Can you talk us through the themes, content and stylistic choices in your maiden anthology of short tales, Free Therapy?
The anthology features characters who, despite their best efforts to hide it, are perpetually repeating their past erroneous ways. These individuals are rather indefinite, prone to dishonesty and struggle with accountability. The glimmers of their personal growth are overshadowed by their inability to transform their core natures. I am partial to examining the internal mental state and enjoy delving into the mental and emotional fabric of a character, their struggle expressing themselves and how it impacts their relationships. I dig deep into their fleeting encounters with strangers, underscored by the impact these interactions leave on them. Their work-related preoccupations, the financial stress they deal with and their brush with therapy – both direct and indirect – is another theme I enjoy exploring as I am keen on understanding the way people think and feel.
What influences have shaped your writing?
My writing has been significantly shaped by the narrative styles of strong women in my family including my mother, grandmothers and aunts. Growing up surrounded by women with a knack for storytelling inadvertently shaped my own storytelling abilities – they were naturally humorous and I was always an avid listener. Even today, I savour the rich conversations of other people. The conversations amongst my partner’s family, their unique linguistic nuances, and the impact they have on me long after I’ve parted ways with them, continue to inspire my writings. Notably, the work of accomplished authors like Lorrie Moore, Vivian Gornick, Richard Yates, Anne Tyler, Mary Gaitskill and Lucia Berlin has ignited my passion for dissecting human emotions and psychologically driven narratives.
Could you discuss your reasons for joining a therapy group at the age of nineteen, where the majority of members were significantly older than yourself? Did this experience influence your work on Free Therapy in any way?
During my teenage years, I was riddled with self-doubt and continually embarrassed by my identity and my activities. It is a sensation that probably besets many writers, and I dare say, most teenagers. Unfortunately, private therapy, which could have been beneficial, was beyond my financial reach, and there were no alternatives that I was aware of at the time. Despite that, the group therapy I did get involved in proved to be constructive in normalising my experiences and thoughts. While I was the youngest participant there, most of the group being in their 30s, I succeeded in creating connections with individuals who were far more versed in the art of living than I was. Despite our stark differences, we were united by our weekly therapeutic meetings. On occasions, I felt a trifle foolish owing to my age, yet this allowed for growth and maturity.
As a youngster with rather limited life experience, attending therapy could potentially create an inflated sense of wisdom. In my view, there are some life lessons that can only be assimilated through firsthand experience. Looking back, I find it somewhat mortifying to think of my teenage self offering advice to a group of individuals far more experienced than I was. How they received it with grace still amazes me, but the thought that my contribution could have been fruitful seems daunting currently. My fear is that I came across as quite presumptuous, which, indeed, might be an extension of my ingrained self-awareness. Notwithstanding, I applaud therapy for being a powerful instrument for self-discovery and continue to attend individual sessions myself. However, certain misconceptions are to be avoided—for instance, the idea that therapy can replace the necessity for failure and mistakes in character building. I suggest therapy is best utilised as a means of fostering resilience to weather life’s storms rather than evading them.
About to turn 31, I recollect, with a shade of embarrassment and regret, how self-conscious I was about my body size during my adolescence, obsessing over it daily. Although it’s a bitter pill to swallow, I accept I wasn’t alone in this struggle.
The question remains: How can one ensure that therapeutic jargon doesn’t become a manipulative strategy?
From my perspective, I believe I have a robust sense of humour and wouldn’t dream of communicating with my loved ones, especially my pragmatic boyfriend, in the therapeutic jargon you often hear. There has been extensive debate around the use of such language to camouflaged manipulative behaviour. Additionally, I feel it’s employed as a method to circumvent straightforward and sincere interaction with ourselves and others. This language, in my view, can make an issue more complex and puzzling than necessary due to our candidness fear.
Can the introspective tendency push us to lose the grasp on the acute self-consciousness therapy can provide?
Though I’m not an expert, I do believe it is possible. It concerns me that this process might turn me into a self-absorbed person, only caring for my own feelings and becoming rigid and unapproachable. I haven’t yet mastered standing up for myself, so it may take me some time to worry about this.
What if the therapy’s goal, which is correcting our flaws, could also take away the very quirks and uniqueness that make us who we are?
This thought crosses my mind frequently. Without personal experiences, would memoirs and biopics still hold the same appeal? However, I believe the objective of therapy is not to rid us entirely of our flaws as there is no foolproof remedy for human faults. I firmly believe therapy, although helpful, isn’t always the ultimate remedy.
Growing up as a young Irish woman is depicted in your narrative Push and Pull by the protagonist who goes on a radical diet and derives pleasure from the obliteration of her physical and mental self. How taxing is this experience?
As I approach my 31st birthday, reminiscing about my adolescence, I realise I was excessively concerned about my body’s size daily, an admission that both embarrasses and saddens me, but I doubt my experience was unique. The younger generation of women now focus more on strength than appearance, which, despite being a healthier obsession, I feel is still largely about how they look. In my teenage years, the goal was to be slim. Even now, as I look back, this is my most vivid recollection. Despite my interest in books, art, and music, I regret not investing more in these passions earlier.
How does your generation perceive or experience the world?
Identifying myself as a young millennial, my ambitions mirror those of my parents, but realising these dreams is becoming progressively more challenging. Even though I consider myself only 21 years old, I find it amusing when I encounter individuals my age who have already started their families. The idea often seems distant to me.
Would you care to share some details about your upcoming book titled Family Relations?
It is indeed fascinating that my forthcoming novel, Family Relations, due 2025, revolves around a couple who maintain their unhappy union long past the stage when they should have separated. This narrative is inspired by numerous Irish couples and explores how animosity can eventually soften, besides the fluctuations people experience in their love for the same individual. I am thoroughly enjoying the process of writing it!
Could you tell us about your current projects?
Apart from the novel, I am giving significant attention towards crafting more compelling essays.
Could you share the best piece of writing advice you ever received?
Sharing current projects with a handful of individuals who appreciate your work is helpful. Taking opinions from a vast variety of people unfamiliar with your work often leads to having to process a torrent of feedback, which can be overwhelming.
Who is your greatest source of admiration?
I enormously respect the relentless efforts of advocates and journalists, such as writer Mick Magee, who are bravely exposing the ongoing genocide in Palestine and supporting Palestinian writers and artists.
What would be your first act if you became the supreme ruler for a day?
If given the daunting power of a supreme leader, I’d promptly step down. Handling such enormous responsibilities would be too stressful for me. Juggling the uncomplicated aspects of my own life is challenging enough, let alone managing national infrastructure.
Do you have any books, films or podcasts you would like to recommend?
The top of my recommendations list includes the Heavyweight podcast hosted by Jonathan Goldstein. Although the podcast has currently been put on hold, the plentiful episodes available are worth it. Past Lives, currently available on Netflix, is a beautiful film. Lastly, In Ordinary Time, a memoir by Carmel McMahon, released last year, is a great read.
Thus, could you share with us the most striking place you have been to?
I ventured to a location known as Drumheller, situated in the Badlands of Alberta, in the year 2020. Its tranquillity was profound. This place holds the title of the dinosaur capital, derived from its extensive fossil excavation history. The topography vastly different from that of Ireland, it heavily resembled the North American terrains often seen in films and books. Alberta intrigued me in its entirety, largely because it is distanced so significantly from any sea.
What possession do you hold dear?
A precious relic I have is a comically illustrated sketch my late grandfather completed years ago. It was doodled on a hardware store flyer and presents a man, probably a representation of himself, mistakenly hammering his hand instead of the intended nail at a work station. My grandfather was a skilled artist, and it’s likely this drawing was made during a lull at his employment in the hardware store. This artwork resonates with me, particularly when I experience moments of desolation. It’s now framed for preservation.
What’s the most aesthetically pleasing book in your collection?
My pick would be ‘East of Eden’, gifted to me by Phil, my boyfriend’s father. Its beauty lies not just in the physical appearance, but the sentiment it holds for Phil, recounting memories of his youth and the impression it left on him. Receiving such cherished books provides a gentle reminder of how literature carries a lingering significance, long after we finish reading them.
Amusingly, I’m convinced it was one of John McGahern’s characters who pertly labelled someone as lackadaisical with the quip: “God gave him a brain to keep his ears apart”.
Which authors, regardless of their state of existence, would grace your dream banquet?
I am prone to nervousness around authors I hold in high regard, thus the event might be somewhat nerve-wracking. Nevertheless, I’d bravely invite Vivian Gornick, Nuala O’Faolain, Maeve Binchy, John McGahern, Richard Yates, among others including contemporary authors Anne Enright and Willy Vlautin to observe their interaction.
What stands out as positives and negatives about your place of residence?
I am fortunate that my flat offers an abundance of windows, offering views of an array of coniferous trees. The downside would perhaps be the absence of a nearby coffee house, although it’s a bearable inconvenience.
Do you have a quote you particularly admire?
While I do not have complete certainty, I somewhat believe that a John McGahern character made a humorous, yet harsh comment: “God only endowed him with intellect so he could keep his ears separate.” It’s terribly biting, but, lamentably, quite amusing.
Do you have a preferred character in a book?
My choice would be Bill Furlong from Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. His authenticity and gentle spirit make him appealing, plus I presume he’d be an agreeable companion. Del Griffith from Planes, Trains and Automobiles similarly piques my interest.
Could you recommend a book that could instigate laughter?
Admittedly, it’s a challenge for me to discover publications that provoke laughter. Perhaps I’d suggest Dress your Family in Corduroy and Denim, a series of essays penned by David Sedaris.
Is there a book that could elicit tears?
The Hero of This Book by Elizabeth McCracken has that potential. Its narrative revolves around an author’s relationship with her parents, particularly her amusing yet steadfast mother. The story revolves around loss, familial bonds, and the struggle with gradual disability – it’s a composition with profound influence.
Free Therapy will be released by Jonathan Cape come March 14th.