At the Centrale Bibliotheek in The Hague, BorderKitchen hosted a talk with the esteemed Irish novelist, essayist, and literary critic Colm Tóibín. I had the pleasure of attending this intimate gathering, where Tóibín took time to discuss his latest novel, Long Island, the sequel to his award-winning work Brooklyn .
Tóibín opened the door to his novel with a moment of sharp clarity. The protagonist, Eilis Fiorelli, answers a knock that disrupts her quiet life -a man stands there with news that her husband has impregnated his wife and plans to leave the child on her doorstep. The weight of this revelation hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. It felt like a deliberate choice, a catalyst that sends Eilis spiralling, a young woman now confronting a reality far removed from her earlier, more timid existence.
The event felt intimate, despite the full audience. Tóibín has a knack for rendering complex ideas about writing and identity into something tangible, something we can hold. He talked about how he often starts his novels with a question -“What if?” – a question that opens up infinite possibilities. This inquiry is not merely a tool but a doorway, an invitation to explore the nuances of his characters and the emotional landscapes they inhabit. It is an invitation to the reader as well, to engage with their own what-ifs, the personal conjectures that linger beneath the surface of our lives.
In his reflections, Tóibín offered more than just insights into his own work; he held up a mirror to literature itself, revealing its power to transform the personal into the universal. He spoke of the necessity of stories, how they bind us, how they carry the weight of our collective experiences. His words lingered long after the event, leaving me with a renewed sense of purpose: to delve deeper into the narratives that shape our lives and to contemplate the essential questions that propel us forward.
In that room, with Tóibín’s Irish accent cutting through the air, I was reminded of the significance of literature – not just as an escape but as a means to confront our realities, to interrogate the stories we tell ourselves, and to recognize the threads that connect us all. Eva Lakeman 23rd October 2024
Photo by Brigitte Lacombe
