Hypertext Magazine asked Vincent Francone, editor of Open Heart Chicago: An Anthology of Chicago Writing, “When editing the anthology Open Heart Chicago, were you concerned about finding a singular voice or theme that connects all the stories and essays?”
By Vincent Francone
Yes, but that went away quickly. I started the project with the idea that it would reflect my taste, my idea of what makes good writing, but I soon realized that doing so might not be the best way to honor the project. Not to mention, I would have sold few copies that way. The aim of the anthology was to represent Chicago writing, and there’s no one way to write in Chicago, or anywhere for that matter. Soon I started to think about the anthologies I enjoy, which almost always feature diverse writing, and the way reductive understanding of a region bums me out. The whole Latin American Boom thing that made white people think that all Latin American writers pen magic realist stories with spirits and mythical family relations—that always annoyed me, as I know how rich and varied Latin American literature is once you get beyond Garcia Marquez (which you should do as soon as possible.)
To avoid publishing a book of predicable, gritty urban tales or charming but forgettable stories about ketchup-free hot dogs, I expanded the scope. (Of course, some of the grit and one hot dog story made it in.) I cast the widest net I could. If I were to do this again, the result would be very different, which is what I came to realize: an anthology is a testament to the time it was collected. The same mission, the same steps would yield different stories with different tones. So how exactly does one craft a book where the writers all adhere to the same aesthetic? Who the hell wants that?
The answer to the last question: apparently, a lot of people want uniformity. I’ve gotten good feedback from readers, though all of them will say they prefer one or two stories above the others, or that they liked all but one, or that they would love to see more of this and less of that. In short, readers are as particular as the writers I included, and, aside from me (who happens to love every story and essay in the book), no one is going to enjoy every piece. There may be some stories in here that anger, annoy, or just merit a “Huh, okay.” That’s fine—there’s no perfect reader for the book who will “get” the stranger stuff (my favorites). So again, I tried to match some of the odd, surreal, or flash fiction pieces with good ol’ American realism. My hope was that the end result would be a nice mix. And even though we may think we want a uniform anthology of stories that scratch our unique itches, deep down we must know that literary variety, just like in our nutritional diets, is important. How else do we get a sense of what’s possible in art? I hope people enjoy the veggies and the carbs.
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Vincent Francone is the author of the memoir Like a Dog, the collection of essays The Soft Lunacy, and the editor of Open Heart Chicago: An Anthology of Chicago Writing. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Jabber (https://www.
