Confessions intern Ben Katz sits down with the now infamous author Robert Logan M, writer of the controversial and surprise best-selling novel Collapse (2016).

23 August 2016

BK: Who or what inspired you to write?

RLM: Thank you for the question. That’s a good question, really good. It gets to the heart of it, doesn’t it? Well, the truth is, I’m not really sure. I guess I kinda settled into it. You know when you wake up one day—I mean, all your life you’ve been a sort of lunkhead, sidling up to Chevys and looking under the hood, vaping in the stalls and groping ass in public? I mean, I’m not saying this is what I was doing all the time—and it’s not what you were doing—at least I hope not! (laughs)—but you know, that kind of thing? And, you know, you get tired of it. You say, I think I just want to shed this lunkhead skin, ditch the gym membership, and try on something else? Well, that’s sort of what I did.

         And no, it wasn’t easy. You can’t just do a 180 and become this literary moment. That’d be sus. So you kinda settle in, check out a few books at the library, buy a new laptop, and then dig in. And your first few efforts aren’t very good—I mean, no one’s are. I’d be more embarrassed by them if I didn’t know that’s how it worked for everyone else, too. So I did some months of seclusion, mostly just me, the TV, and the laptop and library books, writing crap. And no, none of it will see the light of day! But that’s what I did. And after that, well, then after that warmup came Collapse.

BK: Were there any particular books—or TV, any particular shows or movies that . . .

RLM: No. I mean yes, I read and watched a lot, mostly to learn what not to do. What did I check out? Let’s see, King’s Tommyknockers, a couple of John Green, some book with “Dust” in the title by that Evelyn Waugh lady, and that first one.

BK: Um, Evelyn Waugh was a man, and—

RLM: She was? Well, that explains it.

BK: And do you mean Waugh’s first book? I think that was maybe . . .

RLM: No, I mean the first novel. About the knight and the windmills and the tinpot hat.

BK: You read Don Quixote to learn about writing?

RLM: Kinda, but backwards. I learned what not to do.

BK:  Ah. So, how would you characterize your writing style?

RLM: (Laughs for some time.) Well, not like those!

Okay. Well, I’m just gonna say that your popular media inspired me to a new level of decadence. I mean, I’m like a Darkseid MMA version of the WWE. You know the word “turpitude?”

BK: (nods)

RLM: Like that. I like the word a lot, not just for its meaning–for its rhyming derp-iness. It sounds so silly, but it’s so . . . not.

BK: Would you call this a style or a description of your subject, your content?

RLM: Both. One lies on top of the other.

BK: Say more.

RLM: Okay, I can spell it out some. Collapse obviously has “turpy” content, you know? Coprophagia, neonatal indenturement, post-capitalist despondency, IIED, body horror, hypnopompia. But then it’s delivered in a “derpy” style, the kind of thing my old red-blooded man-boy self would get off on. I’d’a eaten it up, laughing off its obvious skank. But that very laughter, that response? That’s the thing that echoes downward, names something else.

BK: “Names something.”

RLM: Yeah.

BK: “Names something.”

RLM: Yeah.

“BK: Okay. What are you currently reading?
RLM: Rebecca Yaros, The Fourth Wing. It’s YA romantasy.
BK: You are not.
RLM: You’re right. I burned eleven copies of it in a ritual …”

BK: Are readers buying Collapse because they are laughing man-boys or because they sense that “something else” which is deeper?

RLM: What do you think? 

BK: I’m just asking. Let’s try another question. Who is your favorite writer and why?

RLM:  You probably expect me to say someone like Burroughs or Palahniuk or Bataille or Bazterrica or Stokoe. Of those, only Bataille is possibly approaching what I’m doing. So no, none of them.

BK: Actually I was thinking you might mention Jared Diamon–

I’m going to go with, um, Ford Madox Ford for deliberately ruining reading. In The Good Soldier, he tells us right away who we should have sympathy for, and then he completely ruins the characters as he tells us about them. We end up hating everyone. Perfect.

BK: Did you read that in your Lunkhead Years or during your seclusion period?

RLM: (does not answer)

BK: Did I say something wrong?

RLM: What other questions do you have?

BK: Okay. What are you currently reading?

RLM: Rebecca Yaros, The Fourth Wing. It’s YA romantasy.

BK: You are not.

RLM: You’re right. I burned eleven copies of it in a ritual to inspire the writing of Collapse.

BK: Why eleven?

RLM: That’s as many used copies as I could find.

BK: What are your three favorite books?

RLM: You just keep asking the same question, don’t ya? You keep thinking something has inspired me, that something in this culture is somehow another author of my work.

BK: Not at all. I just think readers would be interested to—

RLM:  –To know my “inspiration.” Inspiration can come from within. You know? Maybe I brought it with me. Maybe I birthed it myself. Can you understand what I was doing in my seclusion—my writing chrysalis—for nine months?

BK: You mean with your tinpot knight, reruns of 30 Rock, and Evelyn Waugh?

RLM: Are you mocking me?

BK: No, I’m sorry. You just seem to be getting defensive, and I guess I was giving some back. I apologize. And yes, I guess I do think we are at least partly the products of our culture. We can’t help but be influenced.

RLM: And as I’ve explained, that can be a contrarian influence.

BK: In some cases, of course. Are you saying that Collapse is a complete counter-narrative to the entire culture?

RLM: No. It insinuates itself pretty erotically into our more discomforting beliefs.

BK: (waits)

RLM: But that’s not the same thing as “influence.” It’s a psychological condition—but since you all share it, a sociological one, a story you keep telling yourself, even with its hypocrisy and lies. I see these; I give you a story that tweaks those sore spots, arouses unwanted attentions.

BK: I’m supposed to ask you your three favorite movies.

RLM: You’re not gonna do that. You’re gonna ask what you want to ask.

BK: What’s your favorite song of all time?

RLM. (pause) “White Christmas.”  Crosby.

BK: Why “erotically”?

RLM: I don’t know. Bing’s pretty hot, especially when he got older.

BK: No, what’s erotic about a narrative that—

RLM: And “White Christmas” is just like the laughter around reading Collapse. They’re both responses to and denials of that downward echo, that intimacy you refuse but also live. Shit. You can’t put enough sugar on something like this and expect it to stay put. All you get is a pile of saccharine with wet rat orgasms underneath. You literary types laugh at me; the man-boys laugh at Collapse and the prigs protest it; the old 78 spins in a victrola over and over since 1942. They’re not even denials; they’re confessions.

BK: Well, that sounds very clever, but –

RLM: Why don’t you ask what you wanna ask?

BK: You keep talking about culture and psychology like it’s not yours. “Your media,” “this culture,” “you all share it.”

RLM: And there’s nothing better than sticking that tongue down into the sugar and tasting, is there? To prove to yourselves that it’s sweet enough, anyway. “See,” they all laugh, “everything’s fine.” And so you’ll snuggle in on a sequel, too.

BK: In 1972 you were born “Robert Logan Martin” outside of Sandusky, Ohio. (pauses) Where is he now?

RLM: (laughs) Right in front of you. Of a sort. Robert Logan M now. Probably Robert L M for the next book. Not so much of that Sandusky lunkhead left, as I said. Do you really have to know more? Just the shell of a name. Now I’m a writer.

BK: (laughs) Of course. Of course.

RLM: (smiling, relaxed again) Content?

BK: Sure. Um, what advice would you give to, um, young writers?

RLM: Are you flirting with me?

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