Next month my latest novel, So the Doves, is published, there will be press and a party and I’ve bought a new dress… all very exciting. And terrifying of course.
I just read Danuta Kean’s piece on Up-Lit in the Guardian, where she’s describing a new trend in literature that shows ‘an appetite for everyday heroism, human connection and love…’ who can blame us for wanting to be reminded that us beings are capable of empathy and kindness at a time when it seems we are rolling around political and environmental horror like spun coins.
So the Doves has it’s fair share of darkness – it’s a psychological thriller after all, about corruption, lies, the media and government – but when I was writing it, I wanted to get away from abjection, away from the helpless female victim, away from unrelenting poverty and lack of ambition. I wanted, and hope I’ve achieved, a sense of hope, hope that loyalty and friendship will win out, that sometimes the poor kid escapes and that maybe, just a tiny bit of redemption is possible, even if not totally assured or easy.