RM: Any idiomatic language right now that you geek out over?

JJS: Some of the most inspirational usage of English right now is happening in hip hop. I feel like if Shakespeare were alive, that’s who he would be listening to.

RM: Which hip hop artists do you like?

JJS: I like Azaelia Banks. I wanted to write something about her, but then she was on the cover of Spin. Tyler the Creator. You know, back in the day, The Geto Boys. And I like some of the stuff that this hilarious, clownish dude named Riff Raff does…

RM: I imagine that the issue of class can get tricky, because you’re writing for a glossy, liberal-leaning magazine from New York City. Like, in the Axl piece, you all but come out and say, “listen, this part of southern Indiana can get really fucking bleak.” But at the same time you can’t, really, because of the position you’re speaking from, you have to modulate the tone really carefully so as to not sound condescending. Who knows, maybe your friend who’s watching porn in the middle the day, he could be happy as a clam...

JJS: It’s possible.

RM: One of your great gifts is your ability to walk that tightrope. How do you manage to avoid going too far in one direction or another?

JJS: I don’t know where this thought is headed, but I know it’s true, so I’ll just start with it: I would have never thought of doing that if I weren’t also looking at that narrator as a kind of classic journalistic character himself. I mean, it’s the whole Lost Illusions story, by Balzac. Provincial scribbler with a little bit of talent goes to the city and then uses his déclassé background as material. So there’s already a trope going on there. That’s when things start to get interesting for me. It seemed to me like a way to talk about class, which is something I was always looking to do.