| Sarah
Waters |
Interview
by Ron Hogan  |
Although
Sarah
Waters lives and writes in England, Beatrice.com's Ron Hogan had the good
fortune to meet with her when she made a trip to New York City to meet with
the American publisher of her two novels, Tipping
the Velvet and Affinity.
Waters smashes the clichés of "lesbian literature" -- especially its (too often
deserved) reputation for poor literary quality -- with these two stories set
in Victorian England. Her prose quite deftly captures the voice of British novels
of the period, but it's her rich characterizations -- and, in Affinity,
her skillful development of suspense -- that have garnered the novels critical
praise from mainstream reviewers as well as the gay and lesbian press.
Ron Hogan: Had
you been writing fiction when you were younger, before you started working on
your advanced degrees in literary studies?
Sarah Waters:
No, not at all. It was only through doing the Ph.D. thesis that I was able to
go on and do the fiction; it gave me the discipline and the confidence to write.
As soon as I finished the thesis -- well, I'd had the idea for the first novel,
Tipping the Velvet, while I was writing the thesis, and I tried to start
writing the novel too, but it was too hard to be doing two things at once. So
as soon as I finished, I gave myself a year to try and write the novel, and
it was like, "Oh my God, can I even write fiction at all?" It took about 18
months altogether. I suppose I'd done some research before for the thesis that
I could use, but as I went along I did research for the other sections, too.
What was your
field of study?
It was lesbian
and gay literature, modern lesbian and gay writing from roughly the late nineteenth
century. In that sense it really led straight into the novels, or rather the
novels came out of the kinds of thinking I was doing.
What interested
you specifically in the late Victorian setting when you started that first novel?
I touched on
it when I was doing the thesis, looking at gay men's writing from the period
-- there's quite a lot of it, and it was very identifiable, you know, Wilde
and the people around Wilde, and so on. It's a hinge time between earlier nineteen
century stuff which is really quite foreign to us and the modernist stuff, as
well as a time when we began to get a recognizably modern gay subculture. I
thought about what there might be around for women, lesbians of the period,
and so the music hall, male impersonation...I got into what that might mean
for women viewers and for the women doing it. I have read a lot, and do still
read a lot, of Victorian fiction because it's a way of really getting into the
period -- simply immersing yourself in it. I found it came quite naturally in
a way to write in a Victorian style.
How did you
get the idea for the second novel, Affinity?
The
first one is very upbeat, you know, kind of a romp. I began to think it would
be interesting to write something that was a bit grimmer and a bit darker. I've
been interested in spiritualism for a long time. I was writing a academic article
on it when I finished Tipping, though even before that I'd been interested
in it as a phenomenon. And I'd been very interested in prisons, too, so I just
saw this possibility of bringing the two things together, prisons and spiritualism,
which at first seemed quite arbitrary. As I began to write, though, I began
to see connections and overlaps between them institutions.
It was also a
question of doing something more or less in the same period as Tipping,
but very different in that while the first novel deliberately had a wide range
of models for lesbian communities, I wrote Affinity with characters who
for the most part didn't have any lesbian models at all. There's Margaret's
isolated and unreturned passion, and there's the world with the prisons which
obviously could breed quite strong female attachments which you wouldn't necessarily
call lesbianism, attachments that could be erotic or non-erotic, but very intense
either way. And spiritualism too allowed for the possibility of quite queer
things going on -- I mean queer in every sense of the word, including the erotic.
You had women impersonating male spirits and with that potential for contact
in a spiritualist setting between women, I was intrigued.
When you were
researching the spiritualist world, did you run into examples of the "sexual
therapy" for unknowing lesbians you describe in the novel?
Not explicitly,
no, but the whole idea of affinities intrigued me. There was certainly a lot
of talk around the idea. Spiritualist were often charged with being anti- marriage
and pro-divorce, because they'd argue that you could marry the wrong person,
that you could have an affinity with someone else, and so you should be allowed
to break these temporal bonds for the sake of the longer lasting affinity. So
some spiritualists certainly took a more liberal approach to relationships,
but I didn't really actually come across in my research evidence that that was
being used by lesbians or gay men in support of their own relationships. Still,
I began to see it as a possibility. And, too, one of the big nineteenth century
male spiritualists had quite a strange relationship with a young aristocrat,
and it's quite possible to read between the lines of the literature around them
and conclude that there was something erotic going on.
Are you staying
with the Victorian era for your next novel?
Yes, but slightly
earlier, in the 1860s this time. I feel I've gone just about as Victorian as
I can possibly go with this new book. It's lighter than Affinity, more
of a melodrama, drawing from the melodramatic sensation fiction of the period.
It's been good fun to write, more so than Affinity which is quite grim
to write. But I think after this I might leave the Victorian area for awhile.
That must
be a rather daunting prospect.
But it's a challenge
as well, and I think I've got to a point where it would be good for me to take
on a different idiom, to be drawing upon a different set of traditions.
And you don't
want to be typecast.
No, I don't.
I was worried about that, what with doing these two and then another one. But
then there's something about three -- they're not a trilogy, but there's still
a sense of completion to having written three and then moving on.
You've stopped
doing academic research, though I gather that you've continued to teach. Do
you want to go back to the academy at some point, or is it pretty much creative
writing from this point onward?
I stopped teaching
actually. I want to press on with the writing for the foreseeable future. The
academic world is such that when you're teaching, you really need to be researching
and publishing as well, and once you've left, it's impossibly difficult to get
back in and catch up with what's happened in the field since you left. But I've
done creative writing teaching recently for the first time, and I might pursue
that a bit more if I get the chance.
Affinity
Look
for Sarah
Waters' books on BookSense.com
Sarah Waters was
born in Wales in 1966. She has a Ph.D. in English Literature and has published
articles on lesbian and gay writing and cultural history. She was selected as
the Times of London Novelist of the Year for 2000. Affinity won
the American Library Association's Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgendered
Book Award for 2001, and was a finalist for the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize. Tipping
the Velvet won the Lambda Literary Award for fiction, and was picked as
one of Library Journal's Best Books of 1999.
|