Tell us about your debut novel, Exile
Exile, set in 2008, follows 18-year-old Fiadh as she moves to Liverpool for university and then back to her home city, Belfast. It’s a novel primarily about the diaspora experience of leaving and returning home, the aftermath of sexual violence and the shifting nature of friendships.
Exile is set in a pre-#MeToo Belfast, when women’s bodies and sexuality were always under surveillance. Being a young woman then was a minefield, you’ve said. Tell us more
Being a teenager in the pre-#MeToo era was a nightmare. I remember very clearly flicking through pages of Heat magazine to the Circle of Shame page, as if having a normal body was an ungodly sin. From school to school, there were videos that could now be described as revenge porn. I remember hearing boys discuss these tapes like pundits. Then there were the rape jokes. And the fear of pregnancy and having to seek help abroad. There’s a lot of resonance between then and now. It’s just repackaged. Now, we’re dealing with a much more violent strain of this through incel culture.
Emigration has always been a feature of Irish life and writing. Returning home is a recent twist (Close to Home by Michael Magee, Lazy City by Rachel Connolly). What did living abroad teach you about your identity? How important is identity in your writing?
When I moved to England in 2008 it was as if my identity was revealed to me in its totality. That may sound strange, but it was when I first heard and saw myself through the eyes of another. My accent was spoken back to me, mockingly. So many times I’d be asked to say “potato” only for them to realise the Belfast accent wasn’t the singsong lilt they were hoping for.
[ Exile by Aimée Walsh: Haunted territories, hidden traumaOpens in new window ]
Do you see your work as part of a wave of more confident or assertive Irish writing from the North?
Writing from the North is quite assertive by nature. I think Exile is part of a wave of new novels concerned with the material crises we’re facing in the North: austerity, violence against women and girls, and economic exile.
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What is the literary scene like in the North? Is it able to transcend social divisions?
I’ve just moved home and the literary scene is so welcoming. I felt the divisions much more acutely in England than I do any social division in the North.
Your PhD topic at Liverpool John Moores University in Irish literature and cultural history will be published by Liverpool University Press as Writing Resistance in Northern Ireland this April. Tell us more
When I started the PhD, I was completely taken by the women prisoners in Armagh Gaol and their bodily protests. Writing Resistance explores how this ignited debates within feminist and republican groups through pamphlets, literary texts and historical narratives of the Troubles.
Liverpool is very much a sister city to Belfast. How would you sum the cities up?
Liverpool is filled with the loveliest people, but Belfast gives me that feeling of catching the eye of a familiar face in the crowd.
You review regularly for The Irish Times and others. What strikes you?
Books that speak to our current times, no matter what era they’re set in.
You’ve also been a journalist. Has that fed into your writing?
Absolutely, it’s fuelled my curiosity about the lives of others. I love how people mythologise themselves.
Which projects are you working on?
I’m working on a second novel, which is about the New York Irish during the 1980s.
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
I haven’t, but I’d love to visit Jane Austen’s house.
What is the best writing advice you have heard?
The first draft will be rubbish.
Who do you admire the most?
Bernadette Devlin McAliskey.
You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish?
I’d increase funding for healthcare. Nobody should have to wait years to be treated.
Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend?
The Zone of Interest is the most moving piece of cinema I’ve ever seen. Adania Shibli’s Minor Detail is a must-read. Patrick Radden Keefe’s podcast Winds of Change about the CIA writing a power ballad is bizarre and brilliant.
Which public event affected you most?
The current genocide in Gaza.
The most remarkable place you have visited?
Bagan City of Temples in Myanmar (formerly Burma).
Your most treasured possession?
I’m the guardian of an 18-year-old chihuahua, who we adopted when she was already 10.
What is the most beautiful book that you own?
My tattered copy of Audre Lorde’s Your Silence Will Not Protect You. I love the broken spine and the way it flops open to well-thumbed pages.
Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party?
I’d like to order pizza with Jane Austen, Ali Smith and Toni Morrison.
The best and worst things about where you live?
For both, you’ll always see somebody you know even on a quick trip to the shop for milk.
What is your favourite quotation?
“Your silence will not protect you” – Audre Lorde.
Who is your favourite fictional character?
Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead.
A book to make me laugh?
The only book to ever make me laugh out loud is the audiobook of Joe Lycett’s Parsnips, Buttered.
A book that might move me to tears?
Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking.
Exile by Aimée Walsh is published by John Murray
