Junot Díaz — born in the Dominican Republic and raised in New Jersey — shot to literary celebrity in 1996, on the publication of Drown. His fans never thought they’d have to wait eleven years for his second book. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao — reviewed in the preceding pages — was one of the highlights of late 2007, widely reviewed and praised, and shortlisted for several prizes and honours. This interview was originally published in Spanish in the online Dominican journal Revista Ping Pong (www.revistapingpong.com).

Giselle Rodriguez Cid: Are you a reader of poetry? (Yunior, the narrator of Oscar Wao, would only expect such a question from a second-rate nerd.) And if you are, who are your favourite poets?
 
Junot Díaz: Of course I read poetry. Can’t exist without it. My current favourite poet is Gina Franco. You need to read her, any way you can.

GRC: In your previous book, Drown, Yunior is clearly your alter ego. How much of Junot is there in the Yunior of Oscar Wao? And how alike are Junot and Oscar?
 
JD: I think the Yunior in Oscar Wao is as much Junot as the Yunior in Drown. But a different side to me. Oscar, on the other hand, is more a creation. Someone I might have been, not someone I was.

GRC: How did the structure of the novel come to you?

JD: I’m always working on structure. It’s one of these formal problems that delight me. The narrative’s slow pushing forward into its own silences, the silences it creates even as it exposes others — all important components. And I liked the two basic threads: Oscar’s life told in a linear fashion, Oscar’s family’s life told in the reverse. Braid these two strands together and you have the novel’s basic form.

GRC: You’ve always likened your work to science fiction, and this is your first work with lots of sci-fi references. Can we expect more of that in the future?

JD: I hope so. But I never know what I’m going to end up writing.

GRC: Do you have your own fukú? Did someone light a candle or stick pins in a doll so that you took ten years to complete your second book?
 
JD: Ha! I’m my own fukú. I’m too demanding, too perfectionist, too lazy. Those curses all come within. I don’t need outside intervention.

GRC: How much do you know about Dominican literature?
 
JD: I know enough. Problem is that unless you live in Santo Domingo year-round it’s hard to keep up with the latest developments. I depend on certain of my friends to keep me informed. Otherwise I’d be screwed.

GRC: Oscar Wao opens with a poem by Derek Walcott. What do you think of his work?

JD: Well, as you might imagine, I think he’s a genius. It was a toss up between him and the other great Caribbean titan, Pedro Mír, but so many people had already used Mír’s incantatory lines, it would have felt like a re-tread.

GRC: What about the Spanish translation of Oscar Wao? The book certainly needs a very skillful translator, who’s familiar with Dominican slang — of both New York and Santo Domingo.
 
JD: The Cuban writer Achy Obejas is translating it, but I have one of the sharpest Dom. . .

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