Check In: Curtis Sittenfeld

Pushkin.

Hi.

How are you?

I'm good.

How are you?

Good.

Thank you for doing the chipper exchange you're now hearing is between me and Curtis Sinfeld, best-selling novelist and author of books like Prep, American Wife, and You Think It, I'll Say It.

Nice to see you.

Nice to see you.

Although Curtis and I live in the same city, I'm seeing her over a Zoom call.

We sometimes ask guests on the show to talk to us from a small closet where the sound quality is best, but that isn't the case today.

Curtis Sittenfeld is seated at her desk.

Her writer's desk.

When I heard that we were going to put Curtis Sittenfeld in a closet, I was like, nobody puts,

that would be a shame to all podcasting

everywhere.

Curtis and I are going to talk about her latest novel, Rotum, right after the break.

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I'm speaking with Curtis Sittenfeld about her novel Rotom, which deals with many of the themes that we explore on heavyweight, things like returning to the past to change it, and the question of what our lives might have been like if we'd made one decision differently.

Rodham is a novel about what Hillary Clinton's life and political career might have looked like if she had never married Bill Clinton.

So in real life, he proposed twice and she said no.

And then she said yes the third time.

And I imagine what would have happened if she had said no the third time as well.

And that's when the timeline bifurcates and it becomes an alternate history.

Yes, exactly.

After 2016, it felt like people did not want to hear anything more about Hillary Clinton.

But you had the opposite reaction.

I wanted to hear 400 pages more about her.

Yeah, no.

Well, I think that

it's very strange when she

makes a public statement or does like a prominent interview, there almost always will be this backlash where people will kind of say, like, go away.

And

which I don't, it's hard for me to think of any parallel that exists.

for a man in the public eye or a man who's held public office.

You know, like we're almost saying, like, does this woman deserve to exist?

Does she deserve attention?

Does she deserve a public voice?

And it's kind of like,

that is ludicrous that that's like the starting question.

I mean, like, you don't have to read a book she writes or listen to a speech she gives, but like, she's entitled to write them and she's entitled to speak.

I don't have strong feelings about any of this.

Yeah, you know, I was struck in reading the novel by the fact that it is written in the first person.

You know, you are the eye of the novel.

You are Hillary.

And even hearing you talk about her right now, it feels like

there is this identification that you feel with her.

And it's almost as though you have a certain kind of like, you know, love for her.

Oh, yeah, I definitely do.

I mean, I've never met her

and I think it's relatively unlikely that I will, but I certainly respect and admire her.

And I feel like the person that I think she is based on everything I've read is really different from the public image of her in a way that does kind of hurt my heart.

Yeah.

Yeah.

It just, I guess it underlines just how weird it is to have a public life in that way.

Which I actually think that's one of the things that I'm really interested in, where I'm very interested in the sort of intimate moment of these really famous people.

Like it's almost like being interested

in what we'll never see, what the public never sees.

Yes, yes.

And I mean, on that note,

I would like to ask you to read a passage from your novel that definitely qualifies as one of those intimate private moments.

Okay.

And I'll just say that part of the pleasure of this passage is in imagining the real Bill and the real Hillary speaking the dialogue that you've written for them because we have such a strong mental image of who they are.

So, okay, so again, in the alternate universe of the book, Hillary and Bill never get married.

Bill leaves politics to become this rich tech.

dot-com mogul in San Francisco, and Hillary goes on to have this impressive political career.

Yes.

And the passage I'm going to ask you to read takes place in 2005 as Hillary is gearing up to run for president in 2008.

And she runs into Bill by chance at an event and they reconnect.

And a couple of weeks later, Bill invites her over for dinner at his penthouse.

They're both single and Hillary hasn't had sex in a long time and she's excited because she thinks Bill has invited her over to sleep with him.

Yeah.

But things don't end up going the way that she expects.

So you're going to read this passage and just a small heads up for those of you listening with kids, there are some bad words, some famously bad words that we are not going to bleep.

So without further ado, we'll pick it up just when Hillary arrives.

Bill's apartment was a penthouse in Knob Hill.

When I stepped off the dedicated elevator, which itself was large enough to include a bench and fancy enough to include a chandelier, I was in a vast open space that led on the left to a kitchen and on the right to a living room.

Straight in front of me were floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the financial district, including the Trans-America building and beyond it, the San Francisco Bay, the Bay Bridge, and Oakland.

You made it!

Bill approached from the kitchen, wearing a royal blue apron over a dress shirt and jeans.

He really was incredibly handsome, tall and slim and white-haired with that familiar smile.

I set my purse next to a red porcelain lamp and he leaned in to hug me and kissed the top of my head.

Upbeat classical music played in the background, no doubt on a state-of-the-art sound system, and the sweet smell of something baking filled the air.

I said, quite a view you've got.

He grinned.

Not bad for a boy from Hope, Arkansas, huh?

I grinned back at him.

Does that country boy shtick still work for you?

Better than ever, but not with everyone, apparently.

You look great, by the way.

You look great, too, I said.

California must agree with you.

He opened a bottle of his own wine, a red, saying, it's one of my favorites, very velvety, but structured.

When we made eye contact, he added, does saying that make me sound sophisticated or like an asshole?

Why choose, I said, and he laughed.

I'm teasing, I said.

You don't sound like an asshole, and I'd love a glass of something velvety and structured.

After he'd poured, we clinked our glasses together.

To the past and the present, he said, and I said, here, here.

I sat on a bar stool at the granite island while he stood facing me with the bay behind him, dicing an onion on a cutting board.

Using the knife, he swept the diced onion into the pan and it sizzled a little.

When did you learn to cook?

I asked.

After my second divorce, I decided not to be one of those bachelors with nothing but a six-pack and a jar of mustard in the fridge.

Turns out cooking is kind of fun.

I'll bet I haven't touched a stove in a decade, I said.

Would you like for tonight to be the night?

He said.

Yes, I thought, but not with the stove.

I said, you look like you've got things under control.

What are you making anyway?

You ever had a ratatouille tart?

Full disclosure, the crust that's in the oven as we speak was made earlier today by my housekeeper Elena.

I still want you to be impressed by my slicing and dicing, though.

I'm very impressed, I said.

The smell smell of the baking crust competed pleasantly with the savory scent of the simmering vegetables.

I was hungry, but I didn't want to be full if we had sex.

I took another sip of wine and said, do you remember when you told me about going home with Kirby Hady for Thanksgiving your first year at Yale?

You were very impressed that his parents' penthouse had its own elevator.

And look at you now.

It's funny, he said, because I don't think I ever ride up here without recalling that.

He looked at me intently.

What you and I had, he said, I never found that with anyone else.

I mourned it for so many years.

I did too, I said.

And it seems like it should be weird as hell to be standing across from you right now, he said, but it feels totally natural.

I agree, I said.

The intensity of his expression made it difficult to maintain eye contact.

And with feigned casualness, I said, tell me about a day in the life of Bill Clinton.

I've got a yoga instructor who comes here three mornings a week at seven.

Is this too much detail?

I shook my head.

So I arrive in the office at 9:30 or 10.

I've got a driver.

His smile was sheepish.

I'll confess I feel self-conscious around you with regard to some of this, but a lot of our dreams came true, didn't they?

We've both risen to the highest level of our fields, or you're damn near it.

My God.

If you do become president, Hillary, it'll be the greatest fucking thing.

You'll be so good at it.

And just think of making history like that.

I can't pretend I won't be envious.

Honestly, I try not to think too much in those terms, I said.

It makes me feel as if everything that comes out of my mouth should be written in calligraphy with a quill pen, which is immobilizing.

I'm not, you know, George Washington.

Not even Georgia Washington?

Bill grinned.

Is that George's sister?

I asked.

Or him when he lets his wig down, he replied.

We were both smiling.

I watched as Bill shook some oregano into his palm and dropped it into the mixture.

Hey, I hear that Tara and Pete Forgaude held a fundraiser for you at their house last night.

News travels fast, I said.

The Forgaudes are terrific, he said.

I was invited, but I had a conflict and I thought, hell, I get you all to myself for dinner tonight.

There was a happiness I felt in this moment.

a pure, warm, unambivalent animal happiness.

I just really, really enjoyed being in Bill Clinton's company.

And then sitting there on his bar stool, listening to his classical music, I thought, what if I didn't run for president?

What if I didn't even run for Senate again after this term?

Let some other woman make history while having her clothes and voice and intellect and voting record picked apart.

Let me have great sex and stimulating conversations.

Let me travel to foreign countries not to to meet with dignitaries and eat chicken in ballrooms, but to swim in fancy pools at expensive hotels and read novels while lying on enormous mattresses.

Let me be a well-paid lawyer or consultant or lobbyist.

Let me be Bill Clinton's girlfriend again.

Let me finally be Bill Clinton's wife.

Aloud, I said, That's true.

You do get me all to yourself tonight.

This is when he said, I have a story that I think you'll appreciate.

He reached for the wine bottle and refilled my glass.

You may have heard that I've started a foundation.

We're still getting our sea legs, but we're focusing on all the big issues, climate change, poverty, biomedical research.

18 months ago, I hired a woman named Kira Duncan to run the foundation.

She has a stellar record, went to Stanford for undergrad and business school.

After B school, she worked for a gay rights advocacy group.

So I assume she's a lesbian, even though she's gorgeous.

Long red hair, milky white skin, very slender.

Really?

I thought.

Long red hair, milky white skin, very slender now.

Riley, I said, I've heard that it's possible for a woman to be gorgeous and gay at the same time.

He laughed.

Just wait.

Now, I'm not usually in the foundation office, but Kira and I talk five, six times a week.

She's very on the ball, always prepared, a tireless worker.

In a a lot of ways, she reminds me of you, and she's pretty buttoned up about her personal life, but bits and pieces emerge.

She does indeed have a female partner, a gal named Louise.

We, Kira and I, go to Haiti together to meet with Dan Jacobs, who runs Global Health Mission.

Do you know Dan?

Yes, I said.

GHM does wonderful work.

When Kira and I are in Haiti, he went on, she tells me she and Louise want to have a baby.

They're going back and forth about who should carry it and who the donor will be, if that's not the quintessential modern problem, huh?

Well, there have always been divisions of childcare, I said.

Although I was speaking in what I hoped was a normal tone, my wariness was increasing.

I wanted to go back just a minute or two to when he'd said, I get you all to myself.

Now, I've met Louise by this point, he continued, and she's smart, but a tough customer, very butch.

A few weeks pass, and Kira and Louise invite me over for brunch and say they have something to ask me.

They've decided Kira will carry the baby and they want me to be the sperm donor.

Remind me how old your kids are now, I said.

Alexis is 26 and Ricky is 29.

That was a consideration.

Absolutely.

How would this look to them?

Ricky is very relaxed, very accepting, but Alexis can be judgmental.

I say to Kira and Louise, let me take a week to think about it.

Why did I so dislike the turn our conversation had taken?

Was it jealousy, the reminder of my age, or the reminder of Bill's narcissism, as if his sperm, his 59-year-old sperm, was uniquely worthy?

The day after brunch, Kira calls me up sobbing, he continued.

She's crying so hard I can scarcely understand what she's saying.

But I make out that Louise has accused her of wanting me to be the donor as a way of creating intimacy with me.

Kira says, I felt so angry when Louise said this.

I went for a run, just feeling furious.

And that's when I realized she's right.

I'm in love with you.

Kira offers to resign, effective immediately, which I don't allow.

Wow, I said, where do things stand now?

At least the mystery of why I disliked hearing all this had been solved.

We're taking things slow, just enjoying being together, not rushing into any decisions.

Wait a second, I said.

You're in a relationship with Kira?

She's not big on labels, Bill said.

And here she is, this sexually fluid individual.

She hasn't dated a man since she was a teenager.

But the energy between us, the connection, it's truly incredible.

Kira's extraordinary in the way she sees the world, her creativity and compassion.

Hopefully she'll pop in later tonight, and I can introduce the two of you.

She'll pop in tonight?

I asked.

He looked at his watch.

She has a dinner meeting, so probably not before nine.

And she is or isn't pregnant.

For now, we've hit pause on that, he said.

We've got a trip together to Namibia in November, and we'll discuss it after we get back.

One of the most important lessons I've learned in life is this.

Do not preemptively take no for an answer.

Do not decide your request has been rejected before it officially has.

As with so many other lessons that involve assertion, this one applies far more to women than men.

Thus I took a sip of wine and said, surely you and Kira aren't monogamous.

He squinted.

Your tart smells delicious, I said.

But just to give ourselves time, let's go to bed now and eat afterward.

He blinked, then smiled a little, questioningly.

For old time's sake, I said, for fun, with no strings attached.

I'm certainly flattered, he said, and surprised.

Are you?

I asked.

Hillary, you know you've always, always held a special place in my heart, he said.

Having you in my home now, it's a true joy.

I've thought about you so many times over the years.

Then he said, For anything physical to happen between us, that's just not where I am.

So now my request had been officially rejected.

There were other things I thought in this moment and later, but the main one was what a giant fucking waste of time and energy it had been to worry over the acquisition of condoms and lubricant.

This was the man for whom, not five minutes earlier, I'd pondered chucking my presidential aspirations my entire career.

Setting aside what was wrong with him, what was wrong wrong with me.

I heard myself ask, what is it about that story of you and Kira that made you think I'd particularly appreciate it?

His tone was wary, but cheerful.

He couldn't discern if we were moving away from or deeper into a fraught topic, as he said.

The feminist angle for one thing.

Sisters are doing it for themselves.

And her directness, her lack of gamesmanship.

Do I mean gameswomanship?

He smiled.

I remember how frustrated you felt by the narrow expectations for women when we were in law school.

And what did you want from tonight?

I asked.

Why am I here?

He bit his lower lip, and I could see that my opinion mattered to him, that he sincerely wanted my approval, or at least feared my opprobrium.

But hadn't this been Bill's genius as a politician, that he was this way with everyone?

And it was always sincere.

He said, when two old friends have the chance to catch up, that's something I value more and more as the years pass.

And I thought we were having a nice time.

Old friends.

It was hard to know which word was more insulting.

Then he added, I also wanted to float the idea of you joining my foundation's board.

There can be a shortage of female leadership, the female perspective in these parts, but God knows I didn't mean to be confusing.

I said, just out of curiosity, how old is the oldest woman you've slept with?

I don't see what that has to do with anything.

45, I said, 40.

Evangeline was 44 when we separated last year.

He bowed his head.

If I gave you the impression this dinner was romantic, I'm sorry.

In the last few days, did it cross your mind we'd have sex tonight?

Given the inherently loaded nature of the question, I asked asked as neutrally as possible.

I just, I wasn't thinking in those terms, he said.

What with being in a brand new relationship?

The oven timer beeped then, and we didn't speak as he slid on an oven mitt, opened the glass door, and removed the crust.

He set the crust on a stove burner.

We still didn't speak as he began spooning the ratatouille into the crust.

And finally, when he was finished, he said, that doesn't look half bad, does it?

But I didn't want to eat his food.

I didn't want to join his board.

I didn't want to be in his penthouse.

And I didn't want to be in his presence.

It wouldn't, I thought, be difficult to remain on good terms with him.

Salvaging this moment would require little effort.

Perhaps in the future, he'd even feel a guilt he wouldn't want to name and be more generous in donating to my campaign or more helpful in soliciting others.

But backpedaling, restoring the goodwill between us would be difficult for me.

Putting up with Bill Clinton's bullshit, hadn't I earned the right never to do it again?

Sometimes speaking your mind is expensive, which doesn't mean it's not worth it.

There's nothing you did wrong tonight that's provable in a court of law, I said, which is your specialty, Bill.

But I do think you led me on.

It's funny because all those years ago when you proposed, I remember thinking, on the one hand, he'll never be faithful.

But on the other hand, he'll never not be attracted to me.

He just loves women and sex.

But now I think I was wrong.

If we'd gotten married, you eventually would have traded me in for a new model.

His face flushed as he said, what our marriage would have looked like is immaterial, and you're the one who made it immaterial.

I was prepared to do my best as your husband.

Was my best?

Is my best perfect?

No.

Was it enough for you?

Also no.

Therefore, the subject of whom I've chosen to be involved with since is none of your business.

Except, I said, for your decision to invite me over for an intimate dinner.

I swept my arm through the air, taking in the tart, the music, the view.

Is it that you wanted to leave your options open, but now that I'm here, I look too wrinkly to you?

Is my skin not milky white enough?

He bit his lip.

He actually had two bitten lip modes, one pensive and one angry.

And this was the angry version, and said, you've never understood that you can't litigate the human heart.

Spare me.

I slid forward on the bar stool.

I know we didn't get through a typical day for you, but I hope that on a regular basis, seeing a therapist is part of your schedule, because without question, you're a narcissist.

And I mean that in the clinical sense.

What diagnosis would you give to a woman who tries unsuccessfully to seduce a narcissist?

If he wasn't shouting by this point, he was close.

Fuck you, I said.

I believe I made it clear I'd rather not, he said.

You know, I said, if you're trying to humiliate me, I am ashamed of myself, but not for thinking you'd find me attractive.

I'm ashamed because you've given me so much evidence for so many years about what a piece of shit you are.

And once again, I ignored it.

I stood.

Goodbye, Bill.

I didn't wait for him to respond before I turned and strode toward the elevator.

You think that's how it works?

He yelled.

I welcome you into my home.

And when things don't go exactly how you imagined, you get to impugn my character.

I glanced over my shoulder.

I don't impugn your character, I said.

You do that all by yourself.

If we'd been on the ground floor, my dramatic exit could have been more efficient.

As it was, after reaching the elevator, grabbing my purse off the table and pressing the call button, I didn't need to wait longer than a few seconds.

But any delay as I stood there with my back to him and those enormous windows imbued the situation with a certain absurdity.

Behind me, I heard him say, you've always gotten off on making me feel bad about myself, holding me to your impossible standards, then scolding me when I don't meet them.

You know what you are?

You're a self-righteous cunt.

I looked over my shoulder and said, and you're a spoiled, selfish child.

This is when he threw the serving spoon.

Was he throwing it at me?

I'd never known him to be violent, though I'd also never seen him this enraged.

He hit the red porcelain lamp on the table, knocking it to the floor and shattering it.

I was shocked, and when I looked at him, it seemed he was too.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside, then turned around.

I held the doors open as I spoke.

Did you say your housekeeper's name is Elena?

You're so good at getting other people to clean up your messes.

That was Curtis Sinfeld reading from her novel Rotom.

After the break, I continue to talk with Curtis about this passage and about the real Bill Clinton and the reality of his legacy.

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What I love about this passage is you see played out over the course of about 20 pages the entirety of a romantic relationship.

Like there's the hopefulness at the beginning and the flirtation and the projection about the future, and then it gives way to the dashed hopes and the hurt and then this kind of divorce.

That's funny.

That's an interesting observation, which I agree with and had not thought of before.

My undergraduate degree in literature has really paid off.

This is something that struck me, and maybe this is something that you've thought about more and you could bring clarity to this whole thing.

But in the book, you avoid the Monica Lewinsky scandal, because in your version of history, Bill Clinton never becomes president, so he never has this intern.

But there is a stand-in for the Juanita Broderick story, where Hillary has a confrontation with a woman who accuses Bill of having raped her.

So, in the passage that you just read at Bill's penthouse, when you have Hillary accuse Bill of doing nothing wrong that could be proven in a court of law, and in the next breath, she goes on to say that he's a man who loves women and sex.

How is the reader meant to hear that?

Well, I think there's a question

about

Bill Clinton and like sort of who he is or who he mostly is that exists for the American public.

Like, is he basically a good guy or basically a bad guy?

And I feel like in some ways that question has been discussed, you know, since the early 90s, so for almost 30 years.

And I think the way people answer that has changed during that time.

In the book, one of the reasons Hillary

doesn't stay with him is that she kind of gets this glimpse of

his darker interactions with women and doesn't really want to be responsible for them.

And I think in real life, I mean, Hillary in some ways could not draw that much attention

to

Trump's offenses against women in the 2016 campaign because Trump would always invoke Bill's history.

So it sort of seemed like Hillary was held in some ways more accountable for Bill's behavior than Bill was.

But I think one of the things that draws me to reading and writing fiction is that it like

captures the contradictory nature of

people.

And like so much of the public discourse, I think, you know, like we either like want to worship someone, you can sort of see this on Twitter.

Like it's like, this is the week that we're all going to like worship Jeff Goldblum or like decide he's the best person ever.

And then like, this is when we're going to turn against this person.

And that it's either or instead of that like.

people are contradictory.

And we even recognize that.

Like, I think probably almost all of us have someone in our life where we feel feel like,

if that person weren't my close friend, I really wouldn't like them or I really wouldn't be comfortable with their behavior.

And maybe I am uncomfortable with their behavior and I like them.

And a part of me feels like maybe that's what life is like for Hillary.

Yeah.

I think that heavyweight does.

a really beautiful job that's rare in nonfiction that lets people be both good and bad or like illustrates the contradictory nature of humans.

Like, I feel like so many of the episodes flip something around where the person that we didn't like at first, we get some piece of information that forces us to like them more or maybe vice versa.

Like, yeah.

Wow.

Thank you.

Yeah, I'm so glad to hear you say that because yeah, like, I think it's probably the highest aspiration of the show are those moves.

And

yeah, I don't know if I've ever heard actually anyone say that.

So that's that's very gratifying to hear.

Do you do you know if Hillary has read the book?

I don't think she has.

I mean, I don't know, like if, I mean, I promise not to do this,

but if like two years from now I said, like, I've written a book based on your life, like, do you think you'd be intrigued or horrified?

I would be,

I think,

yeah, I'd think Curtis has lost her mind.

I mean, I think I would read it.

I just want to say thank you, Curtis.

You're welcome, Jonathan.

Thank you.

Curtis Sinfeld's novel, Rotom, is available in bookstores everywhere.

And we'll be back next week with our final check-in of the year, and it's a fun one.

Kaylee, Stevie, and I will be talking about the holidays and baldness.

We'll see you then.

This is an iHeart Podcast.