Colin Walsh, having assumed an acting role in the Edinburgh Dungeon years earlier, had no inkling that his time spent terrifying tourists in grotesque make-up, underground, would later serve as a stepping stone in his writing career. However, reflecting today, Walsh, the author whose first book Kala bagged the Irish Book Award for Newcomer of the Year in 2023, realises that his job, bizarre as it was, provided invaluable training.
Confronted with every single tour group descending into the dungeon, he had to decide spontaneously on the best approach to engage them. “The decision is instantaneous: is it a group that will find humour enjoyable, or will excitement from fear be their preference? Or is there an individual you can spot who’s poised to scream, and this guides where to direct your focus,” he explains.
He believes that the odd routine of perpetually placing yourself in the audience’s position is beneficial to writing. This is because it aids in determining the optimal way to narrate a story, guide the reader through the experience, and fully utilise the desired impact within a specific chapter or scene.
“You never know when you’re acquiring knowledge or skills,” Colin notes. “Only afterwards do you see, ‘Ah, that’s probably its origin’.”
Colin, having obtained his degree, exited his birth town, Galway city, for a more nomadic lifestyle for many years. He travelled globally, did gigs as a musician, instructed TEFL, and listed 19 addresses. “It’s a source of family jest,” he adds as his aunties always inquire about his most recent address during Christmas.
Colin relocated from Galway to Quebec for work around the time of the Irish fiscal disaster, which forever modified his birthplace. “The turbulence dispersed and fragmented my circle of friends globally. Many didn’t elect to return. It was a defining period for our generation”, he adds.
Upon his return home, he was enveloped by a pervasive sense of alteration. His hometown, Galway, which he had envisioned would remain constant, had morphed into a strange entity. “I recall my return to Galway being intensely peculiar,” he admits. “For the first time in my existence, I walked down Shop Street without recognising a single soul. The population had dwindled, with numerous faces missing. Local establishments were also shuttered. The whole aura of the place had shifted dramatically.
“As a youth, you naturally believe that you’re the protagonist of your world and that the external environment remains static. The concept that things stay the same while you’re away, and that home will always be the same. The truth is rather sobering, while you’re away, it’s not only you that undergoes changes. Home evolves too, necessitating the negotiation or establishment of relations. This humbling reality debunked my juvenile sense of entitlement rapidly”.
He didn’t actively link this awakening to his novel Kala’s themes while writing, yet he recognises how his feelings of displacement and longing for an idealised home that may not truly exist fed into the narrative. The novel resonates with nostalgic stories of youthful, sun-soaked summers.
“Nostalgia can entice you to create a romanticised, static recollection of the past.” he muses. “You impose a structure onto your past that wasn’t present during the actual experience.”
Let’s consider Joe, one of Kala’s three narrators. Currently a renowned musician, Joe had humble beginnings in a small town. He sees his hometown as a place to find authenticity and nourishment, according to Walsh. Yet, Kala’s unfolding events disrupt Joe’s presumptions exposing the instability he had hoped to avoid by returning home.
After an extensive period of globetrotting, Walsh decided to settle down in the rural vicinity of Brussels. He relocated to Belgium in 2013, intending to pursue a Master’s at KU Leuven Institute of Philosophy. His time at the institution helped foster in him an intense sense of discipline that proved valuable when he ventured into fiction writing. Walsh describes the institute as being very demanding, razor-sharp and not for the thin-skinned. However, it was this environment that honed his focus.
Walsh was recognised as the Hennessy New Irish Writer of the Year 2019. At the time, he was surviving on his savings, devoting most of his time to intense studying. This period, he believes, was transformative. It taught him to surrender his ego to discipline and bring honesty and modesty to his work. It was the key in crafting his approach to fiction writing. Walsh believes his ego can hinder his work, so philosophy taught him how to sideline his ‘self.’
Yet, with philosophy, Walsh felt an ongoing struggle to fit the elusive and mutable aspects of human existence into some kind of metaphysical framework. He realized that fiction offered a medium where he wasn’t bound to confine these elements into set concepts but could express the inherent complexity of human life without necessarily providing solutions. It allowed him to acknowledge these aspects without the compulsion to resolve them.
Intriguingly, Walsh admits to having been so engrossed in philosophy, history, and politics that he hadn’t picked up any fiction for years. A defining moment happened when he read the Booker Prize-winning ‘A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James, which turned his life around completely. Walsh had received an offer to pursue a PhD in philosophy at Penn State University in the USA. This was significant, not least because he was out of funds, and the offer came with a stipend. Declining the opportunity meant facing financial difficulties. Yet it also acted as a financial safety net, leaving him with a crucial decision to make.
Reading “A Brief History of Seven Killings” acted as an unmistakable catalyst, igniting an internal desire to pursue writing within Colin Walsh. Throughout life, critical junctures occur prompting decisions that drastically shape one’s existence, he comments. He often ponders about his hypothetical life, had he relocated to the United States.
Following his decision not to move, he faced financial struggles which, although daunting and stress-inducing, never deterred his determination. With no financial security net, he was able to scrape together enough for monthly living expenses. Despite occasional doubts about his choice, he felt confident he was on the right track. He began to pen short stories and his talent was recognised when he was crowned the winner of the RTÉ Francis McManus competition a year later. This was the first indication he wasn’t misguided.
His achievements continued with his work being featured in the Stinging Fly. In 2019, he was awarded the prestigious title of Hennessy New Irish Writer of the Year. 2022 saw his novel “Kala” enter a bidding war, ultimately won by Atlantic Books in the UK. Further success followed when his work drew interest from publishers in North America and even attracted attention from television networks proposing a miniseries adaptation of his novel. “Kala” did not disappoint upon release, skilfully merging the psychological depth of literature with the pace and excitement of a thriller.
Walsh wonders if he could have authored “Kala” had he remained in Ireland. As a writer, he believes one must maintain a degree of detachment, observing life from a slight remove. Writing demands this sense of exteriority, he explains, providing a unique vantage point to curate time and events. Living outside of Ireland offered him a distinct perspective, one which he might not have acquired had he stayed. Living overseas and travelling broadened his horizons, allowing him to perceive the world without strict boundaries and letting fresh, beneficial experiences permeate his consciousness.
“Kala” is available for purchase from Atlantic Books.
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