Confessional Narrative

I love reading confessional narratives and have always wanted to write one. I was drawn to the idea that a person might keep a secret their entire life, only to have the memories triggered by something quite unexpected. It seemed likely, to me, that this might happen to a woman nearing the end of her life, who was at a stage of laying ghosts to rest. Nonetheless, I knew the trigger would have to be something pretty strong—after all, Grace’s secret is pretty horrific, and she’s managed to keep it a long time.

Ursula’s Film

It’s amazing how the things you’re looking for have a way of presenting themselves. I was looking for a trigger to bring Grace’s memories to the surface, when one morning in early 2004 I was reading the newspaper and came across an article by Al Alvarez in which he spoke about the surreal experience of having an aspect of his life represented on film. He had been a friend and peer to Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes and had been invited to look at the film set and meet the actor playing him.

The article was very insightful and made me understand how strange it would be to see a scene from one’s past re-created in such a way (indeed, Al Alvarez said it was as eerie as reading one’s own obituary). The more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea of a filmmaker contacting Grace.

The film itself seemed possible: Robbie was a pretty well-known poet (like Plath) who had died by his own hand (also like Plath) and about whom, it seemed reasonable to presume, a cult of mythology had formed. It was also a convenient way of showing things that Grace couldn’t have seen (like the boys going to war). Most importantly, it seemed plausible to me that the chance to visit the set of such a film would prove irresistible to most people, even someone like Grace who had tried so hard to escape the past. It seemed the perfect way of bringing Grace’s ghosts back to haunt her. And those ghosts were beginning to take shape in my mind…

Sisters

I knew I wanted to write about sisters: Grace’s longing for a sister and Hannah’s responsibility to hers are central to the novel’s outcome. I have two sisters of my own and understand well the complicated bonds of sorority: a relationship so attractive to those who don’t have it, so intense for those who do. The shared childhoods, unavoidable envies and comparisons, unbreakable loyalties.

Two of my favourite quotes come from the Mitford sisters. When Nancy said (and I’m paraphrasing here) that ‘sisters are a defence against life’s cruel circumstances’, Jessica countered that ‘sisters are life’s cruel circumstances’. My grandmother married a man her sister brought home to meet the family, and the more I read and spoke to people, the more instances I found of sisterly love triangles. It wasn’t so surprising, I came to realise, that girls who grew up with the same influences and conditions of upbringing might fall in love with the same man. Of the three Curzon sisters, for instance, one married Oswald Mosley and the other two had affairs with him—though perhaps that says more about him, than them! In the case of the Hartford sisters, I’m sure Robbie’s friendship with their brother David, lost at war, added much to his attraction.