Tell us about your debut novel, Ordinary Saints.
Ordinary Saints is about Jay, a queer Irish woman living in London who finds out that her dead older brother, Ferdia, may become a Catholic saint.
It was inspired by Carlo Acutis, the “first millennial saint”, who was due to be canonised two days after your book came out. Tell us about him and the whole canonisation process.
Carlo Acutis was an Italian teenager who died of leukaemia in 2006. He was a very religious child who, among other acts of devotion, built a website cataloguing eucharistic miracles. After reading his story, I became obsessed with the arcane and bizarre process of canonisation. To this day, it involves exhumation, healing miracles, intrusive investigations of candidates’ lives and often, as in Carlo’s case, the public display of physical remains.
Having grown up gay in Ireland, how do you feel about the Catholic Church?
I’ll always be angry about the history of the church in Ireland – the violence inflicted on children, women, queer people and many others. But there is a distinction between the institution and the faithful. In some ways, Ordinary Saints is a celebration of the power of faith, even as it criticises the church.
How did the novel evolve over its various drafts?
On my first draft, I got to 20,000 words then threw them out and started again. At the beginning of that second draft I found my narrator Jay’s voice. From there, the story flowed pretty steadily.
The late Pope Francis crops up in Ordinary Saints. What did you make of him?
I feel quite ambivalent. In many ways, Francis gave us a glimpse of what the Catholic Church could be – a church of the poor and the marginalised. But there always seemed to be a limit to his progressive ambition, particularly when it came to women’s and LGBTQ+ rights.
Do you have a favourite saint?
I’ve always had a grá for Bríd. I appreciate her healthy disregard for authority.
You were shortlisted for the Women’s Prize Trust Discoveries Prize in 2022, and won the inaugural PFD Queer Fiction Prize. Did this help?
Hugely. Writing a debut novel is daunting and the prizes gave me a confidence boost. They also helped me find a community of other writers.
You won The Irish Times debating championship in 2010, as did your father, Eoin, in 1983. Sally Rooney made her name as a debater, too. Does it feed into your writing?
Debating is great training for any career that requires compelling communication. But the whole point is to win arguments and take definitive positions. Fiction is different; it’s about asking open questions and embracing uncertainty.
You live in Edinburgh now. Does the distance help you write about home?
I started Ordinary Saints during lockdown, when I couldn’t travel home. That time gave me both a new clarity about Ireland and a sense of longing, both of which influenced the book.
Like fellow author Michael Collins, you are an endurance athlete. Are there similarities with writing?
Definitely. Writing and distance running are both about showing up every day and putting in the effort, whether you feel like it or not.
Which projects are you working on?
I’ve got a new novel in the works, but I’m very cagey about my works in progress!
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
I’ve lived in three great literary cities, where you can go on mini-pilgrimages all the time. I remember spontaneously changing my cycle route home one evening because I wanted to see the street in London where Beckett’s Murphy lived.
What is the best writing advice you have heard?
Focus on the sentence, the one you’re writing right now.
Who do you admire the most?
The people of Palestine for their courage, humanity and perseverance.
You are the supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish?
I’d establish the necessary legal framework for trans people to live freely and in peace.
Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend?
Stag Dance by Torrey Peters; Conclave; and Critics at Large, a cultural podcast from the New Yorker.
Which public event affected you most?
I was only eight when the Good Friday Agreement was signed, but I vividly remember going to the Stations of the Cross that day and feeling the intensity of all the adults’ emotions.
What is the most beautiful book that you own?
My great-grandfather, Séamas Ó Maoileoin, wrote a book called B’Fhiú an Braon Fola, published by Sairséal agus Dill, about his involvement in the War of Independence. I have a beautiful copy, which includes maps drawn by my grandfather, Ailbe.
The best and worst things about where you live?
Like Dublin, Edinburgh combines all the cultural attractions of the city with easy access to the mountains and the sea. But it is very dark for a lot of the year.
What is your favourite quotation?
The final passage of Middlemarch. “... the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”
Who is your favourite fictional character?
Sally Seton in Mrs Dalloway.
A book to make me laugh?
Wild Geese by Soula Emmanuel. Hilarious, as well as insightful and moving.
A book that might move me to tears?
I most recently cried reading Tomb of Sand by Geetanjali Shree, translated by Daisy Rockwell.
- Ordinary Saints is published by Manilla Press
