Hi Julia, tell us about Still, your tender memoir of your mother, Delphine
Still is about the death and life of my mum, who died swimming in the Galápagos at 71. Her name, Delphine, means dolphin, and her happiest place was the sea, so it was a strangely beautiful end for her.
It’s your shortest book but took the longest to write. How helpful was it in dealing with grief? How hard was it to finish? What has it taught you?
It’s been deeply comforting to celebrate and remember her – to pull her out of the shadows of the smoke-filled kitchen where she spent so much of her life. I hope she would have felt proud.
It was excruciating to finish. The resistance was extraordinary. The book is written in the second person, as a kind of conversation with her, and I didn’t want that conversation to end – and in many ways, it hasn’t.
And what has it taught me? That when all else fails, try microdosing magic mushrooms.
RM Block
Each chapter is prefaced by a clinical postmortem detail. Why use this device?
Reading the postmortem, translated from Spanish, was devastating. A cold, detached account of a body I knew so intimately – every flaw was instantly recognisable.
I wanted to move through each body part and breathe life back into it with memory, so that by the end of the book she felt alive again – and only then could I say goodbye.
You dedicate the book to your four siblings. How did they respond?
We’ve always been close, but even more so now that both of our parents are dead. They were entirely supportive. Each read the final draft before I submitted it, and I was so grateful to have their blessing.
You were only 21 when your father, John Kelly, a former Fine Gael attorney general, died. How did this loss affect you? Did it make you a catastrophist?
That both my parents died so suddenly, decades apart, has left me in a permanent state of high alert, always expecting a crisis.
Matchstick Man (2018) also documented a loss – your relationship with the painter Charlie Whisker and his Alzheimer’s. Could you say something about it?
As with my mother in Still, in Matchstick Man I wanted to put Charlie centre stage, to capture his life as those same memories were dissolving daily from his own mind.
As a fiction writer, how has writing two memoirs felt?
All of my work is rooted in my own life, even the fiction. Writing memoir removes the need to pretend. In some ways, it’s easier, though it still feels like wading through porridge.
Your debut novel With My Lazy Eye (2009) won Best Newcomer at the Irish Book Awards. Describe it
It came out of my relationship with my father, my short-sightedness and my sense of being lost.
Which projects are you working on now?
A book set in Italy – it circles around language and lost children. I think it will become another work of nonfiction.
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
Not quite a pilgrimage, as it’s only a 10-minute walk from home, but I love the James Joyce Museum at the Sandycove Martello tower. It has more atmosphere than most museums – I love listening to Joyce’s words at the top of that blustery tower, sea salt on my lips, the turbulent water below, imagining the days and nights wild geniuses spent there.
What’s the best writing advice you’ve heard?
“Whatever you need to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.” – Doris Lessing
Who do you admire most?
David Attenborough for his devotion to the natural world. My daughter for her unshakeable sense of self.
You are supreme ruler for a day. What law do you pass or abolish?
I’d pass a law that bans all festivals that celebrate animal slaughter. There is something grotesque about crowds merrily gathering to gorge on dead flesh.
Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend?
- Book: Flesh by David Szalay. I’ve only just begun this novel but am already entirely invested and I love Szalay’s spare, precise prose.
- Film: Hard Truths, another Mike Leigh classic – his work always so skilfully combines humour and pathos.
- Podcast: New York Times Audio, The Protocol – a balanced and nuanced exploration of the origins of gender-identity medicine.
Which public event has affected you most?
Every march and protest against the relentless decimation of the Palestinian people.
The most remarkable place you’ve visited?
Joshua Tree National Park in California.
Your most treasured possession?
I’ve kept a small koala from childhood that I love.
The most beautiful book you own?
Advice to Julia by Henry Luttrell, a vintage book that was given to me by my uncle and aunt one Christmas. At the time I was bitterly disappointed – I’d been hoping for an Etch-a-Sketch or a space hopper – but it has survived four house moves and has even been rescued from a skip – not unlike myself, metaphorically speaking!
Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party?
Joan Didion, David Sedaris, Dorothy Parker, John Banville, JD Salinger and Marian Keyes.
Best and worst things about where you live?
Best: living by the sea. Worst: nonstop roadworks and bizarre council decisions that just make things worse.
Your favourite quotation?
“When someone shows you who they are, believe them – the first time.” – Maya Angelou
Favourite fictional character?
Vernon God Little in DBC Pierre’s eponymous novel.
A book to make me laugh?
David Sedaris’s Holidays on Ice.
A book to make me cry?
Nabokov’s short story Signs and Symbols, about the parents of a boy with special needs.
Still is published by New Island
