Noel O’Regan’s debut novel is an exploration of place, people and unifying meaning

Tell me about your debut novel, Though the Bodies Fall. What was its genesis and how did it evolve?

It tells the story of Micheál Burns, who lives in his family’s bungalow at the end of a headland in Kerry. There are cliffs on their land that have been a hot spot for would-be jumpers for generations. Micheál tries to help these “visitors”, as the family calls them, even as his siblings look to sell the land.

Its genesis came from thinking about the ways in which we bestow meaning on certain spaces, how these can then become places of pilgrimage. Wondering what it’d be like to live in such an area, how you’d be shaped by it. And how, in turn, you’d shape those who arrived there, looking for help.

How would you describe your writing style?

Why ultra-processed foods need tobacco-style warnings

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Is it possible to spice up a sexless marriage?

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David McWilliams: Aer Lingus pilots are the Donnybrook Fair battalion of an Aldi revolution

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In pictures: Taylor Swift’s exhilarating Eras tour concert in Dublin

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Quietly lyrical. Atmospheric. Character-focused. (That’s the intention, anyway.)

How important is place, nature and in particular the sea in your writing?

I do think of myself as something of a landscape writer. A lot of my stories build out of an engagement with place.

Suicide is an extremely sensitive and formerly taboo subject. How did you approach it?

With the utmost care, restraint and empathy. It is a sensitive subject, as you say. At times, of course, it is the role of literature to step into fraught spaces and — again, as long as it’s done with the necessary care — cast a light on these subjects.

The novel’s epigraph is from Amongst Women. How big an influence is John McGahern? Were there others?

McGahern is a big influence. His quote, “All good writing is suggestion”, remains one of the central tenets of my style. Other influences include nature writers like Tim Robinson, as well as regionalists like Annie Proulx, Ron Rash and Alistair MacLeod.

There has been a huge generational shift in Irish attitudes to religion. Was this something you wanted to address?

It’s not so much that I set out to address it as it simply built out of the story I was telling, the span of it.

What for you are the key fault lines in Irish society?

The housing crisis. Ever-worsening inequality. Ryan Tubridy.

You worked as an editor for Mercier for several years. How influential was that on your writing?

You certainly do learn things, editing manuscripts for a living. You see the same mistakes repeat. And you see the ways to avoid those mistakes.

What projects are you working on?

I’ve been following Bolaño’s advice since I finished TTBF: “Never tackle stories one at a time.” So I’m jumping between projects. Time will tell if this is a wise move or not!

Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?

Douglas Adams’s grave. Such a small, unassuming headstone in Highgate Cemetery, not far from Karl Marx’s giant head. You’d easily walk past it. What draws your attention are the flowerpots in front of the grave. All of them in bloom with biros.

What is the best writing advice you have heard?

Perseverance is key.

Who do you admire the most?

Prepare yourself; this is a sentimental answer, but honestly, it’d be my parents. Two endlessly kind and supportive individuals who have shown me what it is to live a good and honest life. Hopefully saying this in the Paper of Record makes up for being a terrible son through most of my teens and 20s!

You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish?

Make everyone stay off social media. Just to give us all a breather.

Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend?

Falling Animals by Sheila Armstrong and The Grass Ceiling by Eimear Ryan. Film: Aftersun by Charlotte Wells. Podcast: Burning Books by Books Ireland/Ruth McKee.

Which public event affected you most?

Dublin winning the five (and then six) in a row. Sickener.

The most remarkable place you have visited?

This will come across as biased, but I think it’s Skellig Michael.

Your most treasured possession?

I don’t treasure any of my possessions …

What is the most beautiful book that you own?

I don’t own any rare editions or fancy hardbacks. I do have a copy of Alistair MacLeod’s collection, Island, signed by the author. Which makes it beautiful to me.

Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party?

Tim Robinson and John Moriarty. They were friends when alive and have both written beautifully about that friendship. I’d love to bring them back together for one night.

The best and worst things about where you live?

The new Tralee-to-Fenit greenway is my current favourite thing. The worst is a (possibly vampiric, certainly insomniac) dog belonging to a near-neighbour who shall remain nameless. This creature has taken to barking at all hours of the night. Every bloody night!

What is your favourite quotation?

Henry James: “A second chance — that’s the delusion. There never was to be but one. We work in the dark — we do what we can — we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.”

Who is your favourite fictional character?

Joe Rutledge (in That They May Face the Rising Sun by John McGahern).

A book to make me laugh?

Douglas Adams’s The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

A book that might move me to tears?

That ending to Claire Keegan’s Foster brings tears to my eyes every damn time.

• Though the Bodies Fall is published by Granta