Trespasses is one of the best novels set during the Troubles. What was the inspiration and how did the idea evolve?
Thank you! Trespasses began with a visit to the ‘Art of the Troubles’ exhibition in the Ulster Museum. It made me think about the ways in which art can say the unsayable in a place where language is so contentious. A couple of years later, the Sligo-based sculptor Bettina Seitz made ‘ghosts’ to commemorate the centenary of 1916. I made a ghost of the Troubles in my head and imagined a life for him.
Which other Troubles-related titles would you recommend?
Bernard MacLaverty’s Cal. Jennifer Johnston’s Shadows on Our Skin. Edna O’Brien’s House of Splendid Isolation. Anne Devlin’s The Way-Paver.
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Trespasses is also a wonderfully believable love story, tender and erotic. How did you approach this aspect of your story? And again, which are your favourite love stories?
I rely heavily on sensory observations in my writing, and perhaps that helped. The erotic can easily become comic, or even pornographic, so I avoided the use of simile and metaphor in the intimate scenes and kept it real, giving access to Cushla’s thoughts and feelings and sensations as they were happening, in the hope that the reader might feel what she felt. My favourite love stories are Thérèse Racquin by Emile Zola, although it is arguably about lust rather than love, and Jane Eyre, up to the point she says, ‘Reader, I married him’; I went off it after that.
What are your main memories of the conflict – both personal and public? Has living south of the Border influenced your perspective?
There were lots of individual incidents, but what I remember most is the tension. Moving to the south made me realise how utterly exhausting it was to live that way.
You worked for many years as a chef and there is a wonderful dinner party set-piece in Trespasses? Do you like writing about food? Do you find it an effective way to reveal character?
Even as a child I was fascinated by what people eat, lurking around a friend’s kitchen to watch her mother slop a Fray Bentos steak and kidney pie from a tin, waiting for the magical reconstitution of a Vesta curry - my own mother did not serve processed food. Later I trained as a cook so, from the outset, wrote about food without thinking about it. It is an effective tool in fiction, I think. Food can express love, resentment, anger; it can be used to seduce or to punish; and it can be a signifier of aspiration or class.
How did the reception of Trespasses differ on each side of the Atlantic?
My main terror as publication approached was that readers from the North would reject Trespasses, which was a great distraction from worrying about the reviews. When favourable ones began appearing, I relaxed. A bit. I didn’t know how the book would be read in the States and think reviewers there have demonstrated an understanding of Ireland we don’t always give Americans credit for.
Your debut was the award-winning short story collection, The End of the World Is a Cul-de-Sac. Could you describe the different creative processes or compare the two writing experiences?
I write my short stories tentatively, rarely knowing what it is that I am getting at until I am finished. I feared that if I approached a novel this way I would never finish it. With Trespasses, I went at it hell for leather. It made for a dishearteningly messy first draft, but I think some of the energy stayed on the page through the many subsequent edits.
You have recently overcome serious illness. Has it affected how you write or what you write about?
I am still in treatment - albeit that it is working - which leaves me tired. I am especially slow in the mornings, so the 5am starts I once treasured don’t happen anymore. As for it affecting what I write about…I have no interest in writing about the cancer, as I deal with it by ignoring it. That isn’t always possible, but every time I have a rough day, something great happens to do with the books. All things considered, I am a lucky bitch.
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
When I was 14, my aunt brought me to Jane Austen’s house in Chawton, Hampshire. I was already 5ft 8in and everything was so small I felt like I had been squashed into a doll’s house.
What is the best writing advice you have heard? Or: what advice would you give to your younger writing self?
If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second-greatest favour you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy (Dorothy Parker).
Who do you admire the most?
Which writer? Edna O’Brien. More generally, I admire everyone who tries not to be an asshole.
You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish?
I would get control of the money held by the handful of obscenely rich people who are running the world and tackle hunger.
What current book, film, TV show and podcast would you recommend?
This Train is For, short stories by Bernie McGill, No Alibis Press; Passing, directed by Rebecca Hall, Netflix; Black Butterflies, Netflix; Beo ar Éigean, podchraoladh den scoth as Gaeilge.
Which public event affected you most?
The Shankill Butchers’ trial.
The most remarkable place you have visited?
Baalbek, Lebanon: an insane blend of labne sandwiches, Roman temples and ornamental Hezbollah rockets.
Your most treasured possession?
My children, although they would contest my ownership.
What is the most beautiful book that you own?
My grandfather’s copy of Ernie O’Malley’s On Another Man’s Wound.
Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party?
None. I am not willing to be exposed as a chancer.
The best and worst things about where you live?
The best and worst thing about Sligo is the weather; it makes it wild and green but very wet.
What is your favourite quotation?
Youth is wasted on the young.
Who is your favourite fictional character?
Joe Logan in Jennifer Johnston’s Shadows on Our Skin.
A book to make me laugh?
Anything by Sam McAughtry.
A book that might move me to tears?
Bear in Mind These Dead, Susan McKay.
Trespasses is shortlisted for Irish Novel of the Year. The End of the World Is a Cul-de-Sac won the John McGahern Prize. Both are published by Bloomsbury
