Molly McGhee is a writer of fiction and essays as well as a professor of undergraduate creative writing at Columbia University. In her debut novel, Jonathan Abernathy You Are Kind (Astra House, Oct. 17), the titular character undertakes a bizarre job in the hope of ridding himself of his crippling debt, resulting in a tale that a Kirkus critic calls “Upton Sinclair meets modern workplace satire—with a lot of heart.” McGhee answered these questions via email; the responses have been edited for length and clarity.

What inspired you to explore the impact of debt through fiction?

Debt has a way of consuming its accruer. Overwhelming debt can be hopeless, and hopelessness can be crushing. Trying to understand inspiration is a bit like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg.

My mom passed away during 2020, and I was suddenly responsible for 20 years’ worth of debt. I was very lonely during this time. I was very depressed. I was struggling to find meaning. And every day, despite all this, I woke up and logged into my job. 

It is physically impossible to power through depression. Your body begins to shut down. An overwhelming exhaustion pervades you. What’s funny about sadness is that it also has a way of interrupting your sleep, so that even though you are exhausted, you cannot alleviate your fatigue. You either find yourself sleeping too much, or not enough, yet both experiences remain deeply unsatisfying, and the oscillation between the two can have really strange impacts on your waking life.

During this time, I was having visceral, full-body nightmares. My nightmares involved a man who was trapped in a Sisyphean cycle of paying off his debt. Every night he would descend into the dreams of others to try to alleviate their sadness at the expense of himself. I wanted to capture the feeling of this nightmare in fiction. I thought of Nabokov and his collection of pinned butterflies. I believed if I could somehow capture and pin down the diaphanous wings of sadness, I could observe it rather than be victim to it.  

What do you hope readers take away from this book?

Every reader is unique, and every reading is different. The goal of my art is to invoke an embodied experience that allows us to transcend the limitations of self. I don’t know if I am successful in that goal, nor what the experience of my readers will be. I guess if I had to stop being evasive, I would say: I hope this book allows at least one person to leave the limits of themself and catch a glimpse of the unknowable other. 

Are there any formative books you remember from your youth? 

I was really lucky. My dad taught me to read very early and, growing up, my dad was the “stay-at-home” parent. It’s not that he stayed at home, exactly. He was a “jack of all trades” with a penchant for farmwork. This line of work was flexible enough that he could bring two feral children with him.

I was a precocious, obsessive reader, but I was limited to the fiction my local library had. I read it all: Vonnegut, Nancy Drew, Wuthering Heights, Crime and Punishment. My dad encouraged me to read everything and I did.

What fall releases are you most excited to read?

Kelsey Norris’ short story collection, House Gone Quiet; Olga Ravn’s novel in translation, My Work; Melissa Lozada Olivia’s novel of intergenerational apocalypse, Candelaria; Mona Awad’s gothic fairytale, Rouge; Isle McElroy’s absurdist People Collide; and Samantha Harvey’s meditative Orbital. 

Nina Palattella is the editorial assistant.