Year-end Roundup: A Chat with Nicole Lundrigan and an overview of GLASS BOYS

Glass Boys is the fourth novel by Newfoundland novelist Nicole Lundrigan, an author dubbed as “a serious contender for the next great Canadian novelist” by critic Sarah Weinman. It received rave reviews throughout 2011, and landed on Amazon.ca’s top 100 books of 2011.

Her previous work has enjoyed plenty of recognition, including comparisons to Faulkner & David Adams Richards, and the Globe and Mail‘s Margaret Cannon put her debut, Unraveling Arva, on her Top 10 Books of the Year list. But Glass Boys, in keeping with her consistent growth between books, is her best one yet.

It’s a family saga, sped-up and clipped of as much filler as possible, centering on a tension-filled history between the Trench and Fagan families. Lundrigan presents us with the daily lives and histories of Lewis Trench and Eli Fagan, along with their wives and children, and the ways they shape — and misshape — one another. The book features a full cast of broken characters: there’s the troubled son and the mother too spiritually withered to see it; the wife and the bad man she married to get a roof over her son’s head; the perfect son and the guilt-ridden mother who cannot reciprocate his love; the husband turning a blind eye to his wife’s dark side until she’s literally out of his sight. For a book juggling half-a-dozen points of view, Lundrigan does a commendable job keeping them all distinct.

There are enough commendable qualities in Lundrigan’s approach to the family saga to put her novel in the same ranks as similar contemporary classics, such as David Adams Richards’ Mercy Among the Children. In fact, Lundrigan and Richards share many of the same strengths as writers. But Nicole’s writing is distinct, and something of a “best of” collection of my favourite traits of Newfoundland writing: raw human stories with crisp, lush writing, and empathetic in a way that connects reader to story like a fly in a web. This was one of the best Canadian novels of the year.

Read Salty Ink’s Review of Glass Boys (in the National Post) here.

What’s been a highlight for you and Glass Boys this year?

There have been a number of highlights, but the best has been the reader reaction. I’ve had so many readers contact me through my website to share their impressions, and I’m so touched by some of the notes. For me, the best highlight is when a reader says, “I can’t wait for your next book.”

Off the top of your head, without struggling for “favourites,” name one or two books you really love by an Atlantic Canadian author.

Kathleen Winter’s Annabel and Lisa Moore’s February always jump to mind. I’ll never forget Lure of the Labrador Wild by Dillon Wallace, and my childhood favourite Down by Jim Long’s Stage by Al Pittman.

What are some of the best books you read in 2011?

I read both Annabel and February, which were amazing. And I loved Light Lifting by Alexander MacLeod, Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy, Florence and Giles by John Harding, and The Solitude of Prime Numbers by Paolo Giordano.

What are you looking for in a book, when you crack the spine and read?

It really depends on the book. Could be simply information, or a good laugh, or to have a creepy feeling when the lights go out, or to have my heart squeezed.

Any pet peeves with the book industry?

No pet peeves really. Everyone I’ve met who writes or is in publishing works incredibly hard. Some things are certainly disheartening, like independent bookstores closing. Or large bookstores shipping books back to the publisher after what seems like a blink. It’s a real knuckle to the heart. Does that count?

What’s your favourite part of the writing process, your least favourite?

My favourite part of writing is adding to the bones. Least favourite is building the skeleton.

You’ve got an interesting background. You’re an archeologist turned writer, you’ve played a role in sea turtle conservation, you’ve played a hands-on role in bringing healthcare to small villages in Guyana. You’ve lived in France with a Baron and Baroness in the Chateau de Prouzel. Do you think living a “storied life” helps an author in crafting stories? Or is the recipe for literary fiction simply:  imagination meets rumination on life?

Imagination is key, of course, but I think there’s more to it. I’ve always had an adventurous spirit, and like to do things that feel difficult. Travel was so important to me, and it really helped to shape who I am. Certain experiences were very humbling.

In addition to imagination and a wide variety of interests, I suspect writers need a stubborn streak as well. When I first started writing Unraveling Arva, I told someone I was writing a book, and he said, “Sure, tell me again when you’ve got ten pages.” Now I tend to be somewhat secretive about my progress, as I never know when I’ll run into a snarl.

You’ve written for some interesting places. How’d you end up writing for Law & Order: Police Management? Was your freelance writing a gateway into writing fiction?

When I was freelance writing I tapped into various personal experiences (my trip to Guyana) or my education (the Law & Order stuff). With Law & Order, I just contacted the editor of the magazine through email, explained my background, and asked if he’d review an article I’d written. He said yes, liked it, published it, and it went from there.

In some ways freelance writing gave me courage. The editors were all very positive about my writing. So in that way, it was a gateway to this crazy world of fiction.

As tragedy falls around all of the characters in Glass Boys, somehow Toby remains the spark of light in the novel. He’s not happy go lucky, so much as he is where the reader lays their hope. Was that a conscious decision? Do you have a reason for this?

No, not a conscious decision, that’s just who he was. I try to get to know my characters as I write them, and from the onset, Toby was different from the others. He dealt with sadness, but didn’t quite absorb it. He was very open and aware of others, and not a hurtful kid. He always wanted to make things easier, better.

The book features a full cast of broken characters: the spiritually withered mother who doesn’t notice a budding darkness in her troubled son; the wife and the bad man she married to get a roof over her son’s head; the perfect son and the guilt-ridden mother who cannot reciprocate his love; the husband turning a blind eye to his wife’s dark side until she’s literally out of his sight. Which relationship in the novel was the most tragic in your mind? The most beautiful?

This is a tough question, and I might change my answer tomorrow. Right now I’d say the connection between the mother and her sons. For various reasons, she is unable to connect to them, doesn’t feel that she deserves the adoration they are offering. I found this heartbreaking – for the mother, but mostly for the boys. The rejection is devastating.

Most beautiful I would say is the bond between the two brothers. There’s a part in the story near the end when Toby goes to visit Melvin. Every time I read it my eyes well up. I’m a bit of a softie, but I love how deeply they care for each other.

Everyone has a history, and this novel feels built on that premise. Would you agree writing a novel is merely answering a series of questions about your characters, once you’ve put them into the very first scene and observed their reactions?

No, I wouldn’t agree with that statement. Questions, yes, but I feel it’s about so much more than that. It’s about believing, understanding, respecting, exploring, and connecting. And stepping out of the way.

Speaking of which, what’s it like as a writer to hear other people making presumptions, and taking away different reactions about your work?

I certainly find people’s reactions interesting. I recently attended a book club via Skype and one of the readers expressed her fears over a particular scene. And her interpretation of it was entirely (and I mean completely) different from what I’d intended. The thoughts she had never even entered my mind. I was really surprised, but I could easily see her point.

When a male writer takes on the voice of a female character, or the opposite, there’s always the question of “How’d you do that?” or “How did you find that?” Personally, I don’t find it difficult or that much different, as we’re embodying characters, not genders. And, ultimately, don’t we all share the same emotions. Do you agree, disagree, fall in the middle?

I don’t really give it much thought. I just write the character’s personality in a way that feels authentic.

Notable critic Sarah Weinman dubbed you “a serious contender for the next great Canadian novelist.” How, if at all, has your approach to crafting a novel changed now that you have both the experience of having written 4, and, experienced public reaction to your work?

I like to think I’m getting better at telling a story, but I still find it super hard work. Public reaction is wonderful (when it’s positive), but it really doesn’t affect the way I write.

You leave a lot up to the reader in this novel, like if the death in the opening scene was an accident or murder. It enriches the reading experience, I believe, to let readers write some of the story themselves. Is this a conscious effort? And, do you have the answers you don’t give on the page, like, if Roy Trench’s death was murder or an accident?

To be honest, when I working on a manuscript, not much is a conscious effort. I really try to let my characters dictate what will happen. Occasionally I try to impose my own ideas or toss in some lines that I think sound clever, but I always go back and delete. If I’m re-reading my writing, and am aware of myself, notice myself on the edge of the page, I have to remove it.

I do have an impression about Roy’s death, but only Eli Fagan knows for sure what was in his heart at that moment.

Can you give us a few lines on what your manuscript in progress is about and when it’ll be published?

I’m writing a literary mystery about three children who discover something valuable in a government field in the 1950s, in Yugoslavia, and make the risky decision to keep it. Shortly afterwards, one of the children disappears. The story covers the before and after of the two remaining children, as well as the mother of the missing boy.

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