Tell us about your new novel, Paradise House
I’ve always been drawn to the “what if” moments of history — where a small shift could have changed everything. In Paradise House, I reimagine a version of James Joyce who stays in Dublin and turns his failed cinema venture into a glittering success. What if he became Ireland’s Gatsby — torn between ambition, love and betrayal, with revolution looming in the background? It’s both a reimagining of Joyce’s life and a twist on Fitzgerald’s themes of longing and reinvention.
The novel is influenced by F Scott Fitzgerald. What does his work mean to you?
Fitzgerald’s emotional precision has always resonated. He captures the way dreams decay into delusions with such clarity. Where Joyce maps the mind, Fitzgerald reveals the heart’s fractures. In Paradise House, I wanted to blend that lyrical heartbreak with the psychological intensity of modernism.
How do you see Paradise House fitting into the present moment?
It’s about people clinging to illusions as the world shifts around them – something that feels painfully current. But it also speaks to reinvention, to the hope that can rise even from ruins.
How do you balance history with fiction?
History is a backdrop, not a boundary. I read widely – letters, diaries, newspapers – to ground myself in the era, but fiction fills in emotional truth. It’s not about strict accuracy; it’s about creating something plausible and resonant.
The novel is set during a time of upheaval in Ireland. Did that appeal?
Absolutely. Writing about a world on the brink – where each day could bring catastrophe or change – felt both urgent and timeless. We all live through thresholds without realising it.
You are director of the UCD Mary Lavin Centre for Creative Writing. How does that influence your work?
Working with students is energising. They’re fearless, reminding me that writing is about chasing the story you can’t let go. Teaching also sharpens your own craft – you’re constantly questioning, revising and refining, in your students’ work and your own.
You co-authored bestselling crime novels as Karen Perry. What was that like?
The biggest thrill was the momentum – when you trust your co-writer, the story flies. The challenge, of course, is compromise. But surrendering total control can be surprisingly freeing.
Tell us about The Garden, your debut novel
The Garden is a dark, atmospheric story set on a Florida orchid farm after a hurricane. It follows Swallow, an Irish migrant, on a dangerous quest to find a rare ghost orchid. It’s about obsession, betrayal, and beauty – and drawn from my time working on an orchid farm in the 1990s.
Does your poetry influence your prose?
Very much so. Poetry teaches attentiveness – to rhythm, silence, subtext. I hope there’s a musicality in my prose, a sensitivity to cadence and breath.
You won the Hennessy First Fiction and New Irish Writer of the Year awards in 1998. How important was that?
Hugely. It was the first time I felt this might be a real path. That early encouragement gave me the confidence to keep going.
You went to the US on an athletics scholarship. Has that shaped your writing?
Definitely. It taught me discipline – showing up, failing, trying again. Sport has its own narrative arc, and that sense of pacing and pressure feeds into my fiction.
What are you working on now?
A novel called Nine Days from Heaven, about Samuel Beckett in the French Resistance. It’s about silence, betrayal, and the space between action and meaning. I also really want to write a sci-fi novel.
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
Yes – visiting Beckett’s grave in Montparnasse. The simplicity of that headstone is humbling. It reminds you the work endures.
Best writing advice you’ve received?
“Write the book only you can write.” It sounds simple – but it’s hard to follow.
Writers you admire most?
Writers such as Ali Smith and Max Frisch – those who pair emotional honesty with formal innovation. They never compromise on either.
You’re supreme ruler for a day. What law do you pass or abolish?
A living wage for artists. The myth of the starving genius is harmful nonsense.
Which book, film, and podcast would you recommend?
Book: Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammad – elegant and emotionally rich; film: All of Us Strangers – heartbreaking and haunting; podcast: West Cork – a gripping dive into a true Irish mystery.
Most powerful public event you attended?
Allen Ginsberg at Liberty Hall in 1993 – unforgettable.
Most remarkable place you’ve visited?
The Burren in Co Clare. It’s like walking on the moon.
Your most treasured possession?
A small prayer-book that belonged to my late mother.
Most beautiful book you own?
A battered old copy of William Trevor’s collected stories. Much loved, much read.
Dream literary dinner guests?
I hate dinner parties. Joyce and Fitzgerald once had dinner. Fitzgerald jumped out the window. I can relate.
Best and worst things about where you live?
Best: being close to the Dublin Mountains. Worst: the traffic.
Favourite quotation?
“Nothing human is alien to me.” – Terence
Favourite fictional character?
Jay Gatsby. Always reaching, always falling.
A book to make you laugh?
10:04 by Ben Lerner. Deadpan, witty, sharp.
A book that might move you to tears?
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. Subtle, devastating, unforgettable.
Paradise House is published by Somerville Press on May 22nd
