You set your book in the ’70s.
The ’70s for me were a fascinating time. You could have a suburban development, and across the road there would be a Revolutionary War graveyard. So there was this weird dissonance between the founding of the country and the futuristic evolution. [Also] I was fulfilling some fantasies. I was never allowed to wear Huk-a-Poo shirts. My mother thought they were too clingy.
In your book a terrible thing happens, but because of the era, the family’s den isn’t full of reporters.
I wanted the focus to be on the family. Somebody said to me that what they liked about the book is that, even though there is a “serial killer” in it, it feels like an anti-serial-killer book. The focus is not on the murderer or the media or the hoopla. What’s actually more painful–and more important–is the family and the victim.
One of the things I liked about Susie is that she’s popular.
Again, another fantasy of mine! The major reason why it can’t be accused of being autobiographical at all.
What do you think when you hear about abducted little girls?
I’m glad that somebody is paying attention to them. What I have seen [in the media] has been respectful, by and large, which makes me happy. I think one of the worst things about violent crime is how denigrating it can be to the victims if they survive, and to the families if the kids don’t survive. Maybe some of the attention will help lessen the alienation. I mean, that people can find a pathway to give some comfort to the family, whereas before it was all so taboo that the family really existed in isolation.
Did you do any particular research into families with murdered kids when you were writing?
I didn’t. When I was little I used to look at the pictures that started popping up in the newspapers and imagining those girls’ lives, so I’ve been doing this for a long time.
