Edwidge Danticat keeps a little notebook for her two daughters, filling it with instructions and advice for them to read one day, when she’s gone.
It’s one of the ways Danticat has found to “wrestle with mortality,” she writes in her new book “We’re Alone.” In a way, as a friend of hers pointed out, the volume of essays is a lasting letter to her girls.
The Haitian American author — beloved for novels like “Breath, Eyes, Memory” and “The Farming of Bones” as well as her memoir “Brother, I’m Dying” — is also a masterful essayist at the top of her game. In “We’re Alone,” she braids together childhood memories, current events in Haiti, the early days of COVID-19 plus hurricanes and rainbows.
She describes the panicked moment she was caught up in a shooting hoax in a Miami mall (an incident that inspired her upcoming novel). And she also honors the writers she deeply loves.
Danticat, who will be in St. Paul for the Talking Volumes series on Sept. 17, talked with the Minnesota Star Tribune about the 11th-grade teacher who helped spark her writing career, “We’re Alone” and the unexpected meaning behind the book’s title. The conversation has been edited for space and clarity.
Q: Before I opened “We’re Alone,” I thought it might be about loneliness. Instead you give these words another meaning: A writer and reader being alone together. What does that mean to you?
A: That idea of “alone together” immediately stuck with me. And it’s something that I’ve traveled with over the years, that intimate relationship between a reader and a writer. It also makes me braver, I think, especially in these essays, to talk about myself. Because, when I read an essay in which someone is being vulnerable and sharing something very personal to them, I always feel, as a reader, “They trust me. They trust me.”
Of course, we are in a world where we can feel alone in a crowd, right? But in this specific instance, I wanted to explore more that intimacy of a reader along with a writer. I think that extends beyond physical bodies. Like you can be alone with Shakespeare, just as I mentioned in the preface that I felt like I was alone with [Haitian poet] Roland Chassagne.