Gun violence and cartel kidnappings are not typical material for lyrical fiction. But for Jennifer Clement, they are the starting point.

Ms. Clement, president of PEN International and author of several critically acclaimed novels, is a key speaker at this year’s San Miguel Writers’ Conference in Mexico.

Her books explore urgent and controversial issues through lyrical storytelling, depicting harsh realities through the eyes of young, psychologically complex characters. Writing about current affairs in a fictional form does not require less research. If anything, it requires more.

“What the reader reads is a very small amount compared to what went into writing the book,” Jennifer Clement says.

Her latest book, “Gun Love,” took her seven years to research and write. For two years, Ms. Clement even received the daily local newspaper from a town in Florida to get a feel for the setting of her story. She describes the final work as the tip of the iceberg.

“I’ve been to the NRA twice, I’ve interviewed survivors of massacres, like, for example, some of the kids that were in the Batman movie [the 2012 Aurora shooting], and just all kinds of research and interviews. None of that ended up in ‘Gun Love,’ but I think the book sits on it. It sits on that research.”

While there is no shortage of tragedy, “Gun Love” seeks to avoid judgment, focusing instead on moments of light in even the most grotesque situations, Ms. Clement says.

“I go to these themes through the door of poetry. That means that in the greatest darkness, to try and find light, in where there is profanity to try and find the divine, so that where there is ugliness, I place beauty. That is my poetical intention.”

That approach is not always easy. American gun culture, she says, bewilders her.

“It’s hard to understand, and I find it also completely immoral, because it’s such a huge business.”

Arms trafficking represents a significant revenue stream for some gun dealers in the United States. A 2013 study by the University of San Diego found that 47% of U.S. gun dealers would go out of business if firearms were no longer trafficked from the United States to Mexico.

But strong emotions about these realities, she says, can drive a story. She wrote both “Gun Love” and “Prayers for the Stolen,” a novel about cartel violence and the abduction of girls from rural Guerrero, out of deep distress.

“In my case, I would say that at least these last two books of mine were written from a lot of pain, something that really hurts me on some level. I mean, to have little girls stolen in Guerrero, and then all this gun violence and the way it’s affecting Mexico. I’m horrified about what’s going on here now. And the guns play a big part.”

During the writing process, however, Ms. Clement says she focuses on her characters’ voices and their perceptions, rather than her emotions.

“In ‘Gun Love,’ it’s Pearl’s story, and it’s Pearl who’s speaking. It isn’t Jennifer Clement who’s speaking,” she says, referring to the book’s main character. 

“She takes over in this mysterious way that happens when you write. Many, many writers talk about this happening to them, and I can say that it happens to me. I sort of hear her, and I kind of let her speak.”

To avoid telling readers what to think, she gave the draft to a fellow writer who is an avid hunter and gun enthusiast. 

“I said, can you just read this book and make sure it’s okay if you’re a hunter reading it. And he said: yes, it was okay.” 

The book’s settings also evolved as the writing progressed. 

“A lot of people think that maybe I chose Florida because it has this reputation of being very exotic and full of strange people. But actually, that’s not the reason. I chose Florida because I wanted very much, and I didn’t know this until into the writing, very much the spirits of the native people to be in my book.”

The fate of Native American nations during European settlement plays a subtle but important role in “Gun Love,” accompanying the main characters through songs, references, and prophetic encounters.

“One thing that’s very clear is that no Indigenous population has ever been able to win against guns,” she said, noting that firearms were central to the violent displacement and destruction of Native American nations, many of whom lived in what is now Florida.

“They walked the Trail of Tears to try and get away. And so, in ‘Gun Love,’ the Trail of Tears is discussed and appears.”

The Trail of Tears refers to forced relocations of the Native American nations from the southeast of the United States to the area west of the Mississippi River under the Indian Removal Act in 1830. 

The law was passed to enable the forced seizure of Indigenous lands for white settlement and cotton cultivation. At gunpoint, thousands of Native Americans were marched westward, and many died from disease, starvation, and exhaustion along the journey, or were killed resisting the theft of their ancestral territories.

Produced for the website of the international San Miguel de Allede’s Writers’ Conference & Literary Festival.

Have you ever been to a literary reading and, despite your best intentions, found yourself in need of a strong coffee just to make it through?

You are not alone.

Reading a book is a private experience. You can stop when you like or stay up late getting lost in another world. It is entirely up to you.

Public readings, on the other hand, can be hit-or-miss. If you are unlucky, the only person getting lost in another world is the author, while everyone else is discreetly glancing at their watches.

Later, you check your email and scroll through Facebook, Twitter, or YouTube for more entertaining and less time-consuming ways to access stories.

With so much competition for our attention, do books and literary readings stand a chance in the long run?

In 2006, that concern prompted Adrian Todd Zuniga, Elizabeth Koch, and Dennis DiClaudio to look for a new way to showcase writers’ work.

They wanted to get audiences excited about literature afgain. But how?

The answer debuted at The Back Room, a speakeasy in New York City.

This was not an exercise in coddling authors or letting them read for as long as they liked. It was a battle of brevity, where only the most succinct and compelling would survive, with just minutes to capture the audience’s attention.

The Literary Death Match was born.

Despite the dramatic name, the event is high energy and playful, says co-organiser and author Adrian Todd Zuniga.

At each Literary Death Match, four handpicked writers read their work for up to seven minutes. Three judges then assess the performances from different angles: literary merit, stage presence, and the somewhat mysterious category of “intangibles.”

The two finalists face off in a light-hearted game to determine the winner.

From the beginning, the idea of turning literary readings into performance gained traction. For the very first event, the team secured musician Moby as a judge. Many other high-profile names followed.

Judges are not limited to authors. They come from a wide range of backgrounds, including acting, comedy, dance, and music.

With a strict seven-minute limit per reader, the total reading time stays under 30 minutes.

Zuniga says the time cap was inspired by watching attention spans fade at conventional readings.

“Within the literary community, there is this idea that we never cut anybody off,” he says.

“We would go to readings and somebody would read for five minutes and be excellent, and then you would see someone read for 25 minutes and everybody wanted to gouge their eyes out.”

Keeping literary readings short sets clear expectations and allows the organisers to build entertainment around the work.

There is also a stand-up element, with Zuniga delivering an opening monologue and judges offering spontaneous commentary. He says this format works even alongside serious or heartbreaking material.

The goal is to introduce audiences to new authors and provoke thought, without taking itself too seriously.

After more than a dozen years and over 480 matches in 37 cities worldwide, Literary Death Match has helped to revive literature readings.

Zuniga recalls some extraordinary audience responses, including 800-seat venues so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

One of his favourite moments took place at the San Antonio Book Festival, when author Antonio Sacre delivered a piece on stripping in relation to writing.

Sacre spoke about stripping away everything until only the essential remained. He turned the metaphor into a physical performance, and the audience erupted.

“People didn’t just give him a standing ovation. They jumped up. Women came and threw dollar bills on the stage,” Zuniga recalls.

“It was amazing to watch that response. People really lost it. I loved that moment.”

Zuniga’s ambitions extend beyond the live stage. He believes that in today’s political climate, when truth and reliable information matter deeply, literature is experiencing a revival and should reach broader platforms.

He is currently working on a documentary and hopes to bring Literary Death Match to the screen. A meeting with Netflix, he says, could be the next step.

Get a taste of how a Literary Death Match works (video courtesy of LDM):

You can experience your own death match at the San Miguel Writers’ Conference & Literary Festival in February 2019. 

Produced for the San Miguel Writers’ Conference & Literary Festival, held annually in Mexico.