Irish Times article: Book Prizes are a fishy business
Here’s a short piece I wrote for Saturday’s Irish Times on the matter of trying to stuff my dinner under a chair at the First Novel Prize event at the Four Seasons in TO.
Irish Times Malarky review
Firstly, thank you to the Irish Times for reviewing Malarky. Secondly, thank you to the Irish Times for handing it to the mighty Éilís Ní Dhuibhne for review. Thirdly, thank you to Éilís for her labour on such a thoughtful, warm, hopeful review. I’ve long admired Éilís Ní Dhuibhne’s work and would encourage all readers to engage with her body of short stories, novels, non-fiction and Irish language works. Her contribution to Irish literature is an important one.
Here’s the last paragraph of the review (click to read): “..Anakana Schofield is in the ranks of the best. She weaves her words well and demonstrates many of the gifts that the novelist has to own. This novel is deeper and more thoughtful than it seems. Clever, witty, imaginative and intriguing, Malarky is a stunning debut from an exceptionally good writer.”
I’ll add my comments on some of the points raised forthwith, especially that of place.
From the review..
“The elimination of physical setting is a feature of much of this voice-based writing: characters interact in places that could be almost anywhere, were it not for the funny way they talk. They operate on an empty stage, without the sky or the fields, or any of that rich backdrop so intrinsic to the texture of 20th-century Irish novels.”
I think new forms and prodding form are essential and we need to move away from the over-dependence on place and poesy on trees, landscape and what have you with which Irish fiction is sometimes lazily besotted. Rather than a rich texture or backdrop I find it increasingly limits what the novel can become because it’s sowed or pre-soaked instead with what we expect it or already know it to be. It can give rise to a stifling linear that I find at odds with the lives that intrigue me and it does nothing to speak to memory, which is rarely chronological. I have found in my readings of some of this work latterly that I hear notes or tone I’ve heard too often and I like to hear unexpected notes. I, personally, am more interested in the depiction of place through the sounds or behaviours of people in them and/or imaginings therein. I’d cite DM Fraser in this regard. His influence or his tipping me towards this. Fiction is a space for language, form and imagination and to some extent Irish fiction remains a little over fixated on authenticity and some kind of ache for its own social anthropology. Beckett, however, dispensed with such 80 years ago. (I am surprisingly and ashamedly poorly read on him, but have ingested enough to see this)
Curiously I am a complete contradiction in terms of my interest in the local of where I now live Vancouver. (I have lived in Ireland and had a relationship to/with Mayo since I was born) Thus we could probably throw both schools of thought into the blender and mix. I am fascinated by the psycho geography of place and read endlessly the likes of Ian Sinclair. I have old books here like the Diary of a London Explorer and clearly my interest in Vancouver labour history is steeped in place. But all of this interest tends to occupy a non-fiction space. If anything I’d want to subvert this in fiction. You only have your own instinct as a writer, you must follow that instinct and see where it takes you and which excavations it insists upon.
However, in regard to fiction and the novel I recall the writer Jenny Diski saying something along the lines of why would you expect to believe what you read in fiction? (This is not a precise quote, I must source precisely what she wrote) and I would add to it that fiction is a place or the place where we make stuff up. We should expect that invention to extend to language and form. For some reason I often felt compelled to create buildings in Malarky because as I discussed on the Urban Underbelly panel at Indian Summer Festival I was more curious about Our Woman’s emotional underbelly, her emotional relationship with the city when she visits it and how she nearly confides in certain physical buildings. (shops, art installations, bus stops etc). I also like remix as an approach. It’s a nod to the fact as readers we are occupying virtual spaces collectively, we are moving through reviewed space every day of the week. (But that’s a whole ‘nother strand worthy of a long form essay). This brings me back to the point of dispensing with place .. I would contend that as a writer I am more curious about fluid interpretations of place rather than predictable denotations that demonstrate a Jimi Hendrix ability with description and also that, the different social classes inhabit place differently and that fictional depictions to date often pay no regard to this and pander to novelistic expectations set down by whom? The predominant social class who have written fiction! Hence it’s more vital to create cartography around where this woman was consumed emotionally (kitchen table, Penneys, Farmer’s Co-op, bus) than where she was physically anchored on any map. Not least because the pov in the novel is utterly 360 degrees hers. She doesn’t sit about contemplating which parish she lives in and how it might physically present itself to her each day. She lives in that parish. She goes about her working day. She contemplates instead, for example, the woman who might be staring at her in the shop when she’s breaking down, interpreting the action of her husband’s fingers on the jars and bottles on her table. From those motions/responses she detects the indicators of her life.
OK I seemed to have added my point on place, despite insisting it would be made forthwith. I also seem to have ventured into multiple departures within it. As it says somewhere in Malarky, I can feel fingertips separating out my brain and must take my jet- lagged mental string of sausages out to fresh air and the pavement.
Thunder clatter
There are vital things to tell you about Malarky reviews and what have you, but much more vitally at this late weathering hour I heard two reports today from Vancouver that I had missed a clap of thunder.
I consider it class that both parties who let me know were aware that I was not bearing witness to it and bore witness in my absence. In another coincidence both their names begin with the letter J.
At the time I was missing the clap of West coast YVR thunder, I was in the West here and amid the patchy Mayo weather perks. The breeze and those 5 raindrops on my reading glasses which I forgot to remove when I went for a short run. See how the weather provides. Three drops and I realized I still have my reading glasses on.
We worked in the bog on Saturday and there was a bit of patchy drizzle, but mostly a lifting wind gave towards the end of the day. Your hair is always blown forwards. Always lovely to be out there amidst the sods and reckles.
RTE Radio 1: Arena
The Mail on Sunday selected Malarky as their Novel of The Week and published a great review of the book, which I shall add to the reviews section of the website.
Today I visited an old favourite bookshop of mine, an independent bookshop Dubray Books on Grafton Street — they had a stack of Malarky by the till and were lovely warm people. Thanks for your warmth.
Thursday evening I will be on RTE Radio 1 Arena show live at 7pm talking about Malarky with Sean Rocks.
Thank you so much to Arena and RTE Radio for having me on.
Today I did an interview with Hot Press magazine. Hot Press is a leading music and arts paper in Ireland, which I read for years and years when I lived in Dublin. I was very fortunate to be interviewed by Anne Sexton today. Anne writes a sex column in Hot Press and she writes about books.
More to come!
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I’m in London next Weds & Thursday doing publicity, if anyone else wishes to interview me or chat about vacuum cleaners or weather calamities in the national press. (Hello BBC Radio 4)
Welcome Irish & British readers
A big hearty welcome to British and Irish readers. I am delighted Malarky is now published in the UK and Ireland. (and Aus, NZ, S Africa, India & all commonwealth countries). I very much hope you find my novel engaging and thank you most sincerely for reading it.
There was a lovely review in Saturday’s Irish Independent and a nice shout out from Colum McCann in today’s Sunday Independent, Colum chose Malarky as one of his summer recommendations. Thank you to Colum, a writer I have long admired and respected.
This week I am in Dublin doing interviews about Malarky. I’ll be on TV3 The Morning Show on Wednesday. I am enjoying being home. The big story is my sister’s greyhound Sally. I send special love out to greyhound owners, rescue services, since this dog is exceptional. Affectionate and both snoozy and sweet. (Not quite what I envisaged from a greyhound). Today we walked along the canal with her. I am not so much of a dog person, but Sally has converted me to these wonderful creatures. I may have to revise my ambition to be reincarnated as a penguin.
There was patchy drizzle this morning in Dublin, which by night gave way to a stronger downpour. Gardens are looking terrific from the recent hot spell. And it’s good to have access to Cadbury’s Turkish Delight and more importantly lively exchange and great friends.
Next week I will be in London talking to the media about Malarky. If you wish to interview me please do contact either me (mrsokana@gmail.com) or my publicist Henry Jeffreys at Oneworld in London. Or Cormac Kinsella my publicist in Dublin.
More weather reports to follow.
Best to all for now, AK.
Ongoing: Guardian article and spuds
Continued thanks to the many people who have sent me messages about my Guardian article on the shift from a reading culture to a writing culture, the diminishment of value placed on all labour and my perplexment therein. I am trying to respond to all the messages and tweets, but it may not be possible to thank all individually. If I miss you, I apologize.
There’s a number of responses to my article in blog form (I shall try to collate when I find time) and a critical response of it by a book publicist published on Bookbrunch and rewritten/edited and published on the Guardian Books Blog (likely unpaid, so I salute and thank the respondent Ruth for her labour writing it). It’s great to see debate. An important conversation about reading seems to have been prompted by my article, so I can now, if necessary, die happily obsolete, with un-pierced ears and an inability to bake.
As I reviewed books and wrote articles about literature in newspapers during the last 10 years I am all-too-painfully aware how space, word count and pay for literary criticism and journalism have been drastically reduced. However, this does not give us free reign to turn the entire process over to an unregistered charity status just because modes are changing. Yes we need to adapt to new media, new technology, but the principal of ethics and not even a fair wage, but some vague gesture of any compensation needs to be part of this adaption. It’s easy to be cavalier with other people’s labour. This applies to all sectors. This week there are reports of 11 month contracts, zero hour contracts and we find ourselves returned to the argument that Occupy raised about the 99%.
I am not anti-publicity, nor, as anyone who has seen me read will attest, am I remotely uncomfortable doing public events. I love to meet the public and do festivals and have been blessed by the warm embrace and invitations of many festival directors. (Thank you Hal Wake, Charlene Diehl, Wordstock, Jo Steffens, St Albert Literary Festival, Sara Cassidy, Brooklyn Book Fest, Dani Gill, Anne (Cork), Sirish Rao/ Laura/Indian Summer Festival, Words on the Water, Denman Island Readers & Writers Festival, Geoffrey Taylor, The Toronto Public Library, Trent University, SFU, UBC and more). I also share a warm working relationship with both my publicists the mighty Tara Murphy and patient, open-minded Henry in London. But this does not mean I should sit like a smug squirrel content, with her paws in the air, disconnect my critical faculty and not examine anything related to the aspects outlined in the essay that concern me. I have a responsibility as a writer to ask questions about reading and the place it occupies in our cultural life. As Sudeep Chakravarti said during our conversation at the Indian Summer launch when I discussed the dilemmas of raising critical questions/ engagement and the reverberations/consequences that can beset one it seems if you say anything contrary to the accepted prevailing view or status quo …. “That is the job of a writer, surely that is the life of a writer. That’s your job.“. I thank him for that wisdom because it certainly gave me courage. I will not shirk. Women writers need to take up space, including critical space and contribute. We have questions to ask and we will ask them. We have books to write and they will be written. Interrogation and critical thinking are included in the process. If I didn’t interrogate I never would have found the form of Malarky and these days I am very glad I did. (Through the long, lonely process it took to find it — I wrote three novels and regularly despaired, I often felt otherwise). How did I endure that despair ? It was certainly alleviated when I turned my attention to interrogating forgotten working class Vancouver novels and through the Rereading the Riot Act project I did with UNIT/PITT and working on Big Mamas Ridin High with Lori Weidenhammer and Leannej on our meta-piece Walkers. Generous, inspiring, wise collaborators. Together we interrogated and excavated.
This brings me back to the book I am currently reading by Thalia Field Bird lovers, Back Yard along with Mary Robison’s Why did I ever. Both works engage with the question as departure points and they are v appropriate to this particular time for me. Literature always provides.
New acquisitions to my library include:
Shake a paw by Gerry Gilbert (1996) A whole blog post will come eventually on this treasure.
Renata Adler
Walking with the Comrades by Arundhati Roy
The Bunney Fluffs’ Moving Day (Ladybird. Moment of deep nostalgia and international postal service)
Diamond Grill by Fred Wah (For my son & I)
Life After Life by Kate Atkinson (a gift for Grandma)
Des Kennedy’s memoir (another gift for Grandma)
Am I A Redundant Human Being? by Mela Hartwig
I confess all have been acquired in past two weeks. Book buying is my main contribution to the global economy.
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I found 5 spuds to harvest in my community garden plot, but am convinced there have to be more. I like the 5 that grew. There’s nothing quite like digging up your own spud, or cooking it, until you realize it’s not cooked properly. Then it’s a pretty down home gummy crunch of a question mark?