A Conversation with PEN America Best Debut Short Story Author Grace Oluseyi

On August 22, Catapult will publish PEN America Best Debut Short Stories 2017, the inaugural edition of an anthology celebrating outstanding new fiction writers published by literary magazines around the world. In the weeks leading up to publication, we’ll feature a Q&A with the contributors, whose stories were selected for the anthology by judges Marie-Helene Bertino, Kelly Link, and Nina McConigley, and awarded PEN's Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. Submissions for the 2018 awards are open now.

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Grace Oluseyi is a writer and a book history scholar who divides her time in work and study between London, New York, and the Middle East. At the start of “A Modern Marriage,” Anu discovers something important about her soon-to-be husband, James, on the eve of their wedding.

When the phone rang the night before Anu’s wedding, she was packing the last of her boxes for the move across the bridge to her fiancé’s two-bedroom apartment in Astoria. She was happy to leave her dirty little studio in the Bronx. James’s hipster enclave in Queens seemed like a veritable castle in comparison. Hardwood floors, original paneling. A prewar building, Gatsby era, he told her. A real piece of history.

She should have had the line disconnected days ago but had kept it for the international calls she could not make on her mobile. “Hello?”

“Anu, my darling? Bawo ni?” If the soft, accented voice hadn’t given it away, the crackling on the line certainly would have. Her cousin Tobi was in Nigeria and was not able to come for her wedding, but she had been calling Anu all week, teasing her about the wedding night and advising her on creams and lotions that would make her skin soft and supple and asking her about her bridal finery, the woven red and gold aso oke wrapper and blouse from Lagos that she would wear for her reception. Tobi was excited about this marriage. She had been praying for years for her cousin to meet someone.

“I am fine,” Anu replied, and sat on a sealed box.

“James?”

“Out with the bachelors.” They were going, James told her, to a boxing match in Brooklyn, and then out for drinks. Anu’s eyes flickered over the dingy white walls of her apartment. Just in the corner of vision, a cockroach scurried up toward one of the cracks in the ceiling. They normally weren’t this bold—perhaps they sensed she was moving out.

“Good.” Her cousin sounded relieved. “I have to. . . . I wanted to speak to you, it is very important.”

“Oh?” God, Tobi could be dramatic. “Go for it.”

“I have not even told your mother, not yet. I—well, I wanted you to know first.”

“Are you pregnant?” Anu joked, but when Tobi didn’t laugh, she sat up straight. “Tob. You’re not—?”

“No—hei! Olorun maje,” she swore. “No. I’m not.”

“Is someone sick?” Or dead? She could see them trying to hide it from her until after the wedding, not wanting to upset her, but Anu always did better when she knew things, saw them coming. “Or—”

“Anu, jo, just listen.” Tobi inhaled; she was probably smoking, Anu realized. She tended to do that when she was stressed. She pictured her cousin crossing one dark, plump leg over the other, touching her mouth the way she did when she was nervous about something.

Anu was quiet.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, Tobi.”

Tobi’s next words came out in a rush, mixing and tumbling over themselves like grains from a bag of rice, landing in no particular order. Anu managed to piece together bits as she went along. James was married. Wife in Lagos. Two children, a boy and a girl, both in primary school. Married six years ago, before he left Nigeria to go to school in New York.

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Catapult Books: Where did you find the idea for this story?

Grace Oluseyi: It’s actually a pretty old story, the story of the visa marriage scam—just check the Daily Mail! When I became of marriageable age people would warn me to watch out for African men who’d meet American girls and court them for the eventual access to spousal filing. I personally know more than one person this has happened to, and I thought it would be interesting to take “stock” characters—the scheming man, the deceived woman, and flesh them out a bit.

Why did you choose to open the story with the revelation about James’s wife in Nigeria?

I wanted to make it clear that Anu, from the beginning, was on equal footing with James in that the reader didn’t have to feel sorry for her. We may pity her for other reasons, but not for being fooled—I think that on some level, the revelation comes as a relief, since Anu until then has no idea why he’d want her. The story isn’t sad because James is betraying Anu; it’s sad because she thinks so little of herself.

The story reflects on standards of intelligence; James and Anu both assume James is intellectually superior, yet in the end, Anu understands their situation better than he does. What does this say about a “modern marriage”?

I think the story says quite a lot about a “modern marriage” in an African context; I can’t speak for the rest of the continent, but marriage in Nigeria is for the most part still quite traditional, at least on the surface. I’ve seen women who use subtle manipulations to get precisely what they want while allowing their husbands to think they are the ones in control of the entire relationship.

Can you talk a little bit about Anu’s decision to proceed with the wedding?

Anu’s quite pragmatic, and she views herself as undesirable, for a number of reasons that are discussed in the story. She has no inclination to liberate herself through self-love; she wants to marry someone she perceives as above her level, and someone that she’s actually attracted to, and she sees her chance and does. It’s bit of a twist on social climbing, actually. He doesn’t have to love her; it’s enough that he wants her, dubious as the reasons may be, and he is kind.

How long did it take you to write the story?

The story took over a year to write, and went through several different versions before I settled on one I liked. The story had always been about two halves of a couple using each other to get what they want. In the earliest drafts, James actually hires Anu to be his wife in exchange for free schooling (his institution offers tuition reimbursement for spouses). I found, though, that this version expressed the same idea in a subtler fashion.

How has the Robert J. Dau Prize affected you?

It’s given me new opportunities to hone my craft! I’ve taken a writing workshop and attended a conference since, and have had the opportunity to network in both. I also have made connections that have been very encouraging in terms of finding representation.

What are you working on now?

I’m refining a short story that explores themes of race and class when it comes to the relationship between Africans and Black Americans in the United States. I don’t think it’s something that is talked about much, and the relationship between the two groups can be curiously tense at times.

Finally, where do you discover new writing?

I’m a librarian as well as a writer, so finding new writing is pretty much what I do on a daily basis, both for work and for pleasure. The internet is a gold mine in this regard. Most book sites have a “recommended for you” feature that brings up great titles; I’m also a member of a site that issues free galleys based on my interests. Oftentimes I’ll have access to a book months before release. Blogs are fantastic resources as well.

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