Chapter Text
After Brushstrokes: An Intimate Interview with the Author
If you've stepped inside a bookstore, an airport kiosk, or even just on the subway in the last five years, you've probably seen Brushstrokes in the hands of a stranger. The cover, striking in its stark contrast to the contents of the novel, is hard to miss, yet simple: all black with the canary yellow title in cursive at the center, with a blood red stripe of paint right through it. It draws the eye; begs the casual shopper to pick it up. Theo (he's asked me to call him Theo, never Theodore) smiles wryly down at the copy I've brought with me.
"Dog eared and everything," he says, thumbing through the worn pages.
We're sitting on an outdoor patio in Malibu, watching the ocean crash into the shore. There's a nice breeze for September, and Theo's dressed for it, sporting dark corduroys and a white t-shirt with a black, zip up hoodie sitting on the empty chair next to him in case the winds pick up.
“I like the ocean,” Theo says, still absentmindedly flipping through his book in his hands. “I almost ran away to California when I was young. It would have been a disaster, but I almost did.”
Not a lot is known about Theodore Decker’s life before Brushstrokes catapulted him into the spotlight. The little that is known makes for a sad tale, and it's no wonder, having led the life he has, he was able to write such a haunting, sometimes jarring, novel.
When I ask about his childhood, he looks out at the sea. “My mother died when I was thirteen in the ‘03 museum bombing. I made it out, but for a long time it felt like I was still there, reliving the blast over and over again. My father died shortly after, and I was on my own, for the most part. My guardian tried; taught me everything he knew about antiques and restoration, and that saved my life for a while. But, I became an addict, and things were really messy after that.”
He doesn’t expand on his addiction, but that part of his life is probably the most well known, since it was in a rehab facility in upstate New York where Brushstrokes was written. Or, at least partially. Decker admits it took him four years to complete, and that he hadn’t thought anything would come from it, until multiple publishing companies were contacting him. St. Martin’s press won out, with an advance of $20,000.
“If I had known where it would go—how far—I may have asked for a bit more,” Theo says, dragging a hand through his hair.
Decker’s rise to fame wasn’t typical, to say the least, especially in the digital age where physical book sales have plummeted thanks to the rise in popularity of eBooks, easily downloaded and shareable between apps like Kindle and iBooks, over the last decade. That being said, the popularity of his best selling novel may have changed the game.
In Brushstrokes, a sweeping novel spanning nearly three decades, the reclusive author tells the tale of two boys, bound by desperate circumstances, and separated by even worse, who are reunited in adulthood and forced to face their demons during an art heist gone wrong. St. Martin’s Press went ahead with publication in 2021. It was a limited release, with only 30,000 copies in circulation at the time. It soon became a cult hit, but still below the radar, even after Decker was awarded the highly sought-after Man Booker award. That was until renowned and prolific author, Haruki Murakami tweeted about his obsession with the story, igniting literary Twitter and the public alike, to seek out the novel.
In the midst of success (and controversy) surrounding Brushtsrokes, the author has remained intensely private, refusing interviews and, more often than not, flipping off any photographers that have dared try and intrude on his personal life. It’s rare for an author to gain such notoriety from a first novel, without a single book tour or signing to his name, but Decker remains elusive, and seems to shy away from the attention of his adoring readers.
It makes sense when you consider the rumors that have been circulating in the years since, and the author’s refusal, until now, to comment on any of them.
“Would you mind if I dive right in?” I ask, peering at Theo over my drink.
The roar of the sea is almost deafening, but I hear him reply over it. “Sure, sure.”
Brushstrokes has received international acclaim and recognition, which is rare for the first novel of a previously unheard of author. How has that success affected you?
Massively, honestly. I didn’t realize how much would change. Michael Cunningham came up to me at a gala once and said he’d enjoyed the book immensely. I couldn’t leave my apartment for a week after. I don’t know many other writers, and I feel completely out of place around academic types. Fuck, I didn’t even finish college. It’s just—strange, I guess—to suddenly find myself in a world I never knew existed.
You rarely give interviews. Does your past addiction and stint in rehab have anything to do with that?
Yeah. Well… it did. But, I think, maybe talking about it now will help other people finding themselves in the situation that I was in. I was hopeless, and lashing out at the people in my life who cared about my well-being, and I think going to rehab was the turning point. Brushstrokes getting published, and doing as well as it has, is almost just a happy coincidence.
You mean to say you didn’t actively want the novel published?
[Laughter] Nope! I wrote it as a way to process my feelings about adolescence, and the things that are sometimes taken away from us at a young age. I never thought anyone would want to read it. Honestly, I’d sent the manuscript out to a few places expecting only rejection letters. I definitely never thought it would be on top of the New York Times Bestseller list for nearly a year.
Ah, Rowling’s Harry Potter re-release kicked it off for awhile, right?
Yeah, which is fine. Like I said, I never expected any of this.
There’s been a lot of controversy surrounding the book. Do you have any thoughts on why that is?
You’ll have to be a little more specific.
Well, quite a few readers are convinced many parts of the story, specifically the unrequited love story between Henry and Bahar, which is the heart of the book, are semi-autobiographical. Is that true?
Well, I think if I’d been involved in an art heist which ended in murder, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you, would I?
Well, no. But, that’s not really the question I asked, is it?
[Theo clears his throat] I would never want to take away from my readers whatever it is they’ve found in the book, but this love story angle—well. To be quite honest that’s not the story I set out to write. My main focus was friendship, and how it is possible to build your own family. I certainly never saw the relationship between Henry and Bahar as anything other than that—a friendship, and a wrought one at that.
Would you mind if I read you an excerpt that seems to fly in the face of what you’ve just said? I’m sure you know which one I’m speaking of...
Go ahead.
I pull a highlighted sheet from my bag. Decker stretches his long legs out beneath the table and eyes me warily. We are at an impasse, it seems.
In the pink light of dawn, Henry allowed himself to watch Bahar. Silver rings lined his fingers where his arm dangled off the edge of the couch, and Henry counted them as a way to even out his breathing.
He recalled easily Bahar as a gangly fifteen year old with pouty lips and wild, black hair that always fell into his eyes, especially when he was straddling Henry's thighs and pinning his hands over his head in a confusing and, he could admit it now, with all these years between, arousing and never ending game of chicken. Who would look away first? Who would arch their back? Who would sink down against the other's hips?
There seems to be such a sense of longing emanating off of Henry throughout the novel, and although it isn't explicit, it's heavily hinted at that he and Bahar were intimate as teenagers. Do you still stand by your previous comment regarding their relationship being strictly platonic?
I do. I think when we are young, we intensify our friendships because we don’t know what love is, and we do things without understanding what they mean. Yes, the lines blur sometimes, but at the end of the day, Henry and Bahar both only have relationships with women as adults.
Alright. It’s an interesting concept, though, isn’t it, to have Henry leave his wife to run off to London with Bahar in the final chapters?
Yes, maybe, unless you consider the underlying violence of their interactions during their time in London. There’s no love lost between the two men. All they can seem to do at that point is hurt one another.
But, [spoilers for those who have not read the book] Henry kills for Bahar, finishing everything left unfinished throughout their journey together, and thus breaking the cycle of violence that has led to that moment. Bahar never goes back to his old ways and Henry finally realizes he doesn’t have to keep lying to himself about what he wants from life. That’s a sort of love, isn’t it?
Yes, I suppose it is, although I wouldn’t go as far as describing it as romantic.
This has been very illuminating, Mr. Decker. Would you care to walk down to the beach and discuss a bit more?
Okay, yeah.
We make our way down to the sand, toeing off our shoes and laughing as the water surges up to meet our feet.
Did you write about two orphans because of the loss of both your parents at a young age?
I did. I was lucky, though. My guardian was a kind man who gave me every opportunity and bit of love I ever could have asked for, even when I didn’t always deserve it. My addiction was really hard for him, and I think even now that he’s gone, I’m still trying to do penance.
Yes, that seems to be a huge aspect of Brushstrokes—grief and violence and redemption all rolled into one. Was it cathartic to delve into Henry’s grief after the loss of his parents in an accident which he survived?
Incredibly so. I’m very interested in the ways we cope, and the lies we tell ourselves. Henry coped by disappearing into his art. I wasn’t so lucky as to have something I was good at, so I disappeared into people, and when they eventually didn’t meet the unattainable expectations I’d set for them, I disappeared into pills.
And now?
Now I guess I disappear into my writing.
Does that mean what I think it means? Are you working on a second novel?
I would use the word “working” very loosely. I’ve got some ideas, but I’m not sure which way I’d like to go with them.
Any chance it might be a sequel to Brushstrokes? The ending was very ambiguous.
You’ll just have to wait and see.
We meander up and down the beach from there, chatting politely about the nice weather and whether or not we should wait out the day to catch the sunrise, but it seems I won’t get that lucky. An hour later Decker’s phone rings in his pocket, and then he’s ducking away and sliding his shoes on. He apologizes profusely and tells me to print whatever I want to, and that he’s glad we were able to at least get coffee in.
The whole thing feels surreal, and Theodore Decker is every bit the enigmatic whirlwind he's been described as throughout the years, although a lot more closed off than I'd expected. As I write this piece, I can't help but wish him the best, and I look forward to whatever he puts out next, sequel or not. He may be a bit hard to read, and cagey when it comes to discussing his private life, but his writing is stunningly breathtaking, and speaks for itself. We'll see if 2027 is the year of his comeback, or more aptly, the continuation of his meteoric rise.