Your latest narrative involves Charlotte Brontë. Can you provide some details about it?
The tale revolves around famed writer Charlotte Brontë and her experiences in Ireland. Even though the suffering of the Brontë family is an ever-present narrative, Charlotte enjoyed a brief yet joyous matrimony with an Irish gentleman, Arthur Nicholls, and cherished their month-long honeymoon on the Irish isle. Furthermore, the narrative delves into the subsequent transformation of the Brontë legend.
Why did you decide to feature Charlotte Brontë as a main character in the novel?
Charlotte was an emblem of independence, creativity and bravery; she was a go-getter who was willing to gamble. She brought to life one of the most unforgettable characters in literature, Jane Eyre, equipping her with a trait she herself embodied: both Jane and Charlotte knew their worth.
How crucial are the Irish roots to Brontë sisters’ narrative?
Their father, Patrick Brontë, was a born storyteller, just like his forefathers. Raised on a mix of inherited and self-made tales, Charlotte developed a knack for ghost stories that sent a shiver down her contemporaries’ spines at school. This storytelling acumen, a gift from their Irish lineage, was crucial in their formation as writers. Moreover, the broad contour of Wuthering Heights is essentially a family story transmitted by Patrick, although Emily successfully tailored it. The theme of rebellion, consciously or unconsciously, features prominently in their works, stemming from their Irish roots.
There’s a mention of their uncle being a part of the United Irishmen.
The Brontë lineage, originally the Bruntys from Co Down, has diverse roots; Charlotte’s grandfather, Hugh Brunty, was a Protestant while grandmother, Alice McClory, was a Catholic. The United Irishmen association adhered to nonsectarian doctrines, and William Brunty, Patrick’s brother, actively participated in the ’98 Battle of Ballynahinch, after which he vanished.
Lastly, you were a co-creator of the first women-only festival in Ireland, the Derry/Donegal YES festival. Could you elaborate?
I am a proponent of a mutual agreement-oriented Ireland where different perspectives can come together and find a middle way. This notion led to the creation of No Ordinary Women, a series of public forums that took place during the June YES festival. The event had an admirable line-up of women speakers such as Mary Robinson, Miriam O’Callaghan, Caoilfhionn Gallagher, Susan McKay, Ailbhe Smyth and Orla Guerin. The gatherings attracted a broad spectrum of generations and fostered lively and intellectual discussions. Mrs Robinson’s guidance to the youthful ladies on braving their fears and taking action was indeed inspiring, presenting her as an excellent role model. Funding from Arts Over Borders, the European Union, the Department of Foreign Affairs among others was crucial to host these events given the costs associated with them.
[Provided by Martina Devlin: Somerville and Loss]
As a journalist, how does your profession impact your creative writing?
The principles of journalism highlight the need to captivate readers through your stories. My devotion to reporting is such that I would het hit by a double-decker before risking a missed deadline.
Throughout your career, you’ve interviewed several authors. Is Anthony Burgess still a top contender?
Burgess was an intriguing character indeed, but my friend Carlo Gébler has overtaken him as my favourite due to his exceptional skills, compassion, vast awareness, and cogitative prowess.
What are the advantages and disadvantages of narrating historical fiction based on genuine individuals or events?
Thorough research fascinates me, and when studying a real character, there’s always a trail to follow. The delivery of historical fiction comes with name recognition for readers. Nevertheless, it sometimes feels like a violation of someone’s life story.
Previously, you expressed the challenges faced by female authors when they write about contemporary subjects without being packaged as chick-lit. There is a distinct feminist undertone across your works from ‘The House Where it Happened’, a story revolving around the last witchcraft trial in Ireland in 1711, to the novel about Edith Somerville. Your works also include plays about Nora Barnacle, Countess Markievicz, and the short story collection, ‘Truth & Dare’. Of your twelve books, do you have a favourite?
Through my endeavours, the silence of the women recounted as witches has been shattered. I led a tireless campaigning for eight years, advocating for a plaque in Islandmagee bearing their names, which is now prominently displayed. Now we can no longer ignore them, instead, their stories provoke curiosity and incite queries.
Currently, my focus is on penning a novel that revolves around a woman artist in the early 19th century. I have a predilection for literary journeys, having visited the Bronte parsonage in Yorkshire, the Drishane House in Castletownshend belonging to Edith Somerville, the house of George Bernard Shaw in Hertfordshire (where a Somerville painting adorns a wall), Ibsen’s apartment in proximity to his local in Oslo, and also Ernest Hemingway’s Cuban residence, where, to my surprise, I found a Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” copy stacked in his lavatory.
The most beneficial advice about writing I’ve received is the importance of multiple revisions. I have profound admiration for Marian Keyes, who, despite her fame, assists other authors generously. If I were to decree a law for a day, I would champion the provision of free public transportation to deal with the climatic crisis we are facing earnestly.
I would recommend the new novel by Juliana Adelman, “The Grateful Water,” known for its immersive narrative, multicoloured characters, and gritty setting. The most significant public event in my life was the Good Friday Agreement, which resulted in life-sparing changes. This is the most influential event for me.
Iceland is the most splendid place I’ve set foot, from its striking landscapes, geysers, the Northern Lights, and even the gloves I tragically misplaced. My most cherished belonging is not an object but a living being, our 10-year-old tabby cat, Chekhov. Despite the matter of ownership, I am completely enamoured by him. His name is credited to Jennifer Johnston, another sublime talent I often fondly recollect.
The memoir, ‘The Price of my Soul’ by Bernadette Devlin, holds sentimental value for me as it belonged to my dad. Though it’s an aged, well-worn paperback, by holding it, I feel connected to something my father treasured.
In a theoretical dinner party with authors, both living and dead, I would invite Mary Wollstonecraft and her daughter Mary Shelley. It would be interesting to see them together since Shelley was only a few days old when her mother passed away. I would also like to have Margaret Atwood, due to her lively and vibrant personality. I would be keen to have Somerville and Ross, despite the possible critique they could voice regarding my fictionalisation.
Living where I do has its benefits like its proximity to the sea, my friends, cycling routes, and the Lexicon Library and Cultural Centre. However, I do miss the useful local stores which have given way to a profusion of cafes.
My favourite quote is by Mary Wollstonecraft, “I do not wish them [women] to have power over men, but over themselves.”
In the realm of fictional characters, my preference is the dynamic duo from Edna O’Brien’s revolutionary ‘The Country Girls’ trilogy, Cait and Baba. Their resilience stands the test of time.
The book ‘The Heart In Winter’ by Kevin Barry had me laughing so much that I immediately wanted to re-read it upon finishing. Contrarily, Catherine Dunne’s ‘A Good Enough Mother’ could cause me to shed a tear given its emotional depth. Her unique writing style forces us to reflect deeply upon ourselves.
My book, Charlotte, has been published by The Lilliput Press.