In her head, Majella makes lists: one for things she doesn’t like, such as chatter, physical contact or noise; a shorter one for what she likes which includes “eating”, Dallas (except the 1985-1986 season) or “the Gold pay channel”. What Majella didn’t like begins on a Monday in the small town of Aghybogey, on the Northern Irish border; the 27-year-old girl will “work”, like six evenings a week in the fish and chips by Madame Conasse. She likes to polish the shop and knows the clientele by heart, like Jimmy Neuf-Pintes who asks for his sausage menu every evening when he leaves the Strabane poultry factory. Her mother is an alcoholic, her father has disappeared and she has just buried her murdered grandmother. The picture does not seem very engaging, but the strength of this first novel is due to the emotional intensity of this funny girl, complexed and assumed. Interview with Michelle Gallen.
Why a novel that takes place over a week?
I am obsessed with time. I am very aware of the flow of hours and days. I like to be on time. When I was little, my father loved spending time outside and coming home early, my mother was always late. So I became acutely aware of time. It’s also because when I was 23, I suffered a head trauma from autoimmune encephalitis, and my memory and perception of time were affected. I had to relearn how to read and feed myself as a child. Writing a book structured around a week helped me to have the necessary confidence.
Did you write it like a diary, day after day?
I had written 14 short stories, almost a collection. Some have been published in The Stinging Fly, an Irish newspaper known for discovering young authors. The latest short story, titled “Double Trouble,” was set in a chip shop. There was Marty, an alcoholic woman, a missing father, and a male character called Connor, who was unhappy in his job. When I finished this text, I was on fire. I took a whole month of vacation, alone, and this novel came out like a geyser.
Why is Majella obsessive and very anxious?
Majella arrived as a whole person. When I first tried to get the novel published, the publishers told me: “We love the story, the characters, the writing… But what’s wrong with Majella?” They had a hard time understanding that a woman could be like this. A relative of mine had a late diagnosis of autism, and I thought Majella had autism. And me too. I am very sensitive to light and noise. I find social relations complicated. I have to strive to think clearly like Majella, who follows a routine to feel safe. Majella has to decode the world all the time, what people are saying, or want to say. His co-worker Marty, who is very joking and sociable, helps him to appear more normal. Majella appears very feminist, but she doesn’t think she is. She only affirms what she wants or does not want. She rejects fashion, makeup, traditional relationships.
The novel is set in a city that does not exist, Aghybogey, why?
‘Aghy’ is the Irish word for field. And “bogey” means the swamp. In other words, it is a marshy place, a place from which it is difficult to escape.
Does it resemble the city where you grew up?
A little, but through Majella’s eyes. I grew up during ‘The Troubles’ in a very poor town on the border in Northern Ireland, where there was one of the highest unemployment rates in the industrialized world. But I have happy memories, populated by interesting people, others angry, sad, or else full of humor and joy. Before the Troubles, there were nineteen roads that crossed the border. The British army left only one road to enter, another to leave, and destroyed the others. I lived in a catholic and nationalist community that did not trust the police and the army. When I was 18, I left to study at Trinity College in Dublin. Then I lived in Scotland, in London. I had grown up in Northern Ireland, but I had left… I decided to come back and work in Belfast, at the BBC. But it’s very difficult, life in a society emerging from conflict. During conflict, people stick together, and you have a sense of community. In Northern Ireland, there are today more suicides, autism, cancers, depressions; all indicators of happiness, health and well-being, are significantly better in the Republic of Ireland. The population remains psychologically damaged.
Is Majella a metaphor for this traumatic past?
Somehow. In the book, we experience a moment in history where the boundaries start to open up, but the psychology doesn’t change that simply. People have been used for decades to living in conflict, to being on the defensive, not to trust. One cannot build a bridge in the mind so simply.
It is the women who survived, the men died or disappeared.
Dead, missing or dangerous. You have the Daly brothers who are supposedly the protectors of the community, but rather of their interests. Majella’s uncle died while planting a bomb that exploded too soon. Is Majella’s father involved? It is not said. He disappeared. It’s like a puzzle. Before going to university, I went to a school in Strabane. It emerged that a known member of the IRA was ultimately a mole and was informing the police. If it inspired me, giving details did not interest me. I wanted to give people the feeling that where I grew up, you couldn’t ask questions. And you could hear five different versions of the same story. In a good novel, as in life, it’s okay if you don’t get all the answers. Just feel that the time and energy are worth it. If Majella started asking questions, she might become a target. I had a friend in Northern Ireland called Lyra McKee. She was a young journalist, full of life and light. She was shot in a riot in April 2019. The epigraph phrase taken from Milkman by Anna Burns is addressed to him. “And if we accept these luminous points, their translucency, their brilliance; and if we allow ourselves to enjoy it, to no longer fear it, and if we get used to it; […] if we educate ourselves to do it, and all of a sudden, all of a sudden, the light goes out or is stolen from us.” If you’re a woman, it’s up to you how bright you can shine without getting burned. This question fascinates me: who would you be if you could simply let yourself be carried away by the fire?