George Saunders

And that seems to me part of the magic of fiction because in fiction, I can make a person that I really don't like, like this guy in the book.

He's a stinker.

But then through the kind of weird side door of trying to make the language about him more interesting—

You start sinking through the levels of his stuff.

And pretty soon, I don't know if you like him, like and dislike become a most useless phrase.

You are him.

You have been him.

And then that beautiful thing where I think specificity negates judgment.

So as I work harder and harder to know that guy through the things he's said and done and seen and remembers, my sense of wanting to judge him just becomes kind of, it seems juvenile.

Yeah, anybody can judge.

Let's just go deeper and deeper.

And I really cherish that feeling.

And, of course, it doesn't last beyond the page.

And I'm sure if I met his real-life corollary, I'd be sneering at him.

But what a blessing, you know, to for a few minutes a day kind of ascend up out of your habit.

That's a great question.

I think—here's the thing.

I don't think there's a person like that I couldn't generate the empathy for, but it might be facile empathy.

So I think if you look at someone who's really psychopathic or— I mean, I was wondering if you could write a fictional version of Trump.

Sure.