CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT:
Interview with Brian Wallace Baker

Rappahannock Review Nonfiction Editors: How does the title Sharper on Flesh than Wood reflect the broader subjects and themes of this piece? 

Brian Wallace Baker: When I write, sometimes I intuitively sense that a theme is present even if I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. So when I wrote the line of the essay that inspired the title, I didn’t know exactly what message was being conveyed, but I could sense some weight there that felt important. Reflecting on my piece now and what it says about masculinity, I think the title Sharper on Flesh Than Wood is a comment on one-sided or otherwise toxic cultural views of masculinity, how they are taught from a young age, and how they can be damaging when put into practice.

RR: Throughout the piece, there is a continued sense of uncertainty: “I entered the empty halls, not knowing why I felt so ashamed for something I hadn’t done.” Why was it important for you to establish this voice of uncertainty? 

BWB: I’m glad that sense of uncertainty came through. I’m not sure how intentional that was, but it is certainly true to how I felt as this story’s protagonist. The moment the incident happened, I felt so ashamed, and that shame lingered over me for a long time. But I was, as the piece says, very unsure of why I felt that way. I wasn’t the one who had done something wrong, so why did I feel like I had? All I did was make a dumb joke and then freeze while my joke got out of hand, right? Did that make me complicit? I think this uncertainty is what inspired me to write this piece to begin with. Sharper on Flesh Than Wood is an attempt to unravel the shame and blame and make sense of what actually happened. I’m not sure if I achieved that or not, but writing this piece was very cathartic nonetheless.

RR: What specific internal conflicts in this story were you most interested in capturing?

BWB: There is certainly the internal conflict of not fitting in. As I’ve looked back on some of the experiences I had with my peers at church, I’ve become highly suspicious that many of them thought I was mentally disabled. The truth is that I just had a different family culture, personality, and set of interests. So my deep hunger to fit in is definitely a driving force in this piece. But that leads to a broader conflict that involves the other boys present in the story. I hope that my piece comments in a meaningful way on masculinity and how culture influences, for better or worse, the male coming of age story.

RR: Throughout the piece, you are able to capture what it’s like to be inside the brain of an adolescent boy. What was it like for you to revisit these moments from your childhood through an adult perspective?

BWB: Revisiting these parts of myself has been fascinating. And I think it’s given me some empathy for the boys I struggled to connect with. I was a weird kid. I didn’t speak their cultural language, and they didn’t speak mine. And they were just kids too, trying to figure out their lives just like I was trying to figure out mine. It’s also been kind of ironic, though, to think about how some things about my adolescence are cool now. For example, I didn’t know until a couple of years ago that a huge chunk of LEGO’s customer base is adults, so it’s funny and a little sad to think about the pressure I felt to outgrow things that were perceived as childish at the time. Since becoming a dad, I’ve dabbled in LEGO again, and in general, it’s been fun to participate somewhat in childhood again.  

RR: This piece talks about our human desire to fit in. As a writer, how do you think this desire shows up in your writing? Do you find yourself going towards or against writing conventions? 

BWB: Fitting in is a theme that I’ve explored in multiple pieces, and it’s interesting to see how there’s often a gender component to that as well. But as far as my craft itself goes, I definitely have struggled with fitting in. During my MFA studies, I was the only creative nonfiction writer in my cohort, which meant I had to attend fiction workshops. I definitely struggled to fit in there because I felt like a lot of my classmates wanted me to write nonfiction the way they were writing fiction, with a heavy focus on character development and narrative arc. It was tough for me to sell anything that was a more conventional “essay.” While I struggled to fit in that setting, I’m also very grateful for what I learned from my fiction writing friends. I think Sharper on Flesh Than Wood is the direct result of their advice, and I was able to craft a personal essay that reads like a short story. And it was a lot of fun to write that way. It’s been nearly six years since I graduated, and since then, I’ve started thinking about ways of writing that don’t fit the traditional story-arc mold. I’ve also given a lot of thought to nontraditional audiences and venues for my creativity, such as YouTube. These days, especially with a schedule filled with work and kids, I mostly just write for me, and it’s been fun to let loose and try to shed my inner critic. And I’m gathering a lot of interesting material that I’m excited to polish up and find a home for.