In her 2018 short story collection, Truth & Dare (Poolbeg), Martina Devlin reanimated the lives of historical women who had previously been overlooked. Among them was the writing duo Edith Somerville and Violet Martin, ie Somerville and Ross, members of the Protestant ascendancy, best known for their Irish RM series of stories.
In her latest novel, Edith, Devlin revisits Somerville after the death of Martin. It’s 1921 – “lawless times”, as the Irish Republican Army and the Black and Tans engage in guerrilla warfare. Edith’s family estate in Skibbereen, Drishane House, is under threat. In order to alleviate financial pressure, she decides to adapt the Irish RM stories for stage. Doubting her ability to do it alone, she communes with her former writing partner via seances and “automatic writing” sessions, in which she believes the ghost of Martin writes through her.
Edith’s story of doubt and enterprise – of paving a new path as the spectre of the past lingers – works well in tandem with the story of Ireland attempting to break free of British rule. In the background, Collins and Griffith attempt to thrash out a peace deal, while Volunteers “martyr” themselves for an Ireland that “gobbles up blood sacrifices”. Edith struggles with her identity as “hybrid” – she is constantly told she would have a better life in England, but Drishane is her home.
Historical fact
At times – and this is a hazard with all historical fiction – the book’s attempts to impart historical fact pull us out of the story. For example, the passages describing the house’s architecture and history feel a little textbook, and the GB Shaw character a little pat. But despite this, Edith is an entertaining and thought-provoking read. Edith’s exchanges with a young rebel form the book’s beating heart. “Are you on our side, ma’am?” he asks her, to which she replies: “I’ll tell you who’s side I’m on. Your mother’s. She didn’t go to the trouble of teaching you how to write letters to her, only to receive one telling her you’ve been hanged or shot.”
A level of distance between the consciousness of the author/reader and the consciousness of the character lends humour and lightness. Edith is fond of the “natives” yet blind to her own ignorance about class. She is determined in her work, but often deluded about her abilities. For the most part, readers will find it hard not to warm to this flawed but compelling woman and her story of self-reliance.
