Children of Paradise: a conversation with Camilla Grudova

1.  Where did the seed of this novel come from? What was your inspiration? 

I was working at one of Picturehouse’s small cinemas; the seed came from my experience there, especially during the pandemic and how they treated workers, and the history of Picturehouse taking over small local cinemas and clashing with unions. Also because there is a lot of literature about film but not about cinemas themselves as an architectural space, and the strange experience of working in one despite so many people I know having passed through cinema work at some point in their lives.

2. We published your short fiction in our first issue and readers might know you from your incredible first collection The Doll's Alphabet. How does novel-writing feel different to short story-writing for you? Do you prefer one over the other? 

I think I am at heart a short story writer and not sure if I will write a novel again. Children of Paradise is quite short, it’s a novella basically. Both novellas and short stories aren’t really accepted in anglo publishing which is tough as that is what I do. One of my favourite writers of novellas is Natalia Ginzburg. Italian literature has a great history of shorter forms. I feel like a novel is a  massive circular piano with too many keys for me to play; it’s much easier for me to tune and colour a short story. Or maybe I would become indigestible at a great length, like being forced to eat a kilo of blue cheese. That said, I do read a lot of novels and admire them a lot, especially big fat Russian and Chinese novels.

3. Each chapter in your novel is named after a film - can you tell us a little bit about how you chose these? Did you weave the plot around the films or did you find films that reflected what was happening in the plot? 

They are all films I love and which have had an influence on me in some way. Each chapter has a flavour or nod to the film it is named after, sometimes the film came first and I worked the chapter around it, other times I wrote the chapter then was like, “Oh, this makes me think of An American Werewolf in London.”  I like restrictions in literature, I am like a slobby Oulipo wannabe. The Doll’s Alphabet was written with a thematic restriction as well.

4. What's your process for writing long form projects like novels? 

Very slow. More metaphysical and difficult than short stories which are quite intuitive and natural for me. I am still figuring novels out.

5. Your work loves to dwell in the disgusting, the profane, the physical. What do you think drives you to these places and is your tendency to this increasing or waning as your career progresses?

Life is disgusting, profane and deeply physical. From working in hospitality and having to clean toilets I know that a majority of people don’t know how  or can’t to go to the bathroom properly, that their eating habits are filthy, that they leak various bodily fluids and smells at all times. I am becoming more spiritual, as I get older, so I think that is influencing what I am writing now, I am vaguely interested in Christianity, in the soul, but those go hand in hand with the body, I want to depict both those sides of life, that relationship, in the projects I am working on now.

6. What effect is living in Scotland having on your work, do you think? 

Certain people and certain places are having an influence on me. I have writer friends I share work with here - they’re all on the same wavelength as me, which is pretty exciting. Plus I have friends like the literary critic Calum Barnes who read the same sort of stuff as me - like Krasnahorkai and Cărtărescu. It’s rare to find friends like that in the world.

In terms of place, I worked at the Cameo Cinema, and now I work at another Edinburgh cultural institution I am writing about currently, but I am not one to depict a certain country or nationality. I think that comes from growing up in an immigrant family. You never feel like you are in any place in particular; you make your own, internal place. 

Alasdair Gray is a big influence on me. Recently I’ve gotten into Elspeth Barker. Edinburgh is a bit of a grandma town, on the periphery of things, and I think that is good for a writer. There are lots of good bookshops in Edinburgh too.

7. What can your fans (including us!) expect next?  

I have another short story collection coming out with Atlantic books, hopefully soon. The main story in it is about semen retention. I have quite a few new books on the go but I work full time as a bartender and projectionist so it’s all kind of slow.