Aggeliki Pelekidis holds a PhD in English Literature and Creative Writing from Binghamton University. Her writing has appeared in many literary journals. She used to work as a public relations executive in New York City.
In reading Aggeliki Pelekidis’s Unlucky Mel (Three Hills 2024), I was reminded of the following quote from Kingsely Amis’s classic 1954 novel Lucky Jim: “Doing what you wanted to do was the only training, and the only preliminary, needed for doing more of what you wanted to do.” The sentiments here are quite easier said than done, and even if a writer is given this advice, or comes to the conclusion by themselves, the “doing” doesn’t always present itself as an easy option. For Melody Holdings, a PhD candidate in the final year of her creative writing program at a university in upstate New York, the desire to write, and a desire to secure a comfortable future through her writing, is burdened by one obstacle after another: a friend who doesn’t keep his promises, a father whose health issues become increasingly worrisome, a university that is indifferent to the competition it creates for a limited number of jobs. What results in Pelekidis’s debut novel is nothing short of a wildly humorous, sometimes tragic, and always relatable journey of a writer who finds herself sacrificing more than she expected.
Aggeliki, thank you immensely for your time. I’ve always been fascinated by the online conversations about writing programs in this country, and anytime I view these debates on X (formerly Twitter) or Facebook, I’d think about my own MFA journey. I loved my program, but because it was still in its infancy at the institution I attended, the details of how a writer was supposed to navigate their career options after graduation was quite sparse. The anxiety that Mel feels in your book was so real to me, as I’m sure it is to a lot of MFA and PhD candidates. How much of your personal experience translated to Mel’s? How did you approach writing about the complexities of a graduate writing program in this book?
Aggeliki Pelekidis: Great question! A lot of my experience in academia translated over to what Mel deals with but in a much more accelerated and exaggerated form. While I was still in graduate school, I had less anxiety than Mel because of the delusion I had that miraculously, after I graduated, that I would land a tenure-track job! But I started writing Unlucky Mel in 2014 after I’d graduated in 2012, so by that time, I knew what she was in for, especially given that she needed to stay local or within a reasonable distance because of her father. I wanted to mirror but condense over the course of Mel’s last year what I learned over several years of my own life pre- and post-graduation. Mel starts off hopeful as I did, despite seeing the evidence of an insufficient number of professors in her own university, but as she begins applying for the few jobs that are out there during 2006 when the book takes place, she realizes what a terrible situation she’s in. Hence her diatribe during the Women in Leadership panel! Her seeing that there are too many graduates to fill too few positions was true in 2006, in 2012 when I graduated, and it looks like it’s still an issue today. I recently went on the Higher Ed jobs site to see what the current trends are in English and the vast majority of positions are contingent and adjunct faculty. So academia is still trying to save money by not hiring tenure-track positions.
Esteban Rodríguez: Your mention of too few graduates for too few jobs reminds me of a poem by Rodney Jones titled “One of the Citizens,” which elegizes a mechanic whose passion for philosophy is not as noticed as it should be. The poem opens as follows:
What we have here is a mechanic who reads Nietzsche,
who talks of the English and the French Romantics
as he grinds the pistons; who takes apart the Christians
as he plunges the tarred sprockets and gummy bolts
into the mineral spirits that have numbed his fingers;
an existentialist who dropped out of school to enlist,
who lied and said he was eighteen, who gorged himself
all afternoon with cheese and bologna to make the weight,
and guarded a Korean hill before he roofed houses,
first in East Texas, then here in North Alabama.
Is the system too focused on producing writers who are expected to teach? If so, should we as a community be encouraging graduates to look beyond the classroom? Should we be inviting more mechanics to the literary table?
AP: Love this poem! Thank you for sharing it with me. For the second part of your question, yes, we should definitely be inviting more mechanics to the literary table! Diversity is needed in academia and writing on all fronts, including when it comes to socio-economic status. In fact, classism is something I explore in Unlucky Mel through Mel coming from a lower-middle class background, while Ben, her frenemy, comes from a much higher socioeconomic status.
Intelligence and creativity do not automatically coexist with wealth and prosperity. I think about all the creative, intelligent, and curious people who would flourish if they had the chance to develop their interests. My parents grew up in WWII Greece and experienced the Great Famine of 1941. Then there was Greece’s civil war to contend with. They had far less educational opportunities available to them as a result. My father literally was a mechanic, though eventually he was able to own his own service stations.
There is also a researched link between readers who read fiction, particularly literary fiction, and being more empathic. Now whether this is a confusing cause and effect literary fallacy, I’m not sure. But I do know from my own history of reading that books written by diverse writers helped me understand what it’s like to be someone completely different from myself, whether that has to do with race, gender, ethnicity, sexuality, or class.
As for if the system is too focused on producing writers who teach, I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing because there’s a lot to learn as a writer when you teach and it’s a way to mentor upcoming writers as well. If it wasn’t for the support, knowledge, and belief in myself my professors provided me during graduate school we wouldn’t be doing this interview. The bigger problem is that academia doesn’t pay these graduates well or offer sufficient job security.
But I also do believe that we should be helping graduates see the wealth of other opportunities that exist in professions that require great writers and readers. For example, I was a marketing communications executive in NYC for a decade before going to grad school. My ability to write well helped me advance in the profession. This is something that we actually do at Binghamton University in the Writing Initiative where I work. We’ve created a writing minor to expose students to courses that could prepare them for jobs that have nothing to do with academia.
ER: I like that you say that we should be helping “graduates see the wealth of other opportunities that exist,” and I think Mel recognizes that during her panel discussion. The following scene plays out in the middle of the discussion:
Mel snatches the microphone before Professor Swinden can reach it. “They’re creating too many of us, my friends, because we’re cheap labor teaching undergrads. Then they punt us out into the world to fight over a limited number of tenure-track positions.” Mel kicks an invisible soccer ball across the room. “We’re a huge school of piranha, swimming after a teeny-tiny school of fish,” she says, making her voice babyish on these last five words, “by which of course I mean assistant professor jobs instead of the crappy ‘instructor’ or ‘lecturer’ adjuncting ones that have no security or benefits, and pay for shit. I’m going to have a PhD, for chrissakes, and several years of teaching experience under my belt by the time I graduate, plenty of publications, but more than likely I’ll be living at the poverty level, without health insurance, cobbling together as many adjuncting gigs as I can at colleges hours away from each other just to pay my bills and student loans.”
You mention your program at Binghamton, but other institutions might not be so lucky. Are there other remedies we should be looking at as well?
AP: What we do in the Writing Initiative with our minor is geared toward undergraduate students, and I’m out of the loop when it comes to what happens for creative writing graduate students at BU. But when it comes to remedies for employment post graduation for graduate students, there are probably similar strategies that can be employed like what we’re doing for undergraduates. First off, include courses that are related to these other professions. For example, I teach a Marketing Communications class for undergrads that focuses on helping students learn about the profession, covering the recent scholarly research and current trends, but also the various written materials created as part of the job. We also offer classes on podcasting, blogging, among others. Second, bring in professionals from these various industries to speak to students about how they got into their fields, what these jobs involve and what skills are required, how they pay, and what opportunities they offer. Third, share with students internship opportunities that are out there to test the waters of these various professions. Fourth, help students refine their job application materials and learn how to look for employment, working more closely with career development departments at universities. And six, create more mentoring opportunities with faculty or with external professionals who have experience in these fields to work with students, something I do informally quite a bit because of my marketing communications background.
ER: One of my favorite novels is 2666 by Roberto Bolaño. Composed of five loosely related stories, the book revolves around a Pynchonesque German author named Benno von Archimboldi. He’s considered by critics to be a contender for the Nobel Prize, but even with conferences and discussions related in great detail, we never get to read his work, merely the titles of his books. Besides a blog post, Mel’s fiction remains a mystery to us. Can you speak about Mel’s writing and how you decided to portray her as an emerging author?
AP: Originally the book had a number of blog posts in it but the decision was made to take all but one out because of how they interrupted the pace of the novel. That was hard but given what the posts were attempting to do, it made sense. The blogs I created showed Mel’s growing awareness of women’s issues on a variety of topics, now seen by her through a feminist lens. Since this was coming through without the posts they became unnecessary. The one I kept serves as a sort of intermission via a brief literary criticism piece Mel has written while also showing the historical foundation of female revenge narratives via Aphra Behn’s play, The Rover. I’m really glad I was able to keep that one in. It is the catalyst, among other things, that inspires Mel to take her own revenge.
There are several reasons why Mel is an English and creative writing Ph.D student and a writer, rather than some other discipline. First, because of my own personal experience with this. Second, these remain, like many other professions, places where the patriarchy still exerts influence and control, making them ripe targets for satire. Look at the VIDA counts, especially in 2006 when the book takes place. Consider how many contingent faculty members in academia are women compared to men. I wanted to show how the macro decisions to publish and review fewer female writers could impact an individual like Mel on the micro level when it comes to her own publishing and professional journey and her opportunities to become a professor.
As a lifelong reader myself, making her a writer and English literature student was also a way for me to delve into the role reading plays in developing a feminist mindset. Behn’s The Rover helps Mel see the history of women writers who’ve used their work to call out problematic male behavior. Reading and writing as an act of rebellion and criticism of the patriarchy appeals to me. I think of how Behn worked and attempted to make her living in such a male dominated space, just like Mel is doing, though not with the same challenges the playwright must have faced.
ER: One of the themes that I found the most interesting was that of tolerance, specifically the way in which individuals are willing to tolerate the actions of others even when they sense that things are becoming increasingly unfair. I found myself wanting to reach inside the page and shake Mel, shout that her father and Ben weren’t valuing her the way she should be valued. But then I’d think about my own life and the times that I’ve let other people push the boundaries of what I found acceptable. How did Mel develop as a character throughout the course of your writing? Were there different directions you considered, with respect to her relationship with herself and others?
AP: I really had to think about Mel’s history to understand who she would be at the present of her story. When I put all the pieces together of her losing her mother, having to step in her place in some ways at a young age, and more so as she grew older, I could see how she would behave with her father and with Ben. I wanted to explore through Mel how women are socialized over years if not decades to be nurturing and then examine the cost of doing this. She is naive and trusting, but also flattered by Ben’s attention, a lethal combination that makes her vulnerable to being taken advantage of. She’s from a small town and suffering from imposter syndrome in higher education. This NYC guy with a great publishing record and fancy MFA comes along and blesses her with his friendship. I don’t think I considered other directions for her though she probably became a little nicer and less judgy during the revision process with my editor. For Unlucky Mel I engaged in the outlining process, making myself a “plotter.” So a lot of thought went into figuring out who Mel was before I even started writing the book. Knowing her well helped me with developing scenes that were organic to her personality.
ER: I know not all literary works lend themselves to being easily defined, but do you consider Unlucky Mel a campus novel? And if so, what place do you hope Unlucky Mel occupies within that pantheon of books?
AP: I would definitely classify it as a campus novel and academic satire. Some of my favorite books are part of this subgenre of literary fiction: Lucky Jim by Kinglsey Amis introduced me to it and UM is definitely paying homage to this book, which I found hilarious but also a book that explored classism in post-war England higher education. But I really wanted to do one with a female protagonist, which hadn’t been done when I started UM in 2014. Since then Elif Batuman’s The Idiot and Elaine Hsieh Chou’s Disorientation have entered the picture and I loved both. And I also enjoyed Straight Man by Richard Russo. I’d say that for my book, feminist revenge narrative also works. It could also be considered a künstlerroman or artist’s novel.
ER: In countless campus novels, we always see the main character’s struggle exacerbated by a love interest, even to the point of irreversible harm (I think of Darconville’s Cat by Alexander Theroux). While Mel does have issues with her partner, her nemesis is actually her frenemy, Ben. What went into the decision for the narrative to play out this way?
AP: It was based on purely selfish reasons! I wasn’t interested in making it a romantic relationship because I didn’t want to read that. You’re going to be hanging out with a novel draft for a very long time. You probably should enjoy spending time with it. When I consider most of my writing, romantic relationships are not in the forefront. I tend to decenter romance, especially when writing about women and their lives, because it has been covered by plenty of other writers and in other genres. The majority of campus novels I’ve read and enjoyed do not have a romantic relationship as the central focus. Like Straight Man, Lucky Jim, and Disorientation.
ER: Publishing a book, in any genre, is quite a feat, but a novel is definitely a different beast. Now that one is in the books, how does it feel? Are there certain things that you did for this book that you would replicate for future work? Things that you wouldn’t do again?
AP: It feels great that I’ve shown myself that I’m capable of creating a larger work like a novel. I had some faith in my short story writing throughout and after graduate school, but a failed novel MS prior to Unlucky Mel really made me doubt my ability to write a much larger project. I had to learn a lot about plotting out a book, which made me become an outliner. No more “pantsing” for me! So I’m currently revising that failed manuscript with this new outlining and plotting knowledge guiding me.
Esteban Rodríguez is the author of eight poetry collections, most recently Lotería (Texas Review Press, 2023), and the essay collection Before the Earth Devours Us (Split/Lip Press, 2021). His work has appeared in New England Review, Seneca Review, Colorado Review, Adroit Journal, Poetry Daily, and American Life in Poetry. He is the interviews editor at the EcoTheo Review, senior book reviews editor at Tupelo Quarterly, and associate poetry editor at AGNI. With Jennifer De Leon and Ben Black, he coedited To Never Have Risked Our Lives: An AGNI Portfolio of Central American and Mexican Diaspora Writing. He lives with his family in south Texas.