Although the early part of my discussion with acclaimed American author TC Boyle concerns the irony-free, naturalistic approach of his latest novel, San Miguel, shortly thereafter there is a moment of exquisite irony that could have come directly from one of his novels. Boyle has just finished talking about utopias gone wrong, and how human affairs can never be free from complication, when one of the staff members of the Radisson Hotel in Golden Lane places a notice on our table which reads, “Reserved for the Central Bank from 12.”

San Miguel itself concerns two different families who arrive on the titular island, off the coast of California, during a period that spans from the late 19th to the mid 20th century. The men in each family – Will Waters and Herbie Lester, both veterans of different wars – are seeking a utopian ideal, a place apart from normal society (a recurring theme in Boyle’s work), but the folly of their ambition drags down themselves and their respective wives, Marantha and Elise – and in the Waters’ case, also their daughter, Edith.
I put it to Boyle that the novel’s lack of irony – a quality otherwise rife in his canon – means that it may not be the best introduction to his work.
“It’s the only one I’ve written in a naturalistic vein, without irony or humour of any kind – it’s just straightforward,” acknowledges the warm and engaging Boyle. “I hadn’t done that before, nor had I written one entirely in the voice of women, and I wanted to see what that would be like. I always want to move forward, otherwise... we know of bands and writers – and I don’t want to diss anyone here – who reproduce the same thing over and over. It’s death, I think. I wanted to see if I could do it and it’s very difficult because it’s not my natural mode.”
Boyle first got the idea for the novel when researching a previous book, When The Killing’s Done, and the characters are based on real people.
“Since I was working on a fragmentary diary of Marantha Waters, and these two memoirs by Elise Lester and her girl Betsy, it just seemed natural to tell the story straight,” he says. “It’s a very hermetic story, entirely contained on this island, and I wanted to give that sense of day-to-day life without any of the grand operatic effects I usually have.”
San Miguel is a highly compelling tale and the manner in which Boyle tracks the downfall of two men blinded by self-delusion – a classic literary theme – is masterful. One of the main themes of the book is the foolishness of trying to realise a utopian ideal; given that human beings are involved, it’s always going to get messy.
“I like that reading very much,” nods Boyle. “Don’t forget I’ve written kind of obsessively about the environment, and this especially American idea of creating a utopia or a society apart from society. I’ve written it over and over – in Drop City, or even in The Inner Circle, about Alfred Kinsey and his little group. I’m always focusing on small groups apart from the rest of the world.”
Where does Boyle’s interest in utopian ideals stem from?
“An angry, rebellious, misanthropic hatred of everybody and everything,” he laughs. “Also, I grew up in the suburbs of New York, 30 miles north. There are housing developments and urban malls and all of that, but we had an extensive woods behind our development, probably a couple of square miles. Now it’s built over, but I had a kind of Huckleberry Finn childhood – I was outdoors all the time. Look at me, I’m completely hyperactive, I must have driven my parents insane. But in those days we didn’t have Ritalin and psychiatrists, we just had a back door. So I was outdoors all the time, mostly with the other kids, but occasionally in the woods by myself.
“To be apart from everyone is very important to me. I lead a very public life – I’m onstage all the time, I’m being interviewed, it’s great, I love it and my fans are so wonderful. But most of the time you don’t see me, because I am apart from everybody, shivering in a freezing cold house, dressed in rags, typing.”
Environmentalism is another key theme in Boyle’s books, and he has a somewhat grim view of our ecological future.
“George Bush actually falsified scientific reports because he was a schill for the oil companies, and they didn’t want people to know they were destroying the world,” he says. “This is the way of dictators throughout history, right? George Orwell, double-speak and so on. Yes, I’m terrified, and I see no hope for our species, and I don’t see any immediate hope actually. I seriously began to read environmentalists in the late ‘90s when I was doing research for Friends Of The Earth. There’s not a breath of hope from any of them.
“It’s quite obvious that soon – and by the way, my plan is to die (laughs) – some disease is going to ravage humankind and make the societies collapse. That’s inevitable with the promiscuity that we have – we’re in Zaire one night, we’re here the next night, back and forth. The West Nile virus in America; a couple of mosquitoes got on a plane in Egypt 20 years ago. It looks so grim (laughs). I don’t want to depress everyone. The good news is that in three-and-a-half billion years the sun will enlarge and destroy the earth and burn it like it a cinder.
“I wouldn’t want to depress everyone about human life. Yes, carpe diem, we’re alive. I’m having fun talking to you, I love my friends and a certain segment of humanity – that segment that buys my books, for instance (laughs).”
Looking at the future of the novel, as well as the human race, it’s interesting that over the past decade or so, TV shows like The Sopranos and The Wire have achieved the kind of dramatic depth that hitherto had been almost exclusively the preserve of literary works.
“My closest friends in the world wrote The Sopranos,” reveals Boyle. “Mitchell Burgess and Robin Green. We went to the Iowa Writers Workshop together and the four of us, including my wife, moved to LA together from there. I don’t have to explain it to you or your readers, but sure, it’s great to watch something, if you do it selectively and you can be your own man. If you can unplug. A lot of people can’t unplug. Sometimes for business purposes, but also because it’s kind of addictive to be constantly texting, checking your handheld device or whatever you’re going to do.
“But you know, it’s so trivial and it takes you away from the real world. I am very rigid about such things. I love to watch old movies on TV, or an episode of The Sopranos or whatever, but that’s all I’m going to do – then it’s off, and I’m reading a book or going for a walk.”

San Miguel is out now, published by Bloomsbury.