This month, the Debutante Ball is opening the golden door for author Christine Ma-Kellams. And… she brought music to the party!! with her debut novel, The Band.
The Greatest Invention Ever Made
On the first day of class, I like to ask my psychology students a riddle:
What is it about humans that makes us different from all the other lifeforms on the planet?
The kids who paid attention in biology class in high school will say “opposable thumbs” or “language” until I’ll remind them that chimps and pandas have those, and just because we can’t understand it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Recently scientists have decoded Prairiedogese (which, if you’re wondering, means that yes, prairie dogs can talk and yes, they will definitely gossip about you).
A true nerd in the class might offer “binocular vision” until they remember that our favorite predators have those too (eagles, snakes, and wolves, I’m looking at you).
The reason I’m a psychologist and not a zoologist or a botanist or any other kind of -ist is the same reason that I’m an author—I think humans are the most interesting creatures on the planet. And the reason I believe that (even in our current cultural climate of extraordinary division) is because when I consider what makes us unique from all the other animals, what our “Greatest Hits” are as a species, it’s the things we create ourselves out of thin air. When I’m not busy studying real people, I’m busy writing up fictional ones, so naturally my favorite things that humans have made are our stories. Stories might be the most human thing about us.
Being a psychologist and being a writer might seem like totally different career paths with varying levels of requisite student debt and perks (social, financial, or otherwise). However, I’ve found that people who write fiction and those who study “human nature” (whatever that is) are both trying to do the same thing. We’re trying to figure out what makes someone tick. We’re trying to explain ourselves or other people. To achieve this, we take a lot of notes. We rarely become filthy rich from these efforts, but we do get more interesting reactions from strangers at parties once they find out what we do for a living. If we’re really good, we’ll make someone feel a little more understood and thereby a little less alone.
Who You Write For vs. Who Reads Your Book—That is the Question
My debut novel, The Band follows Sang Duri, a Kpop boy bander facing cancellation after his solo hit dredges up old ethnic rivalries between East Asia’s three superpowers. He goes on the run by hiding in the McMansion of an American therapist only to discover that his escape actually leads to increasingly violent interactions between his band and his fans. I didn’t think too hard about who was my audience when writing the book. Now that The Band is finally out there in the world thanks to the good people at Atria, I’ve found that the reactions I’ve gotten to the book almost always ends up mentioning whether the reader themself is a Kpop fan. When this was just happening in reviews, I didn’t make much of it. But then I noticed it also happened in person, during cocktail parties or football watching parties or Bible study or brunch.
Obviously, I absolutely think Kpop fans would get a kick out of The Band. They’re probably the ones most able to pick up on the Easter eggs sprinkled throughout the story that are loosely inspired by real-world idols and events. Maybe if you’re an A.R.M.Y.1 like I am, you might consider using this book to help get through BTS withdrawal during this stint as “military wives” while the boys are completing their service to their country.
But at the same time, you don’t need to know anything about Kpop to read—or like—the novel. When I wrote The Band, I was a brand new A.R.M.Y myself, having just discovered BTS a few months prior thanks to the illuminating powers of public radio and late night television programming. I populate the book with footnotes—sometimes it’s just for the snark, but frequently it also explains something because I believe that an informed reader is better than a confused one.
The curiosity is this: I’ve noticed that this assumption that a novel featuring a Kpop idol would be primarily for Kpop fans might be weirdly specific to this topic. No one ever assumes that Where the Crawdads Sings was only for botanists or Southerners or Southern botanists. If they did, Delia Owen’s debut about a plant-obsessed orphan from North Carolina marsh might not have gone on to sell 15 million copies. Just like no one thinks Lessons in Chemistry is primarily for chemists or celebrity chefs despite the fact that Bonnie Garmus’ protagonist is precisely that unlikely combination of things. Anna Karenina isn’t just for cheating women (or Russians for that matter). If you think about it, entire genres of writing (like sci-fi) might not exist if the expectation is that people have to be experts in, or identified with, the characters in those stories.
My favorite stories are the ones where I discover something unexpected or find an unlikely connection, usually with a protagonist I might never be friends with in real life but then again, isn’t that part of the fun? If I wanted to just read something familiar that I already knew about, I could just read my old diaries. Or the Bible. But in fiction, I want new eyes. I hope I’m not the only one.
Buy links for The Band:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-band-christine-ma-kellams/1143636650?ean=9781668018378
https://www.target.com/p/the-band-by-christine-ma-kellams-hardcover/-/A-89392293
https://www.booksamillion.com/p/9781668018378
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Just For Fun
I don’t have pets because I can barely handle my own children, so instead of cat pics or dog portraits, the closest thing I have are these towel puppies I made during a recent cruise.
[1] Adorable Representatives M.C. for Youth, the official name of BTS’ fandom
Christine, your essay is such a fun read and you’ve really piqued my interest in your book … and I don’t even know what Kpop is 😉
This is a terrific read!