Tell us about your new novel, Love Forms
It’s about a mother searching for a daughter she gave up for adoption 40 years ago. The mother, Dawn, is from a middle-class respectable family in Trinidad: she gets pregnant by a tourist at Carnival at the age of 16, and she’s shipped off to neighbouring Venezuela to have the baby in secret. It’s similar to what must have happened a lot between Ireland and England, actually. And my main character, Dawn, she stays with Catholic nuns in Venezuela – but they’re nice nuns! In the Caribbean, religious groups function as unofficial social support networks, since governmental services tend to be pretty thin.
You were born in Trinidad to a father from Port of Spain and a mother from Cork, both doctors. Did you grow up with a sense of a dual identity?
In Trinidad, we used to see my dad’s family every Sunday, and we took turns to host. One week, they’d come to us in the capital city of Port of Spain, and my mother would cook a roast lunch with Yorkshire puddings. The next week, we’d drive to my uncle’s house in the hills, where we’d eat ordinary Trinidadian food – roti, curry, macaroni pie, stew chicken. I liked both equally!
There’s a bit of an Irish presence in Trinidad. My mum had special green napkins which came out every year for her St Patrick’s Day lunch. And she made a stack of profiteroles, which had to stay in the freezer until the last minute so that the cream and chocolate wouldn’t melt in the heat. We’d come back from school to find all the Irish ladies slightly boozed up and laughing their heads off. My mother would want me to reiterate that this only happened once a year.
I feel really at home in both Ireland and Trinidad, and my accent changes to fit as soon as my feet touch the ground!
What or who made you want to be a writer? Your mother was a bit of a natural scientist who taught you to observe things closely?
In Trinidad, we were a bit of a Durrell-type family, with caterpillars and beetles in jars, all around the house. She did loads of really precise botanical drawings of plants, really close, careful study. She’s still a working artist – check her out on Instagram.
For me the part that stuck was that I know what everything is called in Trinidad! I would be a good nature tour guide. In contrast, I don’t know what anything is called in England. I can pick out a few species of tree, but everything else is a mystery. I can’t figure out how to grow anything in pots at all – I still can’t get used to the temperate climate, with four seasons.
I think I always had an idea that I would write one day. It was like a seed I’d tucked away that waited for many years until the conditions were right for it to grow. I had my first child (in my early 30s) and it was like the sudden awareness of my own mortality took hold of me, and I started working like a woman possessed!
It’s something to do with a fascination with the nature of language. Language as this inexhaustible material, free to use by all, no matter how rich or poor, or where in the world we start from. “To do all that, and with just words!” Arthur Miller’s son said that to him, after seeing or reading one of the plays. Those words pretty much sum it up for me too.
You did an MA in creative and life writing at Goldsmiths, London, where you now live. What was the key lesson?
Exchanging work with peers and hearing their feedback is really valuable. You learn to see your work more objectively.
What are your memories of summers in Ireland and the year you spent here as a teenager?
Those summers in Ireland were a highlight of our childhoods. We flew over from Trinidad every three years, like migrating birds, and spent the summer at my grandmother’s house near Skibbereen. It was all so exciting. We required thick woollen sweaters – even in July and August, Ireland seemed cold to us, coming from the tropics. We were very taken with strawberries and raspberries, blackberries, even apples – we thought they only existed in books! I remember helping build a big haystack, someone making jam, my sister and I trying to muster the courage to get into the freezing cold lake. Great times.
That grandmother lived to 108. We’re lucky that her house is still in the family – we all love visiting when we can. My daughter will be over this summer with her friends.
And then I came back to live in Cork for a year when I was in my 20s. I worked for a company owned by my uncle and aunts at the time. I loved Cork, and I had a good wander around Ireland during that year, and during the many other summers I’ve been back.
Describe your debut, Golden Child, which won the Desmond Elliott and McKitterick Prizes
It’s about a family with twin sons in rural Trinidad. The father’s trying to do his best for his family but he’s an uneducated man of very humble means, in an effectively lawless society. When one of his sons goes missing, he finds himself totally out of his depth and he’s faced with a terrible dilemma.
It is said to capture Trinidad perfectly. Could you give a sense of the island in a few words?
In rainy season, it’s very lush and green – a different green than in Ireland. There’s a different quality of sunlight in the tropics, blinding at midday. Any unkept land (what we call “bush”) grows fast and uncontrollably. The crazy mix of religions and ethnicities get along together much better than you might expect. Law enforcement doesn’t appear to be a priority, and the fact that the society functions as well as it does, is because the vast majority of citizens are really decent people.
Both novels, although very different, involve a parent searching for a lost child
By strange coincidence, yes! I have no explanation for this. Someone I know commented that while Golden Child is about fathers and sons, Love Forms is about mothers and daughters.
It’s being developed for film by Sarah Jessica Parker’s company?
The option was bought by a small production company in LA (MA Productions), and we’re all so thrilled that SJP’s Pretty Matches Productions is on board as well. Film stuff moves slowly, there are a zillion obstacles, and her supporting the project is fantastic.
You’re a fan of William Trevor and Claire Keegan?
Well, years ago now, after I read Foster, I immediately googled Claire Keegan, and I could hardly believe my luck when I saw that she runs writing workshops. I’ve been to two now, and I’ve been evangelical ever since. She’s a fabulous and generous teacher, as so many of her other students will eagerly attest.
I adore William Trevor’s stories, too. Back in the good old days I spent a summer hitchhiking around Ireland and I’m almost sure he gave me a lift one time in west Cork. He had a quiet manner, was very reserved about himself, but he listened to me very intently as I blabbered on. I said I wanted to be a writer and he smiled a kind of regretful, knowing smile, and told me the important thing was to just keep at it.
Which projects are you working on?
I’m messing around with a few ideas. And working on a screenplay set in Trinidad with a couple of friends – it’s nice to do something sociable for a change!
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
Maybe I’ll try to visit Tolstoy’s house one day.
What is the best writing advice you have heard?
From Flannery O’Connor: that the meaning of fiction is not abstract meaning but experienced meaning.
Who do you admire the most?
My endlessly patient husband is a pretty good guy!
You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish?
I will abolish fines for accidentally stopping in the yellow cross-hatched area at intersections. All parking throughout London will be free forevermore!
Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend?
I’ve watched all four seasons of Succession multiple times and I am not ashamed. It’s that good. #TeamKendall. I hope people are reading Sakina’s Kiss by Vivek Shanbhag. He’s an outstanding writer and deserves many readers. I’m looking forward to watching Mountainhead, Jesse Armstrong’s new film.
Which public event affected you most?
Well, I was living in Cork when Diana died. I was in a flat-share near French’s Quay and I remember the three of us in the flat were speechless all morning, watching the news loop through the same coverage for hours.
The most remarkable place you have visited?
I visited my sister in Montreal in the winter once, 30 years ago, and I still haven’t got over how cold it was there. I felt like my eyeballs froze!
Your most treasured possession?
Wherever I go, I travel with our coffee pot. It’s a basic Italian moka, the one that goes on the stove top. The handle has fallen off and we’ve replaced the inside bits dozens of times, but as it’s been used numerous times a day for maybe a decade, the coffee tastes really good. I can’t do without it.
What is the most beautiful book that you own?
Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson.
Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party?
I’m probably going off on a tangent, but I’d worry about how all the egos in one room would make it hard work! For a (hopefully) pleasant dinner party where I could just listen and absorb, I’d invite Abdulrazak Gurnah, JM Coetzee and Rohinton Mistry. (By the way, if they see this and do actually fancy dinner, email me!)
The best and worst things about where you live?
There are great green spaces all around London – nice big parks. The never-ending roadworks are the worst thing – unfortunately I drive quite a lot and they’re truly the bane of my existence.
What is your favourite quotation?
“Nothing is far, and nothing is near, if one desires. It brought Columbus across the sea in a little boat.” That’s Willa Cather, The Song of the Lark.
A book to make me laugh?
My Favourite Mistake by Marian Keyes – my mother just lent it to me.
A book that might move me to tears?
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro.
Love Forms is published by Faber & Faber
