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photo: Nicholas Sabin |
John Wiswell is a disabled author who lives where New York keeps all its trees. He won the Nebula Award for Best Short Story and the Locus Award for Best Novelette, and has been a finalist for the Hugo, World Fantasy, and British Fantasy Awards. He is the author of the fantasy novels Someone You Can Build a Nest In and Wearing the Lion (DAW Books, June 17, 2025), which brings a humanizing and humorous touch to the Hercules story.
Handsell readers your book in 25 words or less:
Ever wanted to break mythology by adopting every monster you met? Ever wanted to see a goddess outgrow her own legends and flourish?
On your nightstand now:
The Iliad by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson. This is actually the translation's third time on my nightstand. The introduction into Wilson's process of evaluating and bringing honesty to the epic enriches me every time I visit it.
Favorite book when you were a child:
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. And it remains a favorite book of mine for three reasons: its amazing adventures, those adventures centering on a humble and overwhelmed figure, and its unparalleled understanding that slaying the dragon is only the start of our problems.
Five of your top authors:
The first five who come to mind, whom I will trust implicitly and read anything from without so much as checking the synopsis: Mark Twain, Alix E. Harrow, Kai Ashante Wilson, Martha Wells, and John Steinbeck.
Book you've faked reading:
I can't remember faking reading a book before, so I've just taken the Wilson translation of The Iliad off my nightstand. It will look like I'm reading it for the rest of the interview, but trust me, I'm being duplicitous.
Book you're an evangelist for:
Witchmark by C.L. Polk. Not nearly enough fantasy novels center on healing, much less on how the veterans of fantasy warfare would need to be treated. This is a book equal in its boldness and its gentleness. Polk gets more humanity out of a simple shave than most can wring out of an entire war campaign.
Book you've bought for the cover:
There is an elegance to the omnibus of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach Trilogy. A simple orange line clashing with a green fern, making the vague sense of an "X" and nothing more to signify what is contained. But if you know the wild things that live in that series, and the bizarre government existence it clashes with, it's the perfect cover. I had to have it.
Book you hid from your parents:
Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark by Alvin Schwartz and illustrated by Stephen Gammell. My nightmares were my own fault.
Book that changed your life:
Waiting: The True Confessions of Being a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg. It was the kickstart I needed to be more conscientious of the hard work of people around me. It's too easy to take wait staff or bus drivers or janitors for granted. Some of us pretend they've never taken anyone for granted, but society incentivizes us to tune each other out. Books like Ginsberg's remind me to stay tuned in.
A favorite line from a book:
"The ships hung in the sky much in the same way that bricks don't." --Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Five books you'll never part with:
The books that matter the most to me are those that were vital to the careers of friends. I have ARCs of Fonda Lee's Jade City and Arkady Martine's A Memory Called Empire that I will never let go of. Guy Gavriel Kay's River of Stars was special in revitalizing my love of fantasy tomes and is the only book I've gone out of my way to get signed, so that copy will also live with me to the end. I also have The Riverside Chaucer, with his complete works in Middle English, which I'd have a hard time parting with. And just in case the Internet ever goes down, I have the Oxford English Dictionary that my aunt once gave me.
Book you most want to read again for the first time:
Reading my own for the first time would be pretty novel, and possibly groundbreaking for neuroscience. If you figure out how to do it, let's hook me up to electrodes first.
Books that would be friends with Wearing the Lion:
I have to imagine Wearing the Lion shows up to the playground and immediately starts playing tag with Madeline Miller's Circe and John Gardner's Grendel. Something about alleviating the ache of being misunderstood by folklore for so long. At some point they all annoy Martha Wells's Murderbot into joining them for ice cream. A fine day is had by all.