Showing posts with label Nuala Ní Chonchúir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nuala Ní Chonchúir. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Interview
I've been a massive fan of Nuala O' Connor's writing since I started blogging, back in 2009, so it's something of a dream-come-true to have been invited to her blog Women Rule Writer for this interview with Leanne Radojkovich about writing and illustrating First fox (The Emma Press).
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
By jove
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| Click on cover to buy. |
Joyride
to Jupiter blog tour
I’ve
just finished my Joyride to Jupiter
and, by Jove, I’m chuffed to bits that Nuala O’Connor, the author of this
deeply moving and provocative collection of short stories is here to answer
some of my questions. Welcome, Nuala.
Your short story collections are
something of masterclasses
of the form.

And I know
you write novels and poetry too.
I wonder if you think the form a challenge
still, and what keeps you coming back to short stories, given that novels are
often regarded as more lucrative and poetry more respected?
Short fiction is a deeply challenging
form; I fear stories and love them. I’m afraid because when I finish one, I
find it hard to believe I’ll ever write another one. I wasn’t always like that
– things spilled out of me. But my head has shifted into the long mode of the
novel and that’s a building and rebuilding process that takes years. Whereas
the story is a faster, freer construction, and it has teetering legs. I wish
story writing was easier, less fraught. Conversely that wobbly tension and
intensity is also what I like about them – there’s an element of puzzle solving
and the scale feels minute but important. I adore the detail of short fiction,
the balancing of motifs and characters and events. Stories are so stunning when
done well – people like Alison MacLeod and Flannery O’Connor amaze me with
their exquisite stories. I long to be that
good so I keep trying.
You
recently wrote a piece for the Irish Times, saying:
“When
I write about subjects that are close to me, such as pregnancy loss and
secondary infertility, I don’t aim to write to expunge myself of grief, but to
work out what happened and why, to get a clear view of a chain of events, and
to see how my characters are able to deal with their troubles on an emotional
level. To see how they survive.”
I
was reading Louise Glϋck’s “Telescope” around
the same time, that is a sort of demonstration of the curiosity you describe, I
think, but a more obvious analysis.
“There is a moment when you move your eye
away...”
The chain is there: the reader is watching the poet watching
themselves, yet the reader can only watch.
“…then you’re in the world again, at
night on a cold hill, taking the telescope apart.”
Glϋck’s observation is clinical – contrasting with the
humanity it reveals – whereas your prose makes the reader less a voyeur and
more a participant in the humanity of your subjects, so that when your stories’
people are behaving in ways that are deeply complexly troubling, such as Mr
Halpin in the title piece, we aren’t on a cold hill observing the writer’s
experiment, we are immersed, uncomfortably close yet able to understand in a
way that perhaps we might never be if we were only shown.
It’s
more than “How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?” (E. M. Forster,
Aspects of the Novel), isn’t it? But is it as simple as showing people who
fuck, shit and fart? What do you think you do with the short story that makes
the reader a participant rather than watcher?
I try to be my characters, to see the world as they see it even if, like Mr
Halpin, that’s in a skewed, unsavoury way. So I might not agree with, or
approve of, things my characters believe or get up to, but I want to write
about people who are not paragons. None of us are, we all have weirdo
tendencies and those are the things that are interesting for an author to
explore. Every character, no matter how horrid (think Humbert in Lolita) has to have a saving grace or
two.
It’s funny when other people start to
comment about how unlikable certain characters of mine are – I often don’t see
it like that. You grow fond of all kinds of nasties when you invent them. Also,
I sometimes wonder if people have incredibly sheltered lives, or maybe they
just don’t read widely, or if that limited reaction is a form of
holier-than-thou-ness. It may be an Irish thing, we have a faux openness that
conceals all kinds of murkiness that we like to pretend doesn’t exist.
In
your book’s epigraph, you quote from Ovid’s Ars
Amatoria, a work in which Ovid uses a form of poetry reserved for elegy to
write a textbook on love; Joyride to Jupiter evokes the happy excitement of
young and godly love yet the stories offer far more mature and nuanced
variations of love:
“But she looks happily bewildered,
because I know what to do to make her feel good and she responds as she always
did, with grunts of pleasure and fierce kisses.
Afterwards we eat. This
has been our ritual for fifty years.” – Joyride to Jupiter, p6
“My parents’ marriage didn’t age
well, there was a certain disgust for each other in all interactions towards
the end.” – Consolata, p17
“I open my arms and the Yellow
descends, poised as a hawk.” – Yellow, p27
“Jesus Christ, no wonder she had to
resort to vials and petri dishes and the syringed swimmers of a stranger.” –
The Donor, p30
“I sit there and mull over how best
to get Lota to help Tito and his brother. Perhaps if I spoil her a little, I
will get my way; she responds well to devotion.” – The Boy from Petrópolis, p41
“I snorted at the idea of anyone
having an affair with my tub-tastic brother-in-law, but Beatrice had turned
forty shades of puce.” – Napoli Abú, p49
“He gripped the steering wheel and
grunted, an attempt to quell the loss surging up through him.” – Tinnycross,
p61
“You saw his naked body and what
fifty-three years had made of it. And he saw you seeing him.” – Fish, p63
“Maria wondered about all the lives
that went on in the apartments in the quays and the house in Inchiore and Bluebell:
the sex, the sorrow, the shame that filled those rooms, under lights and in
darkness, seven days a week.” – Futuretense®, p65
“To my daily surprise the mirror
above the sink tells me that I am old.” – Squidinky, p82
“Malachy stopped and stared at his
nephew.” – Men of Destiny, p92
“I wish some fella would grab me
sometime, in front of him, and kiss the face off me. That’d shake him.” – Penny
and Leo and Married Bliss, p99
“Her hands come around your front and
she unbuttons the top of your uniform.” Room 313, p107
“Maybe she has imagined this person,
this stench-less demigod; her loneliness has conjured him out of the air.” Mayo
Oh Mayo, p115
“Give me sirens and buses and neon
any day. I’m high on the hog here, all right; Parnell behind me, the Spire
before me, and Daniel O’Connell himself down the other end, standing proud. –
Jesus of Dublin, p127
“She bobs down to tread water and
looks up at him. Over the sloshing of the river she can hear him grunt.” – Shut
Your Mouth, Hélène, p135
“I sit on the bed beside her and she
climbs into my lap and looks up into my face; she puts her hands in mine and
with them, I know, all of her faith.” – Girlgrief. P138
“I am thinner now, a shade of the
girl who tripped up and down Nun’s Island with a different man on her arm each
month.” – American Wake, p141
“We head south because there is a
place that Fergus thinks I will like. I am content to be a passenger, inert and
quiet; content to be led.” – Storks, p145
Ovid was known for irony, though
there’s a suggestion Ars Amatoria was
intended to change society for the good of women. “Storks”, the final story in
your collection, deals with exactly the sort of issues you’ve dealt with
personally, as referred to in the Irish Times piece mentioned earlier. I found
myself pulled into stark self-analysis as I read it, having miscarried a few
weeks ago. It could be bleak and grief-weighty, but instead it lifts off into
hopeful optimism. Talk a little about your intentions and hopes for the
collection.
I’m sorry to hear you lost your pregnancy,
Rae, it’s a difficult thing to go through.
This collection is several years
work, maybe seven. I was writing novels during that period, not concentrating
on stories at all, many of them were commissions that I had to complete from snippets.
But there are patterns and obsessions that run through the book: fertility
issues and pregnancy loss, ageing, infidelity, the sea (I live in a landlocked
county), the Virgin Mary (I thought I was over her but, no). So although these
stories are collected, they belong to a time period and my passions and
interests over those years. They belong to each other and, yet, they are
discrete pieces. I hope that they feel a little cohesive as a read but also
that their individuality shines through too. It’d please me if readers were
discomfited but also that they might cry and laugh. My biggest hope is that readers
like the language because language is my god.
Amen to your use of language, Nuala. Thanks so much for coming to talk about Joyride to Jupiter - it's a stellar collection and I wish you the universe for success.
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| Click on author pic for link to blog. |
Nuala O’Connor AKA Nuala Ní Chonchúir was born in Dublin, she lives in East Galway. Her fifth short story collection Joyride to Jupiter was published by New Island in June 2017. Penguin USA, Penguin Canada and Sandstone (UK) published Nuala’s third novel, Miss Emily, about the poet Emily Dickinson and her Irish maid. Miss Emily was shortlisted for the Bord Gáis Energy Eason Book Club Novel of the Year 2015 and longlisted for the 2017 International DUBLIN Literary Award. Nuala’s fourth novel, Becoming Belle, will be published in 2018. www.nualaoconnor.com
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
As kings or serfs
Click on the cover to buy.
Miss
Emily Blog Tour
Ms Rae Has a Visitor!
Thanks be – it’s Nuala O’Connor on the
blog to talk about her latest novel, MissEmily.
The Dickinson household is saved from domestic chaos with the arrival of Ada Concannon, a “neat little Irish person, fresh off the boat”. Amherst in the 1800s is a pastoral environment for the homesick young maid who finds in the gifted middle child, Emily, a fellow feeling; they were born on the same day, they share a sense of mischief and a love of baking. Emily’s fledgling poetry and passion for words is her true vocation but as it begins to dominate her mind, she retreats from the small world around her and enters her infamous white phase. The friendship that forms between the two women is tested when Ada’s personal safety and reputation is violated and Emily finds herself tasked with defending her maid against her own family and those she loves, with shocking consequences.
The Dickinson household is saved from domestic chaos with the arrival of Ada Concannon, a “neat little Irish person, fresh off the boat”. Amherst in the 1800s is a pastoral environment for the homesick young maid who finds in the gifted middle child, Emily, a fellow feeling; they were born on the same day, they share a sense of mischief and a love of baking. Emily’s fledgling poetry and passion for words is her true vocation but as it begins to dominate her mind, she retreats from the small world around her and enters her infamous white phase. The friendship that forms between the two women is tested when Ada’s personal safety and reputation is violated and Emily finds herself tasked with defending her maid against her own family and those she loves, with shocking consequences.
“Only this morning I dropped a spoon
first and soon after a knife, so I knew a visitor would be calling before the
day was out.” p33
They do say Ms Rae loves company, do they not?
They do say Ms Rae loves company, do they not?
Ms Rae:
“A Resonance of Emerald”
Miss
Emily was my fond companion from first page
to last. It’s presence in my hand was wont to set tongues wagging. I love that
you gave equal voice to the characters of Emily Dickinson and Ada, her Irish
maid, and I wanted to ask you – as a working-class woman myself – if you
considered how important your novel is in that it portrays a strong
working-class protagonist, if not on equal footing, at least in terms of equal
significance to readers?
Ms
Nuala:
Yes, it was important. The novel is as
much about social division as about friendship. Can people across classes
really be proper friends or is there always an imbalance? Ada is not a
sorrowful immigrant – she is a strong, forward-looking young woman who delights
in the adventure of leaving Ireland for America. It was important that she had
equal footing with Emily Dickinson in the novel, so it is a dual narrative
where the two women narrate alternate chapters.
Ms Rae:
“There’s a certain Slant of Light”
Ada is not the only working-class
character – no token friendship here – as Emily’s confidante, sister-in-law
Sue, a near constant in the real Emily’s life, also features prominently in Miss Emily. Real-life Susan was the
daughter of a taverner, rising through the social ranks by virtue of his death
and her marriage to Emily’s brother, Austin. Miss Emily captures the transformative essence of Dickinson’s
poetry. And as with her poetry – what is often most notable is what is omitted
from it – so much resides within a dash – so it is with details of Emily and
Sue’s relationship.
“…as
always with Sue, I bend to her desire. Her mind is occupied with Austin and
with ironing out domestic rucks, which is as it should be. We drink our tea and
listen to the clock tick and Baby Martha’s fossicking noises from her
bassinette. If Sue cannot come to me in Spirit today, all I can do is endure
it; there are days when she cools and retreats and this is one of them, I fear.
We sit on, drink our tea, and the clock’s pendulum seems to become drowsy and
ponderous, as if the air has grown fat. The ticking sounds sluggish to my ears,
it goes slow, slow, slow, then, halt.” p136
Your portrayal of Sue is remarkably
nuanced – she is adorer of and adored
by Emily, but she is also snobbish,
particularly towards Ada. I thought you captured the internal anguish a woman
from Sue’s beginnings must have had in the presence of someone who would have
reminded her how easily traversed the social ladder could be – how one might
slip down its rungs as rapidly as one had climbed – and I wondered how much you
consciously cultivated these nuances and how much of Sue’s character was
evident from documentation, correspondence with Emily, and so forth? Susan is a
triumph of characterisation. Could you talk a little about the research process,
what went into the book?
Ms
Nuala:
Sue is problematic in that a lot of our
views on her (other than Emily’s) come from people with agendas, like her
husband’s mistress and that woman’s daughter. She has been painted rather
black, but Emily saw her as luminous and really appreciated everything about
Sue – her cleverness, her social skills, her beauty. I took my portrait of her
mostly from Emily and a little from the hearsay. With Emily and Ada both so
good-natured, I needed the balance of semi-villains and so I made Austin and
Sue those people. It felt slightly betraying but, in terms of fiction, it has
to be done. Two Dickinson scholars are in the process of writing new
biographies of Sue and I really hope they unearth more of the good things about her.
Ms Rae:
“The Heart asks Pleasure – first – ”
One of my favourite parts of the novel
is when Miss Emily narrates of Ada’s feelings for Daniel Byrne as Ada tends to
Emily’s dresses – her favourite being “a snowy cotton wrapper with
mother-of-pearl buttons and a pocket” – I especially love the duality of the
prose:
I
court vicariously through Ada and Daniel Byrne; I watch their shy, sweet
glances tossed like luck pennies back and forward in the kitchen. Sometimes a
stray penny lands on me and I pocket it gratefully. p118
I fair marvel at the outward
observation’s facilitating the reader’s insight into Miss Emily’s life and
character. But I especially admire how you fashion not only the machinery of
Emily’s poetry, her character and mind and words, but also the storehouse for
them, such as her pockets. You marry metaphor and fact as perhaps only a poet
could. An acclaimed poet yourself, where did your interest in this particular
story spring?
Ms
Nuala:
I loved Emily’s poetry at school – it
appealed to my sense of teenage gothic gloom. We didn’t read her happy poems
much! I heard a few years ago that Emily loved to bake, as I do, so I began to
bake her recipes for Black Cake, Coconut Cake and gingerbread and I was
thinking about Irish domestics and it all coalesced into a poem first and gradually
a novel.
Ms Rae:
“The Soul selects her own Society”
Emily didn’t take to housework – or
receiving visitors, unlike Sue – nor it seems did Ada, though she didn’t have
much choice! “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers –”. There’s a description of
Ada dusting and another of her cajoling hens to lay, and of her plucking one
(standing over it, not hung as was her mother’s preference) –
nature domesticated is abundant in Miss Emily, described so beautifully by
Emily and, surprisingly, Ada. Even when describing the view of her home town as
the boat pulls her away, Ada says, “Dublin lies like a big dozy cow, not able
to shake the sleep off herself.” In another section of the novel, Miss Emily
explains to Ada about her name being a palindrome and I thought it a great
analogy for reflection, for Emily and Ada being so alike but for their
circumstances differing.
Emily: Ada, you are like a breath from Madagascar p45
Ada:
I shrug but, truth be told, I am as pleased as a dog with two pockets. p47
Could you talk a little about the
importance of nature to both Emily and Ada, and where your inspiration for Ada
came from?
Ms
Nuala:
Emily loved to bake, which is one type
of housework, and she also loved all natural things – much of her oeuvre is
about nature and/or uses images from the natural world. She was a devoted
gardener, like her mother, and she studied botany at school. Ada grew up in
Tigoora in west Dublin which is, essentially, the Liffey Valley, so she was
immersed in rivers, trees and flowers, much as Emily was.
I needed to invent a maid to give me
fictional freedom as I was already working with the facts of the Dickinson
lives. However I made Ada a cousin of one of the Dickinsons’ real Irish maids,
Maggie Maher, who was a Tipperary native. In that way Ada is still connected
firmly to reality and history.
Ms Rae:
“Fame is a bee.”
Considering how prolific Dickinson was,
little of her work was published in her lifetime and, it seems, even her own
family knew not of the volume she had written until after her death. And it was
much later still when her poems were published as they had been written in her
hand. Contrast this with what would be recorded of a maid, however, and the
picture for the majority of women of the period in which Emily lived appears
like a faded Daguerreotype. You are brilliant at recording lives and moments of
women’s existences that would otherwise go unwritten. What would you like your
legacy to be?
Sue lifted her face to me. “I really
liked the poem you sent to me yesterday, Emily. There is such joy in it. I
could not say I understood it all, but the image of the bee was rather
beautiful. You find poetry everywhere, my dear.”
Ms
Nuala:
Women are horribly absent from our
historical education, as we know. Today they are also still not hugely visible
in many professions, including the writing world. Like many historical fiction
writers who take women as their main characters (Emma Donoghue, for example), I
want to bring women in history into the light. Social, domestic and material
history are much more interesting to me than, say, warfare. I find the term
‘Herstory’ a bit clunky but maybe it’s one to embrace? So, in terms of legacy,
I want to add to the herstoriness of history, rewrite the script and look at
women mostly, but also look at people as people first, as opposed to as kings
or serfs.
Nuala O'Connor was born in Dublin, Ireland, she lives in
East Galway. Already well-known under the name Nuala Ní Chonchúir, she has
published four short story collections, the most recent Mother America appeared from New Island in 2012. Her third
poetry collection The Juno Charm was published by Salmon Poetry in 2011 and
Nuala’s critically acclaimed second novel The
Closet of Savage Mementos appeared
April 2014, also from New Island; it was shortlisted for the Kerry Irish Novel
of the Year Award 2015. In summer 2015, Penguin USA, Penguin Canada and
Sandstone (UK) publish Nuala’s third novel, Miss
Emily, about the poet Emily Dickinson and her Irish maid. www.nualanoconnor.com
And find out about the research process here.
Nuala O’ Connor
Published 20th August
p/b £8.99
978191024550
e-book £8.99
9781910124567
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