The story behind ‘Before the Leaves Fall’

In just a few days, Before the Leaves Fall will be available in Switzerland. Elsewhere, the launch date is October 23rd. Now that the book is so close to being in the hands of readers, I feel I can tell you more about it.

The first interview about the novel was published by newinzurich.com recently. I’m going to borrow a couple of answers from that interview to tell you some of the whys and wherefores of this standalone story, which is linked to my first novel, Voting Day.

First of all, you should know that this is a story about a person who has decided to end her life with the help of an assisted dying organisation. Even though it is a hopeful story about human connection, healing and self-determination, I do think that it might be upsetting for anyone currently too close to bereavement.

So why would I be drawn to such a sombre topic, and assisted dying in particular? Well, it might be partly to do with being middle-aged and seeing the different, often difficult but sometimes beautiful ways life comes to an end. Or as I said in the newinzurich interview:

“Assisted suicide is always in the air in Switzerland, whether it’s peripherally in news stories or through the direct experience of people you know. I’m interested in how it becomes a path for some but not for others, who may even be suffering more.”

Introducing Ruedi and Margrit

One of the conversations my two protagonists have is about what makes life worth living, or not. They are past any pretence and can speak honestly. So, who are these characters? Ruedi is a Swiss widower in his seventies living in Bern. He worked for the Swiss Federal Railways until he had to retire early to look after his sick wife. As a child, he spent time in care and he still feels shame about his origins. Ruedi is freshly trained in the role of facilitator for Depart, a fictional assisted dying organisation, and Margrit is his first client.

“Margrit is in her late eighties and has become quite contrary in old age. She has a strained relationship with her two sons and has lived a life of material comfort but ultimately failed to find meaning or satisfaction in her lot as a traditional wife and mother.  When the two characters realise their paths have crossed before, it sparks some new self-discovery for both of them.”

If you’re familiar with Voting Day, set in 1959 on the day Swiss men voted ‘no’ to granting women the vote, you will recognise these names. Ruedi was a foster child in that book and Margrit, a young woman struggling to maintain her independence, was kind to him.

There are a lot of authors who revisit characters from one book to the next. Jonathan Coe, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing this week in Geneva, has done it a lot, as has another of my favourite authors Elizabeth Strout. Donal Ryan recently released Heart, be at Peace, “a heartfelt, lyrical novel that can be read independently, or as a companion to his first book The Spinning Heart“. I like that way of phrasing the connection, and might borrow it, if Penguin Random House doesn’t mind.

A tale of two launches

For the Swiss contingent, I hope to see some of you at the launch next Thursday, October 9th at 8pm in Stauffacher Bookshop in Bern. There’s a link to sign up for the event (Anmeldung) but you can also turn up on the night and buy a ticket at the door (CHF 15). I’ll be in conversation with Helen Stubbs Pugin and the discussion, followed by signing and apéro, will be in English.

Irish friends, readers and country(wo)men are warmly invited to the Dublin launch at The Gutter Bookshop, Temple Bar on Thursday, October 23rd at 6.30pm. Sarah Moore Fitzgerald will be hosting that gathering and I can promise Swiss chocolate, just as we had for the launch of The Naked Swiss in the same venue in 2016.

I’m very grateful that my editor from Fairlight Books, Laura Shanahan, will be joining us for the Dublin launch. And the Irish Ambassador Aoife McGarry will say a few words of welcome at the Swiss launch.

If you can’t make it to either of those countries on either of those dates, you can really help the visibility of Before the Leaves Fall by ordering it already at your local bookshop or online, and by spreading the word. Part of me is nervous about what reception this book will have but I wouldn’t be taking the leap if I didn’t trust that some readers will find truth in it and new things to think about.

The Woman Who Went to Bed For a Year

No it’s not me. The most I have managed is half a day. Great title though. When I saw that this novel was written by the British icon of young adult comic fiction in the 1980s, Sue Townsend, I was intrigued. I hadn’t read anything of hers since the early titles of the Adrian Mole series.

The Woman Who Went to Bed for a Year is a cautionary tale for wives and mothers everywhere. When your identity – and all your time – is subsumed by what you do for other people, you may suddenly find yourself a lost cause.

On the day her twins leave home for university, Eva climbs into bed and stays there. She doesn’t have a plan or a manifesto, just a conviction which evolves into a phobia that she cannot leave that bed.

Against this backdrop Townsend introduces a host of characters, some loveable, some dreadful but all very human and highly amusing. The best laughs of the book come from the antics of Eva’s appalling husband Brian, closely followed by his long-suffering mother.

What I like about the book is that it’s entertaining first and thought provoking second. It will be enjoyed by young women – should even be handed out in maternity wards as a guide to the pitfalls of mothering (and marriage!) – but perhaps most appreciated by older women.

On a practical level what I took away from Townsend’s story was a decision to step back ever so slightly last Christmas. Eva’s long description of the exhausting self-imposed burden that the family’s Christmas celebrations had become rang warning bells for me. This time round I shared the festive secrets and the to-do list, and will do my best to resist the temptation from now on to scale up the traditions and obligations from year to year.

Back to Blackbrick

May I introduce myself? I was the person sitting next to you on the flight last Sunday who had to keep closing her book because she was welling up. I also had to keep going back to it because I was hooked by the plot. What was I reading? Back to Blackbrick by Sarah Moore Fitzgerald. I don’t normally read young adult fiction; it all looks a bit deliberately silly to me – judging by the covers (I know!). But this novel is different. The main character Cosmo is like Adrian Mole’s sweet younger cousin. He has all the right instincts in the face of life’s challenges, without the judgement or the conviction to make the right moves. Cosmo can’t really handle his emotions and yet he is the character who remains truest to those he loves.

Who hasn’t dreamt of going back in time to see how our forefathers lived? The Blackbrick of the title is the stately home where Cosmo’s grandfather lived and worked as a boy. Distressed at his grandfather’s decline brought on by Alzheimer’s, Cosmo goes back to Blackbrick and discovers a way to unlock the secrets that overshadowed his grandfather’s early life. There are some pretty adult themes in Back to Blackbrick – bereavement, the perils of the class system and the stigmatisation of unmarried mothers. But here is a writer who can make you smile when she describes the tragic advance of dementia, who celebrates the bonds of family and friendship no matter what. If you are looking for something a little more meaningful to buy your teenagers or bright pre-teens, Back to Blackbrick is it.

Sarah Moore Fitzgerald’s book was launched earlier this month in Limerick and Dublin, published by Orion. The US version will be published soon as far as I know and translations are in the pipeline. So, bearing in mind the small disclaimer that I was once Sarah’s sweet younger cousin (less sweet now), rest assured this is an exceptional piece of fiction.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Back-Blackbrick-Sarah-Moore-Fitzgerald/dp/1444006592

True History of the Kelly Gang

Last October I stepped off a bus in Wicklow town on the east coast of Ireland into hard driving rain. I made a run for the old town jail, a place I’d been meaning to visit for a while. On the tour of the building, which dates from 1702, visitors are transported back to crueller times, just as the inmates of the prison were once transported to Australia. You learn about the inhumane conditions the prisoners, including children, were kept in, the miserable rations they were given on the ocean voyage and the petty crimes, borne of poverty, which sealed their fate.

Under the Banishment Act, Irish convicts from Wicklow Gaol were sentenced to transportation up to 1856, around the time the infamous outlaw Ned Kelly, son of an Irish convict, was born in Victoria.

Kelly, whose remains were only given a proper burial in January this year, is a hero to many (though not all) in Australia but whatever your political colours, Peter Carey’s truly original novel True History of the Kelly Gang is captivating. Narrated in Kelly’s voice, the words come tumbling onto the page charged with passion and pain. It is such a convincing account, the period details and nineteenth century Irish-Australian idiom so fresh and vivid that within a few lines, you are there in the hot, dusty township walking in the footsteps of the little boy Kelly.

Carey’s novel is a story of a pride, prejudice and the abuse of power. It is also the story of a son’s love for his mother and the human capacity for endurance. When you read True History of the Kelly Gang you wear the clothes of the downtrodden colonials, eat their food and feel their burning sense of injustice. It must be one of the most accomplished fictional representations of the life of an historical figure. You believe Ned Kelly is speaking, you want it to be him – and you don’t want it to end.