Sarah Orman's interview with Emily Hunt Kivel transcends the typical book promotion by reframing the housing crisis not as a policy failure, but as a mythological rupture in the American story. Rather than offering a dry analysis of rent control or zoning laws, Orman guides us through a narrative where the eviction of an entire city becomes the catalyst for a fairy tale about reclaiming one's humanity. This is a rare instance where a literary discussion directly confronts the visceral reality of displacement, suggesting that the only way to process the absurdity of modern precarity is through the lens of the grotesque and the magical.
The Architecture of Displacement
Orman opens by establishing the stakes immediately, noting that Kivel's debut novel, Dwelling, depicts a world where "the actions had all been engineered to seem so gradual... Nothing shocking, per se. And yet here they were, on the day that the city's final and most radical amendment had gone into place and everyone was out, on the street." This framing is crucial because it mirrors the psychological toll of gentrification, where the slow erosion of community feels banal until the moment of total collapse. Orman highlights how Kivel uses this premise to explore the feeling of being tricked by the very systems meant to shelter us.
The interview pivots to the author's own relationship with performance and identity. Orman writes, "I think my presence is eerier than expected," capturing Kivel's self-awareness about how she navigates the literary world. This admission is not just biographical fluff; it sets the stage for a discussion on how marginalized voices often feel like outsiders in their own stories. Kivel's comparison of her debut to a hyena eating faces at a debutante ball is a striking image that Orman wisely lets stand, emphasizing the chaotic energy required to break into a rigid industry.
"My greatest wish is that Dwelling encourages people to reimagine their world and what their reading lives can be."
From Satire to Prophecy
One of the most compelling sections of Orman's coverage is the revelation that the novel's central event—mass eviction—shifted from satire to reality during the writing process. Orman notes that Kivel initially conceived the mass evictions as a satire, "a culmination of our then-current, unsustainable practices pushed to the extreme." However, the author admits that "almost immediately after I finished the first draft, renovictions started devouring Los Angeles." This temporal proximity forces the reader to confront the uncomfortable reality that fiction is no longer lagging behind the news; in the case of housing, it is often indistinguishable from it.
Orman effectively uses Kivel's observation that "Housing—and the literal state of our home—doesn't only shape our lives, it genuinely shapes our worldviews" to bridge the gap between personal narrative and systemic critique. The argument here is that the physical act of losing a home fundamentally alters one's cognitive map of the world. While Kivel suggests that the internet and reduced attention spans are fragmenting modern novels, a counterargument worth considering is that this fragmentation is a direct symptom of the very housing instability Kivel describes; the inability to focus is a survival mechanism in an unstable environment.
The Radicalism of Craft and Direction
The conversation deepens as Orman and Kivel discuss the symbolism of shoes in the novel. In a world where direction is lost, Kivel posits that the ability to craft shoes that guide the wearer is a profound act of resistance. Orman paraphrases Kivel's view that "the shoes can't make you rich or famous or even successful, but they can point you in the direction of life. They can orient you towards the living." This reframes the concept of labor away from capitalist productivity and toward existential purpose.
Kivel connects this to the Marxist concept of alienated labor, arguing that the protagonist's transition from a graphic designer to a shoemaker allows her to "map her own daily existence within her surroundings." Orman captures the nuance here: the novel suggests that while not every job must be fulfilling, the act of making something tangible is essential for reclaiming one's sense of self. The interview touches on the idea that "dedicating oneself to the making of something—including art—can allow you to come into your own existence more fully."
"The world is so broken and absurd that sometimes the only way I can authentically interact with it without crying is through humor."
The Texas Frontier and the Search for Home
Finally, Orman explores the novel's setting, Texas, which serves as a counterpoint to the chaos of New York. Kivel describes the town of Gulluck as a place with "less noise," where the protagonist can engage in an "old-fashioned" act of self-determination. Orman notes the "frontiersman quality" in the character, suggesting a weirdly American optimism that persists even in a fantastical setting. This section challenges the stereotype of Texas as merely a political battleground, presenting it instead as a space for reinvention and quiet dwelling.
Critics might argue that framing the solution to the housing crisis as a retreat to a small, magical town is a form of escapism that ignores the need for structural policy change. However, Orman and Kivel seem to agree that the novel is not a policy paper but a call to "open up the aperture of what we even think a home could be." The humor and magic are not distractions; they are the tools necessary to imagine a future that currently seems impossible.
Bottom Line
Orman's interview succeeds by treating the housing crisis as a mythological event, using Kivel's fiction to expose the absurdity of a system that treats shelter as a commodity rather than a right. The strongest element is the realization that the novel's satire has already become reality, making the story a vital document of our current moment. The biggest vulnerability lies in the reliance on individual craftsmanship as a solution to systemic failure, but the piece ultimately argues that reclaiming one's narrative is the first step toward reclaiming one's home.