Colm Tóibín, a renowned Irish author, was one of the more surprising attendees during the recent Connacht senior Gaelic football championship match between Mayo and New York in Bronx. The manageable stadium has long anchored New York’s Irish inhabitants, representing a connection to their ancestral home. The massive Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA) stars’ summer visits were once like a mirage to them. Even though travel convenience has reduced the emotional gap between the US and Ireland, Gaelic Park remains a potent simulation of the Irish sporting environment, aside from the subway train noise, the baseball field and the intense sunlight.
On an early Sunday in April, with the sun shining brightly, 5,000 Mayo enthusiasts showed up to cheer on their team to a comfortable victory. Tóibín made his maiden appearance, along with his students from Columbia University, where he instructs a course on English literature during the spring term.
Meeting at the iconic Simon & Schuster building situated on 6th Avenue, he expressed, “I did not venture alone. I was in the company of my students and another novelist hailing from Boston. But it was an incredible experience. Just being an audience to Gaelic football was mesmerizing. The raw speed and intensity of it is unparalleled. The overwhelming presence of the Irish community was not a throwback to the 1950s. It was a thoroughly contemporary, important football game that I found enthralling. However, the casual demeanor of the spectators, their total acceptance that New York would host a Gaelic football game did not carry any sentimentality for the old homeland. It drove home the fact that I should pay more attention to this in my writings.”
Indeed, his recent novel, ‘Long Island’, revisits the vibrant mid-20th-century Irish immigrant society in the five boroughs of New York, who created their own version of Ireland in their new abode.
The story of Eilis Lacey, a determined young woman from Wexford in the 1950s, returning to Brooklyn introduced us to the narrative in 2009. Amidst the crowd, she made the journey to New York, adjusting gradually to its vast dissimilarity, unfamiliar echo, and startling oddness. Her adaptation was successful and even involved an undisclosed wedding. After an unforeseen visit to Ireland, she faced an internal struggle during an extended warm-toned Irish summer. She was torn about whether to go back to the fresh life she had started to build in New York and, in turn, permanently abandon her native home and a significant romance behind.
This narrative, in part, represents a reflection on a bygone era of Irish and embodies a quintessential love saga. The story was transformed into a film named Brooklyn in 2015 and it received three Oscar nominations including Best Picture and Best Actress, the latter for the extraordinary portrayal of a characteristic mid-20th-century Irish femininity by Saoirse Ronan. Both the readers and spectators shared a sense of nostalgia, contemplating the fate of Eilis Lacey, similar to how Irish families wondered for years about their loved ones who embarked on the same journey and sporadically communicated through letters or phone calls, if at all. In his presentation of Long Island, Tóibín understood he was addressing many of these curiosities which naturally involved certain risks.
He admits, acknowledging the suggestion with widening eyes and a backwards lean.
“The peril, I guess, could be referred to as tackiness,” he quickly confesses as he chuckles, his thoughts picking up momentum around the subject.
Colm Tóibín, the acclaimed author, implied that his popular novel, Brooklyn, managed to sell more copies than any other piece of writing he’d composed. Despite this, he never intended to pen a direct sequel. He believes that if there was more to add, it should ideally have been included in the original book. On the flip side, he also reflected that he had a few new concepts in mind. He gestured towards the Simon & Schuster building, mentioning how they never pressured him to stick to sequels or branching narratives, even when he presented them with a variety of unrelated novels. They very much allowed him to tread his own path with his literature, WIthout external pressures, he wrote a fresh beginning for a new story, turning the first three pages into a sequel to the opening, not Brooklyn.
Tóibín’s intriguing communication style necessitates an audio recording for any interview, his anecdotes are delivered with humor and theatricality, he naturally sways from whispers to loud laughter, and garners surprised glances when he brings up unexpected topics. His warmth and chatter make conversation engaging.
Years back, Tóibín stumbled upon an idea that eventually found its place in the title of his book, Long Island, while in a Catholic choir on New York’s Upper West Side. The local church was overpopulated by Irish names, commemorating parishioners and priests who had long passed away. He later asked a local where the Irish community might have migrated after being priced out of northern Manhattan, to which the reply was: “Ah, they went out to Long Island”. Tóibín retained and used this information while writing Brooklyn, incorporating it into a scene where Tony, Eilis’s Italian-American consort, takes her to a greenfield and envisions their future together.
While filming, director John Crowley sought insight from the author about any specific details he wanted to incorporate into the scenes. The author asked Crowley to pay particular attention to the scene where the two main characters are in the greenfield area, and one is explaining the future infrastructure to the other. The author appreciates how Crowley manipulated the scene in the movie, providing a comprehensive view of the characters in a panoramic form.
The author, who writes in longhand, admitted that he often had to rewrite each word to make it perfect – exemplifying his meticulous editing process during the creation of his novel, “Long Island”. The narrative begins with Eilis and Tony, who now have teenagers and are dealing with a marital disaster, against the unsettling backdrop of the 1970s and the chaos following Nixon’s resignation. When he penned “Brooklyn”, he confessed it was his first time feeling confident enough to trace a character’s journey in a linear fashion.
His 2004 piece “The Master”, which portrays a significant turning point in the life of his literary hero Henry James, takes inspiration from James’s real-life timeline as he detailed in an essay for The Guardian. In this essay, he recounts a peculiar encounter with Bernardo Bertolucci, an esteemed Italian filmmaker, interested in adapting his book into a movie. Bertolucci particularly expressed his admiration for a single scene set in Venice involving James, another writer named Constance Fenimore Woolson, and a gondolier. Bertolucci so enjoyed this scene that he wanted to base the film entirely on it, dismissing the rest for lacking a conventional narrative structure, much to the author’s amusement.
Long Island serves as a distinctive backdrop for Tóibín’s narrative. From the outset, Tóibín was cognisant that his story was tightly-woven and plot focused. Without giving away too much, we can disclose that circumstances prompt Eilis to return hastily to Enniscorthy, bringing her children along. The lion’s share of the novel is set in the town she had left behind. Highlighting a theme Tóibín has previously emphasised, the idea that once an exile returns home, life previously made elsewhere swiftly crumbles and turns into a vague dream. Reunited with her quick-witted, capable mother in her childhood home, Eilis reconnects with the individuals she left behind post-Brooklyn. The characters include her friend Nancy, who is a widow now, and Jim Farrell, who is single and manages the family pub. Eerily present throughout is the memory of her deceased sister, Rose.
Tóibín comments on his mix of traditional plotting and surprise elements. He speaks of being surrounded by several novel theorists due to his affiliation with Columbia University. He talks about the essence of a plot, an action leading to unpredictable repercussions that must be narrated. However, action itself does not suffice. The methodology involved in piecing everything back together after a metaphorical explosion is indispensable.
Finishing the book over a year ago, Tóibín opted to delay its publication. The author reflects seriously on his yearlong companionship with the manuscript, during which he could not leave it untouched. He invested countless nights refining the style and tone of the narrative, striving for a simplistic, unostentatious style. He consistently printed the manuscript, repeatedly scrutinising it, and removing any superfluous elements.
This iterative process of refining, he explains, is a downward movement. An endeavour to identify words, phrases, and endings that are redundant, always asking whether each sentence is doing its due work.
In the process of his novel’s creation, he reduced an extra 12,000 words. It wasn’t just about removing excess, it was an exploration of the character Eilis – a woman of few words. His novel reflects his meticulous crafting of a fleeting scene from the beginning, where Eilis reveals undisclosed information about Tony. She is seething as she continues the mundane routine of preparing the evening’s food, debating if she should serve Tony’s meal in his lap.
The challenge for him was to subtly reveal to Tony that she knows, without explicitly stating it. He contemplated whether he could masterfully depict the scene by having Eilis tilt the plate. He wasn’t sure how to execute it. There was uncertainty about which sequence of actions she should follow. Eilis was to have a straight face, no blushing and no expression of feelings. It’s written from her perspective, just showing her actions.
He realised later that the plate-tilting scenario was inappropriate. It seemed overdramatic and excessively illustrative. He was left wondering, is it like lifting a scene from a film? Should he reduce the drama a bit more? He didn’t want to resort to a simple ‘glare’ at Tony, as the word ‘shoot’ wasn’t fitting; it’s a metaphor. Thoughts of Eilis making eye contact whilst spinning around also felt wrong. All the possible portrayals were tested. At night, the writing seemed fine but every morning, it felt terrible. Being a longhand writer, he had to rewrite every word. Hence, it was an ongoing process of exclusion and restraint.
He confessed that the hustle and bustle of New York didn’t resonate with him. His residence on Riverside offered tranquillity, akin to a peaceful educational campus. It was serene and pleasant; precisely the kind of life he desired.
Nan Graham, senior vice-president of the publishing house and long-time editor of renowned author, Tóibín, enters the room, interrupting his hearty laughter. She cheerily inquires, “Yeats, is that the topic at hand?”. Tóibín, caught off guard for a moment, responds, “No, we’re actually discussing the blend of gossip and secrecy that characterises Irish towns, a field of knowledge you’re now quite familiar with.”
Graham chimes in with a jocular comment, “Surely, there’s no shortage of lenient tongues and untold secrets!” Having worked alongside Tóibín since he brought out The Heather Blazing in 1991, the seasoned author recalls how they both ended up relocating to the same area. “It’s a strange coincidence,” he remarks. Graham then notifies him of a waiting old chum.
Tóibín, despite his long association with New York through his writing and lecturing, admits the city’s allure fails to captivate him unlike most others. While he appreciates the tranquility of his Riverside residence and confesses his fondness for the place, he never resonated with New York’s pulsating energy. He compares his Riverside dwelling to a “university village,” isolated, peaceful, and mostly populated by students despite the smattering of ritzy restaurants downtown. That notwithstanding, he insists his current life is precisely what he desires.
As for his inaugural journey to the metropolis? He vividly recalls the details—it was 1989, and The Sunday Independent had assigned him to chronicle the transformation of the St Patrick’s Day celebrations. “Appropriately an Aengus special,” he joyfully refers to the assignment, as a memorial tribute to late editor Aengus Fanning.
In the Irish-American landscape, particularly in New York, a palpable change was unfolding. A fresh cohort had emerged, not interested in old conventions – it wasn’t Noraid they were dismissing, rather the dated traditions propagated by the Friendly Sons of St Patrick and the establishment’s Saint Patrick’s Day commemoration, seen as excessively traditionalist and alienating, such as the male-only supper. Consequently, a divide formed. The contemporary Irish posted themselves in a prominent Soho building, Puck. The scene was au courant, featured a jazz band, and was devoid of any hint of green or the usual shamrock symbolism. It was distinctly modern. In an anomaly, I found myself that day marching alongside Donie Cassidy and Albert Reynolds, as part of my professional requirements. It was my inaugural trip to New York.
In his recollections elsewhere, he pens his delight upon securing a $5 standing-only ticket to a Wagner opera at the Met, subsequently locating an unoccupied seat, and proceeding to contact his friend. He had organised for his friend to leave a message on his answering machine indicating the bar he could be located in, Tóibín discovered. He took a midnight taxi to McManus’s on 7th Avenue and they revelled until dawn, concluding the night with the waste collectors who had polished off their night’s work.
The world inhabited, replete with phone booths, second-hand information and organised rendezvous timings and locales, are the fabric of the complex dynamics of Long Island. Whilst Eilis is the heroine and ethical compass of the narrative, Jim Farrell peculiarly surfaces as a protagonist as the plot develops. In Farrell, there’s an eerie undertone of life on hiatus spanning the two decades Eilis was away, and an intriguing aspect of the tale revolves around their endeavour to challenge destiny and the likelihood that their shared moment has elapsed.
“Yes, I greatly admired Domhnall Gleeson’s portrayal [in Brooklyn], which led me to write to him. Portraying a reserved Irish individual is quite challenging. Contrarily, depicting someone comical, risk-taking, brooding, or angry is far simpler. The character Jim simply gets on with life in a forthcoming manner. Despite his functioning life, he lacks companionship and experiences a sense of lacking. I was able to empathise with much of this through Domhnall’s performance.”
Tóibín, subsequent to our meeting, flies off to Los Angeles, a city where he partially resides throughout the year. His glamourous lifestyle conceals a dedicated commitment to his vocation. One would garner from Tóibín’s demeanor that a substantial part of his time is spent in tranquillity and quietude when he’s not engaging with his playful energy. His natural knack for storytelling, and his ability to evoke past memories readily, enable him to draw listeners into tales of his turbulent past as the chief editor of Magill, his childhood reminiscences, or his wanderings along the Irish Border for the esteemed Bad Blood. Tóibín still avidly reads newspapers, and notes an earlier headline that day about the impending sale of the Slieve Russell, once a pride of the Seán Quinn empire, whom Tóibín visited uninvited at his office.
“Quinn was a humble, taciturn individual. His meeting had no ostentation except for the presence of the Financial Times on his table,” Tóibín recalls. The hotel, startlingly, was inaugurated in 1990.
“The Slieve Russell was a remarkable sight, awaiting you as you turned a corner”, Tóibín recalls. “Despite being in a place where one might expect to encounter British soldiers or desolation, this architectural marvel would silence even the loudest Dubliners. The venue hosted weddings and even boasted a golf course… many individuals were employed there. All of this clearly demonstrates that stability is a fickle trait.”
“The notion that I, Tóibín, might understand the actions of 10 or even 100,000 individuals in places like Arizona or Pennsylvania is entirely preposterous. It’s simply out of my depth. Comparably, this concept could be extended to Long Island, where austere individuals wrestle with their inner emotional pendulums. My novel will keep me engaged, with book readings lined up throughout the United States and back home in Ireland. In addition, its selection for the Oprah book club ensures it will garner significant attention.
On the day of our meeting, a surprising visitation occurs in Columbia. Mike Johnson, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, appears unexpectedly, delivering a scolding discourse urging the pro-Palestinian demonstrators to disperse. His visit hints at the impending harsh nationwide crackdown and forced dispersal of student demonstrators across the U.S.
Tóibín shared on that day his perception of Columbia. “There’s more than meets the eye here,” he noted. “The commotion has been stirred up by the university administration. Although riot police were present, there was no actual riot. The student demonstration was, in essence, peaceful and contained to a relatively small area. Amid grading final term papers, I’m also receiving emails from students distressed by the university’s handling of the situation.”
He admits that the U.S. is experiencing a moment of discord. Looking back at the 2008 Obama election, he remembers fondly the wave of joy that he experienced and compared to “a city on a hill”. But times have changed. After mistakenly presuming that Donald Trump wouldn’t be elected in 2016, he’s realized that despite his travels across America for readings and academic events, comprehending the mindset of Americans – including those descending from Eilish Lacey’s generation of emigrants – is beyond his grasp.
Tóibín further stated, “Indeed, the thought of me, or anyone like me, understanding what large numbers of people in places like Arizona or Pennsylvania might be thinking or doing is beyond ridiculous. I’m simply out of my depth. I believe individuals in my position need to exhibit mindful silence following the 2016 blunder, perhaps even a sense of shame. It’s time for silence.”
Picador Books is set to release ‘Long Island’ in the UK and Ireland on the 23rd of May. Colm Tóibín has scheduled readings at various festivals across Dublin, Galway, Belfast, Borris in County Carlow, Dalkey, Bantry, and Dingle. More details can be found on colmtoibin.com.