As an author, Joanna C. Valente is no stranger to themes of violence, power, loss, and pain. They have also written extensively on tenderness, beauty, bodies, and human flaw, as well as produced considerable web content over the years regarding art and fashion.
Consequently, we could think of no better advance reader than Joanna to sit down with Alais Escobar Henri for a compelling discussion of all these themes and more in Henri’s shocking debut novel, The Voluptuaires, now available from Agape Editions’ imprint Haunted Doll House (official pub date: June 1).
Joanna C. Valente: The Voluptuaires is a really intense, destructive story. I’m still thinking about that ending. . . How did you come to write this story? What drew you to it?
Alais Escobar Henri: The story began when Leza Cantoral posted a call for submissions to her anthology Tragedy Queens, back in 2016 or 2017. The theme of the anthology was works inspired by Lana Del Rey and Sylvia Plath. I’m obsessed with Lana Del Rey, so initially it was planned as a short story that would have movements based upon the lyrics and songs of Lana’s albums Ultraviolence and Born to Die.
The story’s seed was a conversation I overheard two young men having in downtown Denver about strippers and bachelor parties and day drinking that my writer’s ear felt was too good to waste. Then I cast my “tragedy queen”: Alice is a character who already existed in some of my prior manuscripts, so I brought her in.
The meat of the story was inspired by the nature of celebrity scandal. Horrible things happen to and are perpetrated by the characters in this novel; a part of us might feel that it’s simply unbelievable that this could happen, especially in this modern time. Tales about Black Dahlia suspect George Hodel and his family, tales of how Errol Flynn and Charlie Chaplin treated young women, the tragedy of Natalie Wood, and the mistreatment of Brooke Shields were all on my mind while writing this manuscript. And in more recent memory was a flash-in-the-pan rumor (which can still be found via Google) involving Eli Roth, Marilyn Manson, and Lana Del Rey; the truth of that one has never been completely clarified, but it has weighed heavily on my mind ever since.
What was supposed to be a short story of fewer than 10k words, however, expanded into 300+ pages. The deadline for Tragedy Queens came and went, the anthology was published and celebrated, and years after all of it I was still writing and re-writing my manuscript.
JCV: Sexuality, consent (or the lack thereof), the role of women, toxic masculinity, suicide, and coming into adulthood are important themes in this book. Clearly, you want the reader to reflect on many of the societal constructs we live with. What is one thing you would want a reader to come away with?
AEH: I very keenly feel the social traps and constructs of society, of my place in it, what family expects of one, what it’s like to have DD-cup breasts at 14, and the weight of living under the male gaze. I grew up in a world where school teachers singled out students for abuse, where playground bullies went unpunished, and where librarians disliked me slinking around their bookshelves.
There is no moment in my life where I felt I could be separated from that feeling or rescued from that situation. A parent could make a big show of trying to be protective or sheltering; but, either the wolf was gonna find me as soon as they weren’t around, or — I was gonna find it. It was inevitable, and in writing this story I approached these themes in it as if they were just the natural behaviors of very flawed people. Like a documentary. Things aren’t nice, or pretty, they’re speaking and acting as if there is no viewer or God or camera. I witnessed so many “nice people” doing and saying very bad things while I was growing up. Those nice people are currently living rather nice lives, raising nice children who are growing into nice lives of their own.
But yet, there is unshakeable evidence for how toxic masculinity flourishes, hard statistics for how women are often victims of assault, how depression and suicide rates have reached epidemic status among the young. In writing this tale, I wanted none of that sugar coated or hidden. This world is ugly, and it will always be filled with triggers; but, if the reader does not despair, despite my most dastardly attempts to make them do just that — and, if their triggers don’t prevent them from finishing the book, of course — then perhaps they will find it within themselves to acknowledge the ugly truth that is hiding in plain sight even amongst their friends and family, and they won’t crumple in the face of it.
And then there is sexuality. Women in this society struggle with the pressure to be sexually desirable at the right times. Is their pleasure or consent important as long as the man who desires them is happy ? And what of the expectations on men? Young, handsome American men are expected to be studs. They’re supposed to sow wild oats, marry the right girl, plan on children, and be the masters of their own sexuality. If they find they’re bisexual or gay, well, our society tells them that that sort of thing is best expressed or explored behind closed doors.
And then there are the expectations that men place upon themselves and one another, especially when it comes to consent. Perhaps someone is being raped or assaulted and it is more than one man involved. Is there one of the group who realizes how wrong it is? Will he try to intercede, will he join in? What is a man expected to do amongst men?
JCV: There’s a scene where Alice thinks to herself that she’s at the point of starting to “believe that an actual orgasm during sex [is] an unattainable lie.” This statement also goes hand in hand with the fact that Alice seems unable, in many ways, to feel. She says she consents to everything, that she signed up for whatever happens to her, but it also feels as if she is increasingly numb almost to all experience. She appears to want to take ownership over herself and her experiences, and yet she very clearly has no idea what she’s really doing (and why would she? She’s a teenager). Or does she? Was this something you aimed for? Or are you suggesting something else?
AEH: Alice is still in the early stages of navigating her own life story. She is first and foremost filled with youthful bravado and a slightly sociopathic craving for notoriety. She is probably missing her calling to be an investigative reporter or war journalist: to her, any amount of pain is but an inconvenience in pursuit of a good story.
But Alice as a young person is also trying so hard to take ownership of any possible trauma. She wants to be an adult, she wants to be strong and unhurtable. She wants respect and she wants attention. She wants to show everyone how special she is and for a young person, wanting to be special — a need often peddled to young people through TV shows, on social media, through The Chosen One trope in dystopia and fantasy fiction — is a most powerful lure.
Her pursuit of her goals is so doggedly intense that it makes her somewhat impervious to the pain, and to any pleasure, of her experiences. She is only seeing The Story of her pain and hoping it’s more poignant than her mother’s.
And there is another more unspeakable and more dangerous element. Alice is not the ‘perfect victim’ — far from it — and she does have a craving for harm, for destruction, for rot, for apocalypse. She desires chaos just as keenly as she feels herself starved of love. Is there a reason for this? I can’t quite be sure, perhaps she was born that way, perhaps she was formed into it.
Joanna: The story could be seen, in some ways, as a revenge story. But it’s also much more complicated than that — with themes of trauma and mental illness. How did you want to subvert the horror revenge genre?
Alais: I’m so glad the horror translates in this novel. Films like I Spit On Your Grave, Last House on the Left, A Serbian Film, The Night Porter, Salo, Hostel 2, The Seasoning House, and Irreversible have been some serious cinematic moments in my life. These movies struck me as being more truthful than any potential Oscar winner or critically acclaimed, edgy arthouse piece. If you read the crime section of any newspaper — from contemporary articles to pieces of antique newspapers — you will only be faced with the bleakness and cruelty humans inflict on each other. And that’s what the aforementioned films in the revenge horror genre reflect quite accurately.
This novel could easily be as pretty as The Piano Teacher or The Lover, as Closer or The Dreamers, but I didn’t want a satin bow on it. People are ugly, and I want that to resonate. So I very much wanted to put enough highbrow prettiness into a horror novel to make it palatable, and perhaps get a reader knee-deep into something they would not have picked up otherwise.
And make no mistake — I wanted to push the envelope, push the reader into a possible sense of panic over the escalating levels of emotional and physical pain.
You see, trauma is a thing we all grow up with to varying degrees and very rarely is anyone seen or validated for surviving it. Perhaps we tell our mothers, or fathers, or trusted authority figures and they tell us to survive but stay silent, perhaps they don’t believe us, perhaps our friends tell everyone in a misguided attempt to help out. Fiction and horror revenge tales can be our escape where we can forget about how negligible our own trauma is to other people.
Have you ever had a childhood memory pop into your head and been stunned to realize that memory is evidence of something not good that happened to you? At that point it’s like — do I tell someone ? Did it really happen? Should I tell anyone? Does it even matter anymore?
These very questions haunt me sometimes, and that’s an element I introduced to my characters.
And then there’s the element of how mental illness harms us and our families. Mental illness is so prevalent, and too rarely do the sickest among us even get a proper sit-down with a trained professional. Even affluent families with the resources to obtain treatment will often try deflect from the need for it. Many try dealing with mental illness on their own, without outside help; and that stigma can lead to children feeling alienated from their sick parent, or siblings dealing with harms inflicted on each other.
So, in the end, I have a horror revenge tale with just a little more meat on its bones. Just enough to humanize the most disgusting parts of it to us.
Joanna: There’s clearly commentary you’re making on the affluent art world. Why did you specifically choose that world as the family setting?
Alais: Jonathan and Felix are nepo-babies. They come from parents who consume and buy and invest in art so meticulously that art is taken for granted. They understand clearly that art and beauty are commodities. Appreciation of art and appreciation of beauty come with price tags; and because of that, the simple act of asking a pretty young woman if she’s a whore and offering to buy her, is not entirely out of the question for them.
In La Belle Epoque, ballerinas were understood to be available for the pleasure of the wealthy theater patrons, whether they were meant to be fucked or to be artist’s models or both. Painter Eugene DeLacroix, decades before that, spoke frankly about how his nude models were an irresistible pleasure for him. Pablo Picasso delighted in watching his multiple girlfriends fight over him. Patrons buy the pleasure of their artists, and artists buy the pleasure of their models. It felt natural to make my characters products of generations of this legacy.
I am a working, independent artist. I have spent some years participating in art shows, working in galleries, scrambling to get into group shows. I’ve hustled the good hustle on social media to get my art market and gallery appearances noticed, and such. One of my main joys is leaning back and observing how people tick; and in the art scene, it is fun to watch how ravenous art collectors and art patrons still are to consume and buy art.
JCV: Talk to me about the use of social media within the novel. How does it shape Alice?
AEH: Social media is, for Alice, a natural part of her landscape. She comes from the generation that has never known life without it.
It is no joke. Alice is the sort of girl who takes the “likes” on her posts very seriously. Her ratio, her follower count, lighting and angles all mean a lot to her. And I don’t intend to mock her for it, either. This is her generation’s world, and it’s just as important to her as passing notes in class, pen pals, and spending hours on the land-line phone was to my generation.
Social Media is also a fast form of communication. A well-placed Instagram post can throw someone off the scent of what you’re actually up to. Hashtags and DMs are noticed faster than voicemails. And it can happen that you’re so used to how someone is on social media that you forget what they’re like in person, and if you get that far lost into your TikTok or Instagram . . . perhaps that’s where the real trouble begins.
This interview has been lightly edited.
Alais Escobar Henri is a Latina author and lifelong resident of Denver, Colorado, who spends all of her money on world travel, collecting crystals, single malt whisky, Kate Spade purses, and John Fluevog shoes. You probably think you know her well, but rest assured she writes about all of the people you don’t.
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. Joanna is the author of several collections, including A Love Story (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2020) and, most recently, η ψυχή, η ψυχή μαςt/the soul, our soul (Agape Editions, 2023). They are the illustrator of several books, including Dead Tongue by Bunkong Tuon and Raven King by Fox Henry Frazier. Joanna received an MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College and is also the founder of Yes Poetry. Joanna dreams of one day having a flower and vegetable garden.
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