During early quarantine, many people found it difficult to focus on reading fiction, or really anything other than the constant cycle of updates streaming through their newsfeeds. I, by contrast, preferred an escapist approach. I got by vicariously living in book worlds quite different from my own. One of my favorites has been Plimpton Prize-winner Kelli Jo Ford’s debut, Crooked Hallelujah (out July 14, Grove Atlantic).

The novel in stories follows four generations of Cherokee Nation women in Oklahoma: Granny, Lula, Justine, and Reney. From various perspectives, we see the difficulties of living in a devoted but challenging family environment, from the way the oppressive Holiness Church challenges their thoughts to the men in their lives existing in “the weird in-between…not fathers and not not-fathers.” It is a world where the women know “love and mad and love and mad all over again” and where they talk about things “like it’s a little bit of a favorite joke…and a little bit of a sorry memory” they would rather forget. Ford paints it darkly gorgeous, rendering every complex high and low point flawlessly.

What keeps each woman moving forward despite circumstance is the desire for her daughter to have more than she had, possibly even to be nothing like her. This is most obvious with Justine, who after giving birth to Reney at fifteen makes her way to Texas in search of a more prosperous life post-1980s oil boom. The result, however, leaves Reney displaced from her native family. Reney views her mother as “equal parts beautiful optical illusion and fiery hot star” but questions why Justine cannot keep still. As Reney grows into an adult and tries to do the things Justine never could, their relationship only further complicates. “We are together; two parts of some unimaginable whole,” Reney says of her and Justine, but also asks herself, “Can I love anything the way that I used to love the mystery of my mother?” It is a question that has continued to haunt me long after I finished the final page.

Ford spoke with me about Crooked Hallelujah as well as BIPOC representation in writing. Read on to discover the process of writing a novel in stories, how she has been fairing with trying to create in quarantine, and why she believes forgiveness and family go hand-in-hand.    

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RAGG: First, I wanted to ask how you have found trying to write and create during the past few months. Have you discovered anything that has worked for you, or have you felt comfortable giving yourself a break?

KJF: I have not found much that works other than a deadline, and the deadlines I have right now aren’t really for creative work. I haven’t necessarily felt comfortable giving myself a break, either. I want to be writing. But for most working parents, I’d imagine, time is tougher to come by than ever. I hear people talking (like on podcasts or on the internet—not real, live friends) about what shows they are catching up on or how they are working their way through their to-read piles. The idea of time for anything other than what has to happen before we fall into bed sounds like high concept fiction from my vantage point. It sounds lovely! It’s always possible, I suppose, but 4:30 AM requires sleeping at night, and that’s tough right now, too. 

RAGG: The coronavirus pandemic has hit Native American communities in the U.S. particularly hard, both physically and fiscally. As a citizen of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, how have you found yourself reacting to this, and do you wish the media would cover it any differently?

KJF: I have found myself cycling through heartbreak and anger. I feel helpless and give what money I can, support fundraisers in other ways, try to raise awareness. Nothing seems like enough. I don’t have a comprehensive view of the media coverage of the pandemic’s effect on Native communities, but in general, I’d wish more outlets would spend more time discussing the structural issues at the root of the outbreaks. 

RAGG: Recent weeks have also found BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) discussing the struggles they have faced across industries, including publishing. How do you feel about the increased visibility of the term BIPOC as well as the general conversation about pay discrepancies for BIPOC writers? 

KJF: I don’t really have a strong opinion about the term, though I like that it explicitly includes Indigenous people. I have seen some criticism of the term, and I want to better understand that and think about it more. As a mixed-race Cherokee person with lighter skin who lives halfway across the country from the Cherokee Nation, I feel like it is important to do a lot of listening when it comes to things like this. 

I was shocked to see some of the discrepancies in pay. I suppose I shouldn’t have been. It’s pretty disheartening/infuriating/you-name-it to see some of the figures for (even debut) white writers and learn that Jesmyn Ward and her agent “fought and fought” for her advance after she won the National Book Award for Salvage the Bones, which is such an extraordinary book, accolades aside. It’s hard to believe editors weren’t lining up. 

RAGG: Crooked Hallelujah is a novel told in short stories. How did you decide on this format?

KJF: The stories about the women of Crooked Hallelujah came first. But then they kept coming and coming, and it became clear that each story was part of a larger narrative. I could have ditched the story format, I suppose, and mapped out a more traditional novel. Or tried that, at least. But I was always committed to the short story as a form for this book. It felt important to me that each chapter work as a complete movement. So that took a lot of patience and work. And I had a lot of help along the way. My husband Scott Weaver, who is a poet and fabulous first reader; my agent, Adam Eaglin; and my editor at Grove, Elisabeth Schmitz, all played tremendous roles in helping me see the book as a whole. 

RAGG: One of the most interesting things to me about the format was the way that information is revealed in small details to show the reader how time has passed (people graduating from school, people passing away), yet each story could also stand alone. I wondered what the process for creating this narrative was like: did you map things out to keep track or write stories about these characters that were not included?

KJF: I did so many things! My agent suggested I make a spreadsheet that sort of cross-referenced each character and what stories they show up in. I made a family tree. That stuff was fairly early in the process. I’m not a super visual person, so mostly it came down to a lot of feedback and a lot of notes.

Hardest was figuring out where to start the book. Once I got that story in place, it came down to putting myself in the place of a reader who had not lived with these characters for such a long time, and thinking about what leaps would feel pretty natural to the narrative and structure of the book versus what leaps might feel limiting or distracting. 

One reason I like the term “novel-in-stories” is because it, perhaps, encourages the generous reader to both appreciate each chapter as its own complete movement and look for connections between chapters. 

RAGG: The male characters in the novel are often terrible, seen as good for simply not drinking, cheating, or being abusive. What was crafting them like for you compared to the female characters?

KJF: I’ve noticed that I seem to have more affection for (some of) the men of the book than readers. I see Pitch for the goodness that he brings to Reney’s life and their connection more than for his shortcomings as a life partner. 

And in the old cowboy, I see the disappointment that brings him to his terrible, selfish choices, and I feel a little warmth for him as a result. 

I don’t think I can spend much time on a character who I feel is a straight-up villain. I think that for most characters, the more time I spend with them, the harder it is to see them as filling a role in a story, like good guy/bad guy. The women of the book are flawed as well, but because this is a book about them, they get more time to live and be more human on the page. I say that, but then again in the sacrifices the women of this family make for one another, in the way they fight for each other, forgive one another, and are there for one another until the very end, no matter what: I do see them as heroes in this book. 

RAGG: Although most of the stories are told from the perspective or with a focus on Justine, Reney, Lula, or someone very close to them, "Then Sings My Soul" differs in that it concerns a neighbor of Justine's with only a passing mention of her in relation to him. Why did you decide to include this story in the novel?

KJF: I was always interested in telling a story about place as much as a story about this one family. Early in the book, the narrative sticks closely to the four generations of women. As the story progresses and the family becomes more fractured, I think there is more space in the narrative for different voices and different characters. 

Beyond that, I liked getting that little glimpse of Justine from the perspective of someone completely outside the family. Mose sees Justine as a person who is kind to him. And that is so far from Justine’s own self-perception. She looks at her life and sees her shortcomings, despite the fact that she spends a lifetime literally breaking her body trying to make a better life for her family. So I liked having this guy who has a pretty tough life with little hope of much changing for the better, seeing her as a woman who gives him rides and makes sure he has food after his mom dies. I like that for Justine and for the book. It also felt important to let readers see the other characters from that story, Marni and Stevie, later in the book, to see them healthy, together, with a son. 

RAGG: The relationships between humans are poignant throughout but I must admit some of the moments that really broke my heart involved the animals and the roles that they play across stories. Why was this something you wanted to include?

KJF: I sometimes have to make sure I get more than one human in a scene. Animals have a way of showing up in plentiful ways! I think that’s probably a result of growing up an only child in the country. For a lot of years, my friends were the animals around me, and I guess that shows in my fiction. 

RAGG: Forgiveness is an interesting idea that comes up numerous times, often juxtaposed with religion. Was this something you consciously wanted to explore or did it come about as you started to put the stories together?

KJF: I didn’t consciously want to explore forgiveness, though I did want to explore the ideas of faith and belief and how those things can affect people who take them very seriously over the course of a lifetime. Mostly, I was drawn to the relationships between this family of powerful women through the generations. And if families are to maintain relationships through the years, I think forgiveness has to come into play. 

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Rachel A.G. Gilman's work has been published in journals throughout the US, UK, and Australia. She is the Creator/EIC of The Rational Creature, a columnist for No Contact Mag, and was EIC for Columbia Journal, Issue 58. She holds an MFA in Writing from Columbia University and is currently reading for an MSt in Creative Writing from the University of Oxford.