In the latest in our book series, author and contributor to TheJournal.ie LISA MCINERNEY tells SOPHIE GRENHAM about finding herself amongst the limestone of THE BURREN, her love of overcrowded bookstores and living in YEAT’S HOMETOWN …
Galway writer Lisa McInerney’s spectacular debut has been one of the most eagerly welcomed and applauded books the literary scene has witnessed in years.
The Glorious Heresies (John Murray, 2015) has won praise from Ireland’s most treasured authors, including Joseph O’Connor, Kevin Barry and Belinda McKeon, as well as rave reviews from the top tier of literary critics in both Ireland and the UK.
Also known as her online persona Sweary Lady, Lisa wrote a successful blog called Arse End of Ireland. Her mischievous depiction of working class life in a Galway council estate won the Best Humour accolade at the Irish Blog Awards in 2009.
She has contributed to Culch.ie, feminist site The Anti Room and TheJournal.ie.
Lisa lives in Gort with her husband and daughter.
On home
I’m a Gort native, which is very handy as it’s a relatively inexpensive and pleasant place to live. It’s close to the Burren and to the sea and Lady Gregory and W. B. Yeats both lived here, so it’s good for literary steeping. It’s a small rural community with only a faintly arty edge. We’ve got some nice little places to eat – the Gallery cafe is a quirky little gaff and there’s a lovely new restaurant called Sásta which has finally brought us the concept of brunch, but in Gort cider is still served as an unopened Bulmers can stuck into a pint glass and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Also, it’s quiet, with few distractions, so it’s a place in which a writer can get a lot done.
But I do miss Cork, where I’ve spent a significant portion of my life. I’m much happier in a city, even though cities are full of distractions and therefore not ideal settings for easily-diverted writers like me. There you go: I suffer for my art. In Cork I’m fond of places like Italee and Orso and the Roundy, but I’m happiest just wandering around with a takeaway coffee – Cork has a proliferation of brilliant coffee places. I like being around people. Luckily I’m in the position where I can then retreat to the countryside to write up whatever the city’s sparked off in me.
On creating
My office is in our box room in my home. I’ve replaced the bed with bookcases and there’s a desk where the chest of drawers should be. The desk faces the wall – again, I’m too easily distracted to be trusted in front of the window – and it’s relatively ordered. I have a couple of video game figures below my computer monitor to keep me company, but other than that there’s nothing on the desk except the essentials: pens, notebooks and a tub of Vicks VapoRub because I’m kind of addicted to the smell.
On her most loved book seller
Charlie Byrne’s in Galway is my favourite bookshop. There’s something so chaotic about it; there are books on the floor, under tables, in corners. It’s a place in which the love for the written word is barely contained. Actually, it’s not contained, because there are books in piles and on shelves outside of the shop too. When I was small I used to love going to my cousins’ house because there were eight of them and the place was always teeming and boisterous and brilliant. Well, Charlie’s is like that, but with books instead of cousins.
On literature
I’ve always been drawn to bleakness in fiction. As a child I had a thing for post-apocalyptic stories, and happily (or unhappily) there were plenty of them around in the 80s and 90s. As a teenager I was really into Melvin Burgess, and Junk remains one of my favourite books. These days my fondness for Hubert Selby Jr is well-known (to the extent that it provokes eye-rolling in the people around me). Selby’s works are always of their own adamantly dismal little world and I’ve been an eager resident of each one, while it lasted. There is something about relentless ferocity in art. I like being shaken by a book, and if I’m so shaken that I can’t stand to read it a second time, even better.
On exploring
With the Burren so close it’d be a crime not to make the most of it. If I need to clear my head I’ll do so in the wilderness, and you don’t get much wilder. All that limestone. It’s like being on the moon. But I’m most drawn to the parts where the Burren meets the sea, and the road between Fanore and Ballyvaughan makes me very happy indeed. Especially on a clear day, when you can see all the way to Galway City.
When I’m in Cork it means jumping into the car and heading west for the day, knocking for Gougane Barra or somewhere like that. Mountains, woods, streams and caves. For someone so happy in the city I have a contrary longing for wild Ireland.
On what tickles her funny bone
Something utterly silly played straight: the po-faced bizarre, or a world operating under ludicrous tenets and populated by frustrated realists. Discworld is my go-to place for that, though at the moment I’m reading Mark Dunn’s Ibid, which is, perfectly, equal parts eloquent and deranged. In real life I’m very easily amused and find it hard to take anything seriously. I could find innuendo in the stuffiest legal document.
The Glorious Heresies (€11.99) is available in all good bookshops nationwide.
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