March 1 to March 31
A Question and Answer Session with
Ethel Rohan
Dublin
I am very happy and honored to be able to share with readers of my a blog a Q & A session with Ethel Rohan, a writer I first read last year during Irish Short Story Week Year Two last year. I have been following her work ever since then and will continue to do so permanently. She is an immensely talented writer.
Last year I read a story, "Beast and the Bear" by Ethel Rohan, a totally new to me at the time writer. I read it during Emerging Irish Women Writers Week. I never expected to read a story during this week that I would end up regarding as belonging with the greatest short stories of all time. I read it four times in a row I was so amazed. Since I read that story for the first time, I have read, I estimate, at least 1000 other short stories including most of the consensus best short stories in the world. After reading "Beast and the Bear" again yesterday and this morning I am completely convinced it should already be counted among the world's greatest short stories. I was in fact so shocked by the power of this story that I wanted to be sure I was not overreacting. I sent a fellow book blogger whose taste I know to be exquisite and educated through decades of reading short stories and she said only the very best short stories she had ever read, she is an authority on Virginia Woolf, could compare to it. I know this sounds hyperbolic but it is how I feel. I do not lightly say a short story written by an author I had never heard of the day before I read it belongs with the work of the greatest of short story writers but that is my opinion. In a way I felt a sense of satisfaction in that I am open enough in my perceptions and judgments to be able to make such an assertion.
Since then I have followed the work of Rohan. I have posted on a few of her short stories and on her very haunting collection Hard to Say and on her Cut Through the Bone was the first work I posted on for ISSM3 She also wrote a guest post on my blog last year about an emerging Irish writer she, and now I admire, Danielle McLaughlin
1. Who are some of the
contemporary short story writers you admire? If you had to say, who do you
regard as the three best ever short story writers?
How
to even qualify the three best ever short story writers? It’s impossible. As
for contemporary writers, I’m besotted with Karen Russell’s stellar writing
skills and stunning imagination, in particular her new story collection, Vampires in the Lemon Grove. Bonnie Jo Campbell’s story
collection American Salvage lives on in my head and heart,
as has Mary Costello’s The China Factory.
2.
I have read lots of Indian and American short stories in addition to
Irish, and alcohol plays a much bigger part in the Irish stories. How
should an outsider take this and what does it say about Irish culture?
There’s truth to
every stereotype. Stories are mirrors to ourselves, our society, and our
relationships and that’s why alcohol plays such a large part in Irish lore. As
writers we put down what we know and Irish writers know alcohol. The best
stories contain characters not stereotypes, of course, and search beyond the
surface and the obvious.
3.
Declan Kilberd has said the dominant theme of modern Irish literature is that
of the weak or missing father? Do you think he is right and how does
this, if it does, reveal itself in your work? It seems present in several of your stories,
especially those in Hard to Say.
The
weak or missing father is one
of the dominant themes in modern Irish literature. Perhaps it’s more
encompassing to say abandonment is the dominant theme of modern Irish
literature and harkens back to our psychic scars from colonization and the
Great Famine—that sense of the world spinning out of control and ourselves as
endangered, victimized, and helpless—and is further exacerbated by the current
economic and social chaos in Ireland.
It’s
true, the weak or missing father appears in many of my stories, and so does the
absent mother. This isn’t intentional, but what writes its way out of me. Again
we write what we know and as a child I didn’t feel safe or protected and had to
rescue myself. I suppose, in the end, we all have to become our own father and
mother.
4.
When did you start writing?
I
remember writing poetry and songs from about age seven onwards and subjecting
my best friend and her brother to my endless, no doubt painful, performances in
the hall in my house while they sat on the bottom steps of our stairs. The
first story I remember writing, I was fourteen. It was about an old man and the
migration of swallows. I can remember nothing more about the story. I love
writing about elderly characters, and male characters too. I also love
swallows. Myriad the reasons why.
5.
How do you view Aosdána? Is it a great aid to the arts in Ireland
or does it perpetuate closed elitism?
Aosdána recognizes “artists whose
work has made an outstanding contribution to the arts in Ireland, and to
encourage and assist members in devoting their energies fully to their art.”
What’s not to love? Sign me up.
6.
I sometimes wonder why such a disproportionate amount of literature of
the world, that is regarded as great, is written in the colder temperate zones
rather than in the tropics. How big a factor do you think the Irish weather is
in shaping the literary output of its writers? I cannot imagine The Brothers Karamazov being
written on a tropical island, for example.
Well
there’s the problem of the lack of recognition and accessibility to literature
of “the tropics.” So much writing and books remain US-and-Euro-centric. But
you’re right, place and climate deeply affect and shape us and thus deeply
affect and shape our writing and art. Suffering a cold, wet, and relentless
climate is its own special kind of misery and cultivates a malaise and
desperation for all things beyond that experience. You’re going to get great
stories out of people suffering a gnawing yearning for all things beyond.
7. A
character in an Ali Smith short story asks in a conversation on the merits of
short stories versus novels "‘Is
the short story a goddess and nymph and is the novel an old whore?’" Does
this make a bit of sense to you?
I’m
all for championing the short story, but not to the detriment of the novel. The
idea that there’s any hierarchy—poetry, “flash” fiction, short story, nouvella,
novel—irks. Good writing is good writing—it doesn’t matter the genre. Of course
the opposite is also true.
8.
Who do you regard as the first modern Irish short story writer?
Honestly, this
question makes less sense to me than the previous. How to define “first” or
“modern”? I googled “Modern Ireland” and found this Irish Times article: http://www.irishtimes.com/culture/media/ten-objects-that-define-modern-ireland-1.535179?page=2.
It defines “Modern Ireland” as dating from 2000. I’ve a feeling you intended
earlier, Mel? I’m going to say Edna O’Brien, she’s been writing for a long time
but her work is always ahead of the curve and her stories remain current. Her
impressive body of work will rightly be included in the Irish literary canon.
9.
Why have the Irish produced such a disproportionate to their
population number of great writers?
For
all its wants and lacks, Ireland does a great job of promoting its writers and
literature—in the past Ireland has likely made more of its writers famous by
condemning rather than championing them, but contemporary Ireland seems to have
fastened onto its writers and artists, recognizing the gifts they possess,
legacy they continue, and the mystery and hope they represent.
10. (Ok
this may seem like a silly question but I pose it anyway-do you believe in Fairies?-this
quote from Declan Kilberd sort of explains why I am asking this:
"One
1916 veteran recalled, in old age, his youthful conviction that the rebellion
would “put an end to the rule of the fairies in Ireland”. In this it was
notably unsuccessful: during the 1920s, a young student named Samuel Beckett
reported seeing a fairy-man in the New Square of Trinity College Dublin; and
two decades later a Galway woman, when asked by an American anthropologist
whether she really believed in the “little people”, replied with terse
sophistication: “I do not, sir – but they’re there."
I
believe in higher powers, yes, and in the magic each of us can make every day
in our lives.
11.
Do you think the very large amount of remains from neolithic periods (the
highest in the world) in Ireland has shaped in the literature and psyche of the
country?
We
channel our ancient history and our ghosts.
12.
How important are the famines to the modern Irish psyche?
The
memories and the scars remain in the collective psyche, as does in many ways
the hunger. A fierce pride and spirit also remains. We were not destroyed, not
crushed, not erased. We survived.
13.
Does the character of the "stage Irishman" live on still in the
heavy drinking, violent, on the dole characters one finds in many contemporary
Irish novels?: Again from Declan Kilbred: "The Irish writer has always
been confronted with a choice. This is the dilemma of whether to write for the
native audience–a risky, often thankless task–or to produce texts for consumption
in Britain and North America. Through most of the nineteenth century, artists
tended to exploit far more of Ireland than they expressed. Cruder performers
resorted to stage-Irish effects, to the rollicking note and to
“paddy-whackery”, but even those who sought a subtler portraiture often failed,
not so much through want of talent as through lack of a native audience. Most
of these writers came, inevitably, from the upper classes and their commerce
with the full range of Irish society was very limited.”
This is really interesting: “Through most of the
nineteenth century, artists tended to exploit far more of Ireland than they
expressed … Most of these writers came, inevitably, from the upper classes and
their commerce with the full range of Irish society was very limited.”
Again, I think this gets back to my earlier response and
speaks to the truth in every stereotype. The onus on the writer, on all of us,
is to see the humanity beyond the stereotype and shine a light on why the
“stage Irishman” persists and what continues to keep him down and all afog.
14.
William Butler Yeats said in "The Literary Movement"-- "‘The
popular poetry of England celebrates her victories, but the popular poetry of
Ireland remembers only defeats and defeated persons.’” I see a similarity to
this in the heroes of the Philippines. American heroes were all victors, they
won wars and achieved independence. The national heroes of the Philippines were
almost all ultimately failures, most executed by the Spanish or American rulers.
How do you think the fact Yeats is alluding too, assuming you agree, has
shaped Irish literature?
Again,
I find this fascinating, thank you. As a colonized people, stripped of land,
culture, language, and more, it’s arguable the Irish are encoded with defeatism
and brokenness—there’s the sense that we haven’t won, yet, that we’re
ultimately losers because we did not achieve full independence and hence we can
only celebrate in our arts and culture the heroes of the fight and the effort,
but ultimately not the victory. That’s heartbreaking and perhaps can only be
healed by an evolution of the Irish and the collective consciousness where we
recognize that the stuff most of us fight and die for doesn’t matter. It’s
stuff.
15.
Do you think poets have a social role to play in contemporary Ireland or
are they pure artists writing for themselves and a few peers?
This
touches on the hierarchy bias I mentioned earlier. Poets have as much or as
little social responsibility as any other writer or artist. Ultimately, we have
to do our best. That’s our collective responsibility.
16.
Do you think Irish Travelers should be granted the status of a distinct
ethnic group and be given special rights to make up for past mistreatment?
Are the Travelers to the Irish what the Irish were once to the English? I
became interested in this question partially through reading the short stories
of Desmond Hogan.
I
doubt restitution would accomplish much. Travelers need to be humanized and
accepted, and unbiased portraits in Irish media, journalism, stories, and art
could go a long way toward that. I support equality and human rights and lament
the terrible bigotry of so many Irish toward Travelers and foreign nationals.
The best of Travelers’ culture should be honored and preserved, but that will
necessitate extensive dialogue and understanding and the end of Travelers’
internalized bigotry.
17.
Do you prefer e-reading or traditional books?
I
swing both ways, but at heart I’m a trad girl.
18.
What do you miss most about Ireland since you moved to California?
What are you glad to be away from?
I
miss family and friends; the unique sense of humor; the slower pace of life;
the terrible delicious food; the clothes shopping; the English-Irish chocolate;
and warming by an open fire when outside is astir and miserable.
I’m
glad to be away from the personal sadness, bad memories, and people’s often
small-mindedness and begrudgery (which again I think stems from a consciousness
that’s terrified there isn’t enough for everyone and which also, out of a sense
of abandonment, feels frantic about having to look out for oneself).
19.
If you could time travel for 30 days (and be rich and safe) where would
you go and why?
Nottingham,
Maid Marion, double-life, wearing big dresses and boys clothes, riding horses
and shooting arrows, sleeping in a castle and Sherwood Forest, escaping and
winning, helping the poor, and doing Robin Hood.
20.
Best Literary Festival you have so far attended?
The
Cork International Short Story Festival. Amen.
21.
Flash Fiction - how driven is the popularity of this form by social
media like Twitter and its word limits?
Again,
I see no distinction in story length or value. Social media does a hell of a
job driving the popularity of great writers and stories, of all lengths, and
largely ignores bad writing.
22.
How important in shaping the literature of Ireland is its proximity to
the sea?
Again
this gets back to the importance of place and how its mood, geography, and
culture is ingrained in the writer and hence the writing. I love the sea and to
walk the beach. Ireland is an island, cut off from everything and surrounded by
a salty force that’s both glorious and consuming—more, ever-present elements to
fuel wild imaginations, maddening wants, and soulful spirits.
End of Q & A Session
I give my great thanks to Ethel Rohan for taking the time from her very busy schedule to respond to my questions in such an interesting and entirely illuminating fashion.
I look forward to reading her forthcoming collection of short stories, Goodnight Nobody.
You can learn more about her work at her very well done blog.
She recently published a very good article in The New York Times on the need to change the abortion laws of Ireland.
I sometimes imagine twenty five or fifty years from now someone will do a Google search on Ethel Rohan and find my first posts on her and wonder "who was this Mel u who saw so long ago the immense talent of Ethel Rohan?"
