Author Emily Greenberg Returns to Greenpoint for Launch of Her New Book, “Alternative Facts”

Unreliable narrators have always existed. And for centuries, victors have written the history books. Their biases, prejudice and favoritism often shape what they choose to tell the world.

But what do they tell themselves? This is what Emily Greenberg asks in her debut short story collection, Alternative Facts.  

On the cusp of a new Trump administration, surrounded by “fake news” accusations and stark polarization, some believe it’s getting harder to differentiate truth from fiction. But it’s not a new phenomenon. Greenberg investigates this blurry line through the eyes of prominent figures throughout history — from George W. Bush to B.F. Skinner.

Each story examines these internal narratives — and how they impact the rest of the world. Greenberg, who got her start in Greenpoint, revisits her old stomping grounds on January 28 to launch her collection at WORD Bookstore (126 Greenpoint Ave.), which you can pre-order here. We spoke with Greenberg to learn more about the collection, her journey as a writer and even how she used to write for Greenpointers.

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This is your first published collection. What was the inspiration for Alternative Facts? 

When I was doing my MFA in Creative Writing at Ohio State, I found that I was writing a lot of stories that were about public figures — historical figures. So I started thinking more about how they were speaking to each other. All these characters were figures related to “post-truth” in a way.  

How did you start the research for this project?

The first story focuses on Kellyanne Conway. While writing it, I watched a lot of videos of her; I read a book about her conversational techniques. I read a ton of articles about her— and that’s similar to what I did for each of the characters. In some cases, I read multiple books about them. 

It’s not method acting. But I feel like there’s this similar sense of trying to be immersed in this person. I start to feel myself channeling their fictional voice.

Some of these figures are famous; some are notorious. How did you dissect what they were thinking and feeling?

The question of empathy is really relevant to this book, and it’s one that I’ve been asked to think about a lot. It’s complicated. These are not figures I like. I don’t approve of what they do. I really hate much of what they do. I don’t want to be an apologist for these people and the harm they’ve caused, or let them off the hook.  

But at the same time, they are people, and I want to understand them. I think it’s really easy to dismiss people who do terrible things as monsters, rather than look deeper. It is more tragic to me that a human being can do these things — like somebody who has been through loss and still winds up doing something terrible. 

How does the collection explore empathy and how it impacts our humanity?

We are experiencing significant empathetic failures, demonizing groups of people turning a blind eye to suffering. In many ways, empathy is a worthy goal, but I don’t think it’s enough. I think sometimes people pat themselves on the back for empathizing, but then they don’t do anything to change the material conditions of the person who’s suffering. 

Empathy is not really attainable. You can’t really walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. You can never really know what it’s like to be them.  

Empathy, when it’s not combined with action and self awareness, can actually be a pretty dangerous thing. I challenge myself to empathize with these characters, and I’m asking readers to do the same — without excusing their actions.  

Why do people gravitate towards alternative facts? 

I think they’re comforting for people, the “fake news” or conspiracy theories. I think they give people a sense of the world making sense— and that they have some control over it. 

One of my stories follows George W. Bush on The Tonight Show. It’s about the inner life of someone repressing their inner life, and why they do so. To me, there’s a very human reason this character is divorced from his humanity. 

The character doesn’t want to engage with the truth. He instead wants to entertain people. He wants to distract them. He wants them to laugh. He wants them to like him. That is obviously much easier than reflecting about his presidency and what he did.

Tell me why your stories are experimental in both structure and shape.

I’m always thinking: I have this idea that I’m interested in— but what’s the best form for it? 

For the Kellyanne Conway piece, for instance, she talks so fast. It’s almost like she doesn’t stop to breathe. I wanted to write something that felt like that, where the reader doesn’t really get a chance to breathe. A long sentence, a stream of consciousness — and then she pivots, and it’s so quick that it’s hard to follow the logic. 

In 2014, you moved to Greenpoint as a young writer. How did the neighborhood inspire your career trajectory?

It was a great place to be a young, recent college graduate. There were a lot of creative people in the neighborhood. I did a lot of my writing at the coffee shops in Greenpoint, because my apartment was really cramped. 

My mom’s side of the family is actually Polish, so it was also interesting to be in the neighborhood as well. I loved how walkable Greenpoint was. Plus, I checked out a ton of books from the Greenpoint Library and I even wrote for Greenpointers!

I was also in the Greenpoint Writers Group, which met at WORD. I didn’t have a writing community before that. I wasn’t getting feedback. It was very isolating. But this group was free and had a lot of things aimed at emerging writers. 

There was an effort there to really cultivate a community. There, I was around other people who saw me as a writer, supported me as a writer and gave me an opportunity to share my work with others. I would not have become the writer I am without that group. 

How would you define alternative facts? 

There’s an emotional truth to fiction — so in that way, it’s different than a lie. 

I’ve built these fictions out of facts, I’ve taken poetic and creative liberties. All my stories are alternative facts in a way.