Blessing J. Christopher, author of “Snail Hunters,” interviewed by Erica Frederick
Interviewer’s Note: In the months leading up to the release of Salt Hill 48, our first BIPOC-only issue (due out in fall 2022) we’ll be featuring pieces and interviews from our past contributors of color, each of them immensely talented. July’s web feature, Blessing J. Christopher’s “Snail Hunters,” was first published in Salt Hill 46.
Salt Hill: In a few sentences, can you break “Snail Hunters” down to its heart?
Blessing J. Christopher: At its heart, the story is about a handful of kids who must learn the importance of alliances and stepping out into the unknown. Their failed snail hunting adventure is a form of escapism from the problems at home. Through their actions, they reveal how their innocence shapes their worldview. What happens when something threatens the pure curtain through which they perceive the world? The story answers this question by showing us the internal transformation that usually happens when a child experiences something so profoundly jarring that it almost taints their purity.
SH: What felt urgent about this story? I.e., why tell it now?
BJC: I wrote this story three months after I started grad school. Those first few months were the most difficult and by far the loneliest I have ever felt. The only way to stay grounded was to think of home. So, I decided to write about something I had done a handful of times with other kids: snail hunting. Creating a story about my childhood was how I managed to keep my feet on the ground. The arrival of COVID-19 heightened the exigence of the story. Writing about a bunch of lonely kids trying very hard to build their own little community against the backdrop of a global lockdown was an interesting experience.
SH: There are so many visceral, body-related images in your story. I remember recoiling in delight the first time I read it. What drew you to those images?
BJC: I have come to accept the fact that the body will do its own thing. We often have the illusion of control until an unfortunate event reveals how powerless we are in a shell that feels like ours but really isn’t. We only gain back a speck of power when we set up principles and regulations to govern how others should engage with our bodies, hoping that they respect these boundaries. Children have a unique relationship with the body and its processes. There is rarely ever shame or disgust. A child engages their body with curiosity until they reach a threshold that calls for propriety, which often happens when they learn shame. I like to call attention to the ways the body can fail, and how, even when things don’t work the way we want, our bodies are still incredible and worthy of love.
SH: Another thing that struck me was the flirtation with the otherworldly—the ghosts of Biafran soldiers in “Snail Hunter’s” forests. What role do you feel ghosts and spirits play in your writing?
BJC: The supernatural is a huge part of my work. I’ve had personal experiences that point to the possibility of something deeper than we can ever perceive with our natural senses. Some things are simply beyond human comprehension. There are people who can testify to the hidden layers we can’t see in this reality, but such people are often dismissed as odd. This otherization has a negative impact on my work since the literary world likes to break things into neat genres. Consequently, I have struggled with convincing people that my writing, though full of supernatural experiences, should be read as literary fiction.
SH: Casting children as narrators is a very intentional choice. Why did you choose to write a child protagonist?
BJC: I did it for the challenge of writing a narrator who looks back at past events at a later date. She is an adult now but chooses to recount the story without the insight that often accompanies the passage of time. The POV is one where an adult character becomes a child again. There’s no justification for the things they did and very little explanation for anything else. It is factual, a reportage. I needed the guiltlessness that only children can provide.
SH: What would you like the readers of your story to know about the writer?
BJC: I would like my readers to know that I am something of a history nerd. I spend hours digging into obscure historical figures and events, which always find their way into my essays. That’s not surprising, seeing as I have a bachelor’s degree in history and international studies.
SH: If Salt Hill readers like “Snail Hunters,” what other stories or books would you recommend them?
BJC: My life changed the day I read Petina Gappah’s “A Short History of Zaka the Zulu.” I can relate to this story as someone who attended a Catholic boarding school with a laundry list of appropriate and frowned upon behaviors. I also recommend Josephine Hart’s Novella Damage. If you’re into political epics, then Eka Kurniawan’s Beauty is a Wound is the right book for you.
SH: What’s your next project?
BJC: I am currently working on an erotic novel. I am shopping around for representation. Fingers crossed that someone bites soon.
SH: Finally, what’s your favorite line from the story?
BJC: I love how it starts! “Syl has pink eye” is one of my favorite openings.
Blessing J. Christopher’s work interrogates the relationship between womanhood, sex, religion, and politics. She also writes about the politics of the body and the geographies/borders of marginalization. Her writing seeks to move these lines and reimagine boundlessness as the only form of existence. Her essays and short stories have appeared in The Sun Magazine, Gulf Coast, Guernica, Salt Hill, The Southampton Review, and elsewhere. Blessing’s accolades include a Pushcart Prize nomination, The Writivism Short Story Prize shortlist, the Ebedi Writers’ Residency in Nigeria, the Wole Soyinka Writing Scholarship and Cultural Exchange in Lebanon, and a residency at the Baltic Centre for Writers and Translators in Sweden.