Congratulations on an outstanding debut novel. Tell us about The Visit.
The novel is set in New Ross in June 1963, as the town prepares for president JK Kennedy’s visit. Garda Jim Field feels responsibility for a troubled outcast named Patrick Hatten, living on the fringes of the community. As the month progresses, Patrick’s actions threaten to unravel Jim, and the town. It’s a fusion of interests of my own – Kennedy, that generation of men and women, the casualties of progress. I wrote the sort of novel I like to read – a small town, a sense of trouble lurking, with focus on atmosphere and place.
It was also partly inspired by photographs in Ryan Tubridy’s JFK in Ireland? Why was JFK so key?
I don’t believe any figure has captured the national mood or aspiration as much as Kennedy did in 1963. To return as president just three generations after a Kennedy leaving at the height of the famine is an incredible story that Irish people connected deeply with. That’s true even if you’re wary of nostalgia or romanticising the Kennedy tale. In JFK in Ireland, the contrast between the young men watching on and Kennedy is very poignant and the character of Patrick had its origin in those faces.
Is there a parallel between JFK keeping the world safe and Jim watching over New Ross?
Yes, Jim sees the threatening tractors aimed at Patrick’s land as his own missile crisis to handle. We probably all like to imagine similarities with people we admire, and Jim is no different.
The Visit captures Ireland at a pivotal point, embracing modernity over piety and poverty. Dev and JFK are “like men from different centuries”.
If I had made up the characters of Dev, and an American president who wouldn’t look out of place on modern-day Grafton Street, any editor would have said the symbolism was too on the nose for a novel about the tension between progress and the past.
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I was reminded of Patrick McCabe’s The Butcher Boy, about a small-town outcast plotting revenge against the backdrop of the Cuban missile crisis.
A great observation – Francie Brady and Patrick Hatten might have made dangerous friends. Francie as well as Lester Ballard from Child of God were touchstones for Patrick.
The Visit’s chapters alternate between the viewpoints of Jim and Patrick. What were the pros and cons of this structure?
Jim needed a first-person voice – he’s a thinker and a romantic – whereas the third person for Patrick adds a distance that suits his isolation. Letting the reader know what Patrick is up to before Jim does helped to build tension. Alternating chapters risk getting repetitive, but it can be managed with effective pacing.
The novel has a strong social conscience, dwelling on class and privilege; abandoned wives having no property rights; even the incipient civil rights movement in the North. (Is Patrick’s violent response to abuse a parallel to the North?)
I think backlash, not necessarily violent, is an inevitable consequence to any person(s) marginalised or deprived of opportunity. It wasn’t a conscious parallel to draw but makes perfect sense in that regard. The hopeful thing is that you can look at all of those issues in 1963 and the strides men and women made year on year, decade on decade.
“We carry our mistakes until we atone, Jim. The best place to bury the past is in the future.” It’s a powerful line. Is it your philosophy too?
I think so. We should, of course, aim to apply what we learn from mistakes for better outcomes now. On a national or collective level, I don’t know how many subsequent generations should be expected to carry the sins of previous ones.
Like John McGahern and Shane Connaughton, you’re the son of a garda. Did that inspire your protagonist Jim Field?
A lot of Jim’s empathy, kindness and open-door approach to policing was inspired by my father. I think the work of gardaí remains a bit underappreciated.
Your father was a great reader?
He loved Dickens and the classics. I have a clear memory of him reading Crime and Punishment, then explaining to me what happened in each chapter in ways an 11-year-old might understand.
You’re a dentist by profession. Does it make you a better writer to have a career beyond working with words?
It helps to be out in the world, and is good for balance and discipline. I know I’m going to give X-amount of hours a week to not writing, so when I get to my desk there’s a welcome pressure to make it count.
You commuted from Cork to UL to pursue a master’s degree in creative writing. What drove you? And what did you learn?
It was a post-lockdown commitment to formally learning about something I really care about. Apart from improving as a writer, the course taught me how to build writing into as many aspects of my life as possible, so that things are serving writing even when not sitting doing it.
How did an Irish Writers Centre mentorship with Niall Williams help?
It was transformative. I have great memories of Clare. We’re incredibly lucky to have opportunities like that – an emerging writer invited to the home of an expert for mentorship is invaluable.
Music can be a fantastic motivator for writing, you wrote. Tell us why or how.
Writers strive for the lyricism of great songwriters. If the start of Idiot Wind was the start of a short story, everybody would keep reading. You could teach a writing workshop using the 250 words in LA Freeway. Music creates a tone or mood in the mind that is incredibly useful before going to write.
Which projects are you working on?
I hope my second novel will get an editor’s eye soon.
What is the best writing advice?
Guy Clark said that a good song allows the listener space to use their imagination. That if he fills in every detail it becomes his story, but holes in the right places let it become the listener’s. That applies to fiction too.
Who do you admire the most?
People battling serious illness with strength that is hard to comprehend.
You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish?
I’d bring back the guillotine for blasting noise from phones in shared public spaces.
Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend?
Seán Farrell’s Frogs for Watchdogs, having a second wind with its UK release; Train Dreams; Making Sense with Sam Harris.
Which public event affected you most?
The Covid pandemic and our response to it upended the world in ways we are still only beginning to feel.
The most remarkable place you have visited?
Iceland.
Your most treasured possession?
I’m probably too sentimental about anything my wife gives me.
What is the most beautiful book that you own?
My father’s Crime and Punishment.
Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party?
Cormac McCarthy, John le Carré and Hugh McIlvanney.
The best and worst things about where you live?
Cork has all the ingredients to be the best small city in Europe. But the roads are so bad that you need to wear a helmet to drive to work.
What is your favourite quotation?
“I’ll know my song well before I start singing” – Bob Dylan.
Who is your favourite fictional character?
John Grady Cole from Cormac McCarthy’s Border Trilogy.
A book to make me laugh?
Jim Dodge’s Fup.
A book that might move me to tears?
The Visit is published by Eriu on March 26th
