid, all of which clearly influenced the kind of topics I look at and the tone I use when I write.
Please tell us a little about your upcoming projects? How do you expect to bridge reactions between Indians at home, and expat Indians?
Who knows! The experience of the diaspora and of Indians living in India will never be the exact same. But, I hope people like it, and I hope they see something about themselves in it, and if not, I hope they recognize how it might speak to other people.
Is this the making of your career in stand-up comedy? How much of this can we expect to someday see translated into a sitcom on TV, a series on Netflix, or a movie?
Hard to say, do you have a development deal you’d like to give me?
One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter, Penguin Random House India, Rs.399.