Pulitzer Prize–winning author Jhumpa Lahiri (The Interpreter of Maladies, The Namesake, Whereabouts) is a woman of many countries and languages. Born in London to Bengali immigrant parents, she was raised in Kingston, Rhode Island. In2012, she moved with her family from Brooklyn to Rome, developing a connection to the city that has only grown in the years since and is reflected in her new collection of short fiction, Roman Stories (Knopf, Oct. 10).

For 11 years, Lahiri has split her time between Italy and the U.S.; at the time of this interview, she had just resettled her American home base from Princeton, New Jersey, to Brooklyn. Her plan for the foreseeable future is to spend half the year in New York, teaching at her alma mater, Barnard/Columbia, and the other half writing and translating in Rome.

Roman Stories was originally written in Italian, then translated into English by Lahiri and Knopf editor Todd Portnowitz. Lahiri told Kirkus that although she characterizes Bengali as “the language in which I was first loved,” she doesn’t claim it, or any other language, as her own. Nonetheless, her passion for Italian reflects her sense that the city of Rome is one place on earth “that has allowed me to really accept who I am.”  We talked about that and more on Zoom; our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

In the starred Kirkus review of Roman Stories, our critic observed that the throughline of the stories seems to be the “perspective of an outsider looking in.” Does that resonate?

Absolutely. For me, everybody in that book is an outsider. I would like to push against the binary idea of “foreigners” being the outsiders, incontrast with another category called Romans or Italians. Even people born and raised in the city can suffer acute displacement and alienation. At the end of the day, we all have to understand the other in ourselves and make room for that person. This is ethically so important.

And then there’s Rome! My God! For centuries it’s had suchspecific cultural significance, power, and resonance.  And yetwaves of different populations have defined it from the beginning.

One of the stories that seems to explore that dynamic is “The Steps.” In it, a series of six characters is seen traversing an ancient staircase, each in their own story: The Mother, The Widow, The Expat Wife, The Girl, Two Brothers, The Screenwriter. Is this a real place?

The building where I live in Rome is literally part of La Scalea del Tamburino, though no one really calls it that. The idea for the stories originated in the period when we first went back to Rome after the acute phase of the pandemic. There were as yet no vaccines, so we had to quarantine in our apartment, though everyone else was out and about. For those weeks, we lived by people basically passing us food, pasta, newspapers, whatever, across the gate from the staircase. It was the end of June, very hot already, and I would often go down to wait for the delivery, observing life on the staircase without participating in any way. That situation gave rise to the idea of using the staircase as a backdrop, but also as a character itself, to try to describe what daily life in Rome is like from my point of view.

What do you miss most about that life when you’re not there?

I miss a daily sense of well-being. I feel taken care of by the city. It’s a strange thing to say, because it’s not the easiest city, it’s not like everybody’s reaching out to hug me or hold my hand, but it’s a place that has allowed me to accept who I am. I’ve waited a long time to feel that it’s OK to not be from any one place, that I don’t have to conform to expectations of being one kind of person or another. I feel that in Rome.

There’s a humanity and warmth in my day-to-day life there—from friends, neighbors, from people in businesses that I frequent—that I find so rare and valuable in our increasingly fast-paced, impersonal world. I remember the last coffee I had in the little bar below my house. I told the barista, “I’m leaving tomorrow—my flight is in the morning.” He said, “You come back here behind the bar. This is your place of honor today.”

I did, and he made me my coffee. I pulled out my one euro and 20 cents, and he said, “Well, of course you’re not paying for this.” I said, “You know, Marco,there is one thing I will miss immediately when I go back to the United States.” He said, “It’s the coffee, right?” And I said, “No, it’s you.” These are very beautiful things in my mind.

How did Roman Stories come together? Did you set out to write a book of stories about life in Rome?

Well, in 2018 and 2019, I was on leave for a year from Princeton, back living in Rome. I’d already written the first few stories in the book: “The Boundary,” “P’s Parties,” and “The Reentry.” At that moment, I thought back to Alberto Moravia, his Racconti romani. One day I was sitting with my editor and I asked him, “What do you think of Racconti romani as a title for a book I might write?” He said, “Oh, I think this would be a really interesting project.” So, during that leave year, I drafted most of the other stories in the book. When I was finished, I still felt strongly that “The Boundary” should be the first story, because all the stories are about boundaries, how we negotiate them, how boundaries are both necessary and do us violence.

The one about the little girl whose family rents out a guest house on their farm and she spies on the renters. I love that story! Can you tell us what you are working on now?

I’ve been working for the past couple of years on a co-translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses with Yelena Baraz, a classicist at Princeton University.

Is that a fun project?

It’s an amazing project, the most thrilling project of my life. Ovid’s poem has meant so much to me for so very long. I studied Latin as an undergraduate at Barnard and minored in classics. It has remained a love and an area of interest. The opportunity to read the Metamorphoses from start to finish in Latin with someone as qualified as Yelena to walk me through every line and really explain what is going on has been the most fulfilling experience of my career.

Will we see it anytime soon?

It’s an immense project. We currently have afirst full draft, but I imagine there will be many iterations, as well as introductory materials and commentary to write and incorporate. It’s not something one can do quickly.

I guess we’ll have to be patient—we’ll try!

Marion Winik is the host of the NPR podcast The Weekly Reader.