Jonathan Evison’s superpower as a writer is bringing to life characters you don’t frequently find on the page, and then imbuing these characters with such relatability that his readers can’t help but root for them as if the characters themselves were superheroes.
For instance, in 2012’s The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving, Evison tells the story of a teen with Duchenne muscular dystrophy and the down-on-his-luck man named Ben who cares for him. The novel develops into an unusual buddy comedy that is as sweet as it is funny.
In 2018’s Lawn Boy, Evison brings us the character of Mike Munoz, an early 20s fellow doing odd jobs (like mowing lawns) while he tries to figure out who he is. This isn’t your typical coming-of-age story, however.
If you’ve never read Evison, but are thinking, “Hm, that name sounds vaguely familiar,” it’s likely because Lawn Boy was part of the first wave of widely challenged books when book banning started to gain real, tragic momentum in 2021. The book depicts a perfectly normal queer relationship, but that was enough (and still is – the book remains one of the most challenged) to draw the ire of the small-minded and overly righteous.
With his latest novel, The Heart of Winter, Evison brings his careful eye for empathy to the story of a marriage. The result is the best novel yet in his now nine-book career. Abe and Ruth Winter have been married nearly 70 years, a union based on the solid foundation of mutual respect, compromise, and yes, a deep love. When Ruth is diagnosed with oral cancer, Abe finds himself at 90 years old in the difficult role of caretaker. Evison alternates between the real-time story of Ruth’s battle with the disease, and the milestones, both big and small, that have marked their seven-decade union.
I first met Evison way back in 2012 at the now-defunct Book Expo America conference in New York City. As he signed my book (an ARC of The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving, which I still have, and cherish), we chatted briefly about his penchant for fancy hats, a conversation which has continued on and off over social media the past decade-plus. So it was an utter delight for me to get to talk with him again about The Heart of Winter. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Greg Zimmerman
You’ve noted The Heart of Winter might be your most personal book because you wrote it as a tribute to your mother as she battled oral cancer. First of all, how is your mother? And secondly, was it difficult for you emotionally to render a fictional version of your mother’s battle? Why?
Jonathan Evison
First, my mom is doing well, thanks. She’s slowed down a bit, but she’s still sharp, still getting around at 89. She lives with us, and that’s a comfort to both of us. It might have been emotionally difficult to put it on the page had I not known the outcome of her battle, but since she beat it, no, it was more of an exercise in recalling every little detail of the process.
Greg Zimmerman
You’ve also said you’re most proud of this novel because its execution most closely matched the idea you had for it — or something to that effect. Can you talk a little bit about why you think the novel turned out so well?
Jonathan Evison
The impetus for the novel was very simple, and very direct: to write my mom the love story she deserved. As I was with her through the whole process, from the diagnosis, to the surgery, to the radiation, to the aftercare, pureeing her food, sitting at her bedside reading to her, sleeping beside her for a time, so I could help her to the bathroom in the middle of the night, visiting her every day at the aftercare facility, where she was constantly monitored, I kept thinking to myself that she deserved to have a mate beside her for all this, a husband to hold her hand and encourage her, rather than a son. Like the vows say: through sickness and health. So, I saw from conception that the book would be a about a long, enduring marriage. I didn’t want it to be a cakewalk, of course, what marriage is? In fact, I wanted to put every obstacle I could in the path of the marriage, because it is enduring those hardships that makes a long-term marriage so powerful, and so rewarding.
Greg Zimmerman
You write several times that husband Abe was “born middle-aged.” He’s as square as square can be. As time marches on, we alternately root for him and are annoyed with him (he’s a Republican, after all). Can you talk about how you were able to toe that line between a sympathetic character and an unlikeable one?
Jonathan Evison
The more flawed the character, the more difficult to redeem, the more powerful the redemption, or that’s how I’ve always viewed it. We’re all deeply flawed, and we all have elements of our personalities, or at least our interior lives that are anti-sympathetic. To present those flaws honestly, and to redeem them unsentimentally was not so difficult a task. I think readers relate highly to flawed characters, as they recognize themselves in these characters.
Greg Zimmerman
Abe is also Ruth’s caretaker. Caretakers are certainly the unsung heroes of any fight against disease. How was Abe’s role as caretaker so important to his characterization in the novel?
Jonathan Evison
For seventy years, Ruth took care of Abe. Sure, he was the breadwinner, but it was Ruth who cooked, and cleaned after him, who nursed his every aching back, or malady. So, reversing those roles in itself was powerful, especially when you add their three adult children who doubt Abe’s ability to do so at every turn, and doubt the wisdom of Abe even attempting to do so. Abe has to fight for the opportunity to care for Ruth, which is a pretty meaningful stand, and there are points where he fails.
Greg Zimmerman
I’m glad you mentioned that. Abe and Ruth both battle with their adult children at several points in the novel. They value their independence and make a firm stand for what they want (their independence, to be left alone, to stay in their home) versus what might be safer or more practical. Though this is common in real-life, it’s not often portrayed sensitively in fiction. Was it difficult to portray this conflict, giving voice to the concerns of both sides?
Jonathan Evison
I didn’t find it particularly difficult, as I am a really proud person in terms of self-sufficiency. It was very easy to imagine myself in Ruth and Abe’s position. The day is likely coming, but hopefully not for another thirty years, or fifteen novels, which might be a more realistic way of framing it. If I get to the point where I’m not up for the challenge of writing a novel, it might be time for somebody to start thinking about an intervention.
Greg Zimmerman
Structure-wise, the novel is a sort of conversation between past and present, and both parts are equally compelling, which is often tough for a writer to pull off well. Was it challenging to write this structure?
Jonathan Evison
Conversation is a very apt word to describe the novel’s structure, or maybe, to use a jazz term, call and response. Not only between the past and the present, but between Ruth and Abe, as the entire novel is told from their alternating points-of-view. It seemed the perfect structure to illustrate the give-and-take of a marriage.
FICTION
The Heart of Winter
By Jonathan Evison
Dutton
Published January 7, 2025
