Christos Tsiolkas: 'There's a tameness to the modern novel'

Christos Tsiolkas, the Greek-Australian author of controversial bestseller The Slap, on the joys of moussaka, the crisis in Greece and seeing his characters on a TV screen

Christos Tsiolkas: 'My mum read The Slap in Greek and rang me saying, "How do you know how we think?" That was the best review I've ever had.' Photograph: Paul McCarthy

Your bestselling book, The Slap, which charts the ripple effect of a man slapping someone else's child at a suburban barbecue, is set in your home town of Melbourne. In Britain, most of us know Melbourne as the setting for Neighbours. Were you keen to show another side to the city?

I did think, I'm going to do the antithesis of Neighbours. I wanted to show the world I live in, a world I don't see reflected in Australian literature or on screen. Australia has a big chip on its shoulder about being suburban and middle class. Dame Edna Everage represents a kind of nightmare of the suburbs. But the Australian middle class now is made up of second- or third-generation immigrants, like me, and the white face of Neighboursgives me the shits.

Your first novel, Dead Europe, about to be republished here, was darker in tone…

Yes, Dead Europe was a very different book. For me, it was about cutting off the ghosts of Europe. The Slap was completely about my place, about Australia: that was how I saw it.

Your parents emigrated from Greece after the second world war. You were raised in a Greek community and didn't speak English until you went to school. Do you feel more Greek or Australian?

For a long time, until my late 20s, I felt the romance of Greece. When I went there, I loved it, I felt joyous, but it wasn't home. I came away thinking, I'm not Greek, I'm Australian.

So do you prefer moussaka or Vegemite?

[Laughs] Moussaka, definitely. I didn't grow up with Vegemite in the house and my parents were quite appalled the first time I ate it.

Did your parents like The Slap?

It's been interesting because they don't read English so they had to wait for the Greek translation which only came out earlier this year. I was nervous about their reaction but they responded well and they really liked Manolis [the Greek patriarch character]. Mum was ringing me saying: "How do you know how we think?" That was the best review I've ever had.

I imagine, with all the graphic sex scenes you wrote, that might be a hard thing to give your parents to read…?

[Laughs] Yes, writing sex was one of the big challenges.

Is it harder to write heterosexual love scenes because you're gay?

I wonder if the fact I am gay actually helped. When I was an adolescent, I gravitated to the literature and cinema of transgression, of sexual exploration and perversity. I remember coming across [Jean] Genet's sex journal and thinking, god, this is how I want to be in the world. Having that sense of being an outsider when I was young meant I wasn't scared of writing about sex or gender. They were my main preoccupations for such a long time.

Which is ironic because The Slap has been accused of being misogynistic…

What surprised me and angered me about that was that there was a conflation between the writer and the characters, which was really annoying. I wonder if there's a tameness to the modern novel when it comes to writing about certain people or experiences. When I remember the novels that made me want to be a writer, they were the ones that had characters who were difficult, complex and ambiguous.

Do you worry that readers nowadays want to have their expectations confirmed rather than challenged?

Yeah, the notion that likability is a critical positive – I don't know where that came from. I just reread Dostoevsky's The Double and the question of likability in that just seems absurd. It's one of those conversations I want to sit down in the pub and thrash out. What do we want from literature? Is it to see ourselves reflected in a positive light? Are we seeking affirmation? Maybe English critics are more frightened of sex than the Greeks.

The Slap was based on a real-life incident, wasn't it?

Yes. It was very similar to the first chapter of the book. My parents held a barbecue for their friends and family, my brother and my partner. My mother was cooking and there was a three-year-old boy who was playing around her. He was basically not listening, he was going into cupboards and taking all the pans out. My mother very lightly tapped him on the bottom and he turned around, put his hands on his hips and said: "No one has the right to touch my body without my permission." There was no violence in what my mother had done but it was the kind of incomprehension in that boy's face and the incomprehension on my mother's face that felt so vivid to me. I wrote the book to try and work out the gap between those two looks.

The Slap has now been adapted for TV. Is it odd to see your characters on screen?

It certainly is. I'm touching wood because I'm feeling very, very fortunate with this series and with the people involved. It's a different work, but it honours the original.

How is it seeing your parents' country in the throes of economic meltdown?

It's surreal but for many of us from a Greek background over here, more than anything, it probably cemented the sense that we have a relationship with the heritage and the country but we're not part of it. There's a sadness, too. I have cousins in Greece in their mid-40s who have lost their jobs or haven't been paid for months.

You've been with your partner, Wayne, for almost 30 years. Do you have any advice for other couples?

Don't go out with a writer! I've got no tips. I love him so much. He's been so important in terms of grounding me. Writing can sometimes lead me into a nightmare world. Wayne is really good at pulling me back from there. His parents are both Dutch immigrants and we both grew up in working-class migrant backgrounds. Like me, he was the first of his family to go to university. It's important because there are things I don't have to explain to him and vice versa.

When your prime minister, Julia Gillard, met the Queen recently, she refused to curtsey. If you met Her Majesty, would you bow?

I feel about the monarchy the same way I feel about Vegemite. I have no relationship. It's an institution that means nothing to me. If you'd spoken to me at 22, I would have said: "There's no way I'm bowing to her." I think I would do it now but as a sign of respect because she's an elder.