Interview with Jennifer Donnelly
Jennifer Donnelly Sifts through Adirondack history in A NORTHERN
LIGHT, recipient of the Printz Honor Award
By Karen Magnuson Beil
In a starred review, BOOKLIST calls Jennifer Donnelly’s
debut historical novel, A Northern Light, an “ambitious,
beautifully written coming-of-age story … Many teens will
connect with Mattie’s fierce yearning for independence
and for stories, like her own, that are frank, messy, complicated
and inspiring.”
Ms. Donnelly grew up in the area and her grandmother, like Mattie,
had worked as a waitress at a hotel on Big Moose Lake, the lake
where Grace Brown was murdered. A 1986 University of Rochester
graduate in English literature and European history, she has
worked as an antiques dealer, reporter, and copywriter. Now she
lives in Brooklyn and Callicoon in Sullivan County with her husband,
daughter, and two rescued greyhounds.
Books: A Northern Light (Harcourt, 2003); Humble
Pie (Simon & Schuster,
2002); The Tea Rose (for adult readers; St. Martin’s
Press, 2002).
In her review in The Guardian, novelist Adèle Geras writes: ‘If
ever a novel for teenagers deserved a crossover audience, this
is it.’ Did you write this novel with a particular audience
in mind?
I’m so pleased that adult readers are discovering A Northern
Light and enjoying it, but yes, I did write the novel with a
particular audience in mind – young women who are around
Mattie’s age. I wanted very much to talk to them while
they’re still Mattie, before they’ve become Grace,
and say: “Listen, the world’s a tough place for a
girl. Always has been, always will be. Don’t let others
choose for you. Make your own way. Be wise. Be wary.”
I hope young women will see themselves in Mattie, and will
hear the message that what’s inside of them truly matters. Their
voices and thoughts and dreams matter – not just the voices
and thoughts and dreams of a Jane Austen or an Emily Bronte.
I also hope that Mattie’s experience will reinforce for
girls the importance of self-determination – of deciding
what you want and pursuing it, and not merely accepting what
is offered.
In one emotional scene Mattie tells her teacher: “People
in books are good and noble and unselfish, and people aren’t
that way . . . and I feel, well . . . hornswoggled sometimes.
By Jane Austen and Charles Dickens and Louisa May Alcott. Why
do writers make things sugary when life isn’t that way?
. . . Why don’t they tell the truth? Why don’t they
tell how a pigpen looks after the sow’s eaten her children?
Or how it is for a girl when her baby won’t come out? Or
that cancer has a smell to it.”
Do you feel hornswoggled?
As a younger reader, I did often feel hornswoggled not just
by books but also by television and movies. I loved books and
movies, but rarely saw my life in what I was reading or watching.
I turned to them more for escape than validation. This was
the 60’s and 70’s – pre-Oprah, pre-Dr. Phil. Stuff
like depression, divorce, alcoholism, the death of a parent – it
wasn’t talked about. The grown-ups talked, usually in hushed
voices, sometimes in loud voices, but they didn’t talk
to you. There were some books, like Jane Wagner’s awesome
J.T., that made me see that stories could be about real kids
with real problems, but titles like Joey Pigza Swallowed the
Key weren’t around yet, nevermind Speak or Feed. I wish
they had been.
How does this view of literary honesty influence your writing?
This feeling of being hornswoggled has affected me by making
me into a literary schizophrenic. One minute I want hyper-honesty,
and the next minute I want relief from it. When I write for young
adult readers, I try to write very honestly. I try to validate
their experiences and feelings, and give them a glimpse into
the difficult and complicated world of adults which they will
shortly be entering. When I write for adults, I try to give them
a way out of that world, a temporary escape into a place that’s
simpler, better, more black and white than the real world.
In this novel you give us a murder mystery, a first romance
and historical fiction, all woven together with themes and several
subplots. How did you work out the structure for such a complex
novel, while keeping an eye on pacing, tension, and suspense?
Yes, A Northern Light is a mystery, a romance and historical
fiction. I’m a “more is more” kind of girl.
I like a certain level of richness in what I write and read.
I don’t enjoy skinny books. I wanted to create believable
human beings, and believable stories, and to do that – I
think – you need layers, complexity, and verisimilitude.
Also, there are two stories here – Mattie’s and
Grace’s. I wanted Mattie’s discovery of Grace’s
death to have the immediacy and impact of an event that occurs
in the present, but I also wanted to show the reader Mattie’s
home and family life, and the struggles she’s faced over
the months leading up to her summer at the Glenmore. Juxtaposing
the present with the recent past gave me a way to do justice
to each thread of the story, then finally join them. I also like
that this structure mirrors real life. Being human and prisoners
of time, we all must progress in a linear fashion from day to
day, week to week, but in our minds we don’t always live
in a linear way – we go back and forth in time constantly,
recalling episodes from the past or imagining the future.
What piqued your interest in history?
I caught the history bug in third grade when my mother took
me to see the movie, Mary, Queen of Scots starring Vanessa
Redgrave and Glenda Jackson. It was gorgeous and opulent and
exciting. I loved the dresses and the jewelry and the intrigue
and drama. In the movie Mary and Elizabeth meet, though in
fact they never did – but who cares? Every student of Tudor history wishes
they had. It was such a great moment – the two rulers and
adversaries sitting down to talk. I loved their power and strength
and beauty. I loved that they were “mere” women and
yet they ruled entire countries. I’m still fascinated by
history, though I prefer studying the lives of everyday people
more than those of monarchs. I truly believe that you can’t
know who you are and where you’re headed unless you understand
those who came before you – how they lived and thought
and struggled. What their expectations and hopes were.
Mattie’s world of 1906 Adirondacks feels very
real. Do you have any tips for writers on doing their historical
homework--researching historical detail and setting scene?
Research is a big, fat field day for me. I love doing it and
usually have to make myself stop. I usually start out with
one or two good comprehensive histories of the time. Barbara
Tuchman’s
The Proud Tower for an adult book I’m working on set in
the early 20th century, for example. And Simon Schama’s
Citizens, for my next young adult novel, set in late 18th century
Paris. Books like those give great overviews of the period
in question, and you can raid their bibliographies for more
specific titles. Then I try to get my hands on some good primary
sources.
For A Northern Light, I went to museums and historical societies
in the region and dug around amongst diaries, old newspapers,
and photos. I also read tax records, a transcript of Chester
Gillette’s trial, menus from the great camps – all
in aid of reconstructing a bygone world. I take copious notes,
but I also photocopy as much as I can to save time. I spend too
much time, and too much money, buying secondhand and out of print
books from Alibris. I don’t use everything I learn – one
can’t and shouldn’t – but it all goes into
the hopper in my head, and if I need something – to know
how a camp’s dining room looked, for example, or what kinds
of soup would be served in it – I can pull it out.
When you meld an historical event with a personal/family story
in fiction, how do you keep the invented story from being too
constrained by the truth of the actual event?
As far as melding the history with fiction…well, playing
with history is the novelist’s prerogative, for what is
history but imagining, really? It’s an incredibly subjective
and imperfect discipline. A bit of a fiction itself. We can
read official documents and personal documents, look at photos
or paintings, and try to stitch events, lives and eras back
together, but most histories are as much about the historian
as they are about the subject.
I enjoyed your use of dialogue and the relationships of your
distinct, well-drawn characters, especially the one between Mattie
and Weaver. How do you use dialogue to portray character?
Dialogue is extremely important to me. It’s a crucial
way of allowing the reader to know the character and it can
reveal more about a character than perhaps she or he consciously
intends. It also firmly situates a character in his or her
time or place.
How do you strike a balance between narrative and dialogue?
I have no formula for getting the balance right between dialogue
and narrative, just a feeling that if you use too little dialogue,
you’ve got travel writing, and if you use too much, you’ve
got a screenplay.
Your chapter titles—Somniferous, Wan, Fugacious—help
define Mattie as a lover of language and set us up, not only
for the chapters, but for the playful word duels between Mattie
and Weaver. I’m wondering to what extent you identify with
Mattie?
I do identify with Mattie. We share a love of language, books,
and the North Woods. John Milton frustrates the hell out of
both of us. I like to think I share her north country pragmatism.
We definitely share a sense of grief over what happened to
Grace Brown. In fact, Mattie was born because Grace’s story effected
me very deeply and I needed to have something good come from
her death. Mattie is a better person than I am, though. She’s
more patient, less selfish.
Where do you get your ideas generally, and in particular for
A Northern Light?
I don’t get my ideas, they get me. Something from the
past clutches at me and catches me. It’s usually a dark
thing. In my first novel for adults, the dark heart of London – the
East End – caught hold of me and wouldn’t let go.
It still won’t. In A Northern Light, it was the story of
Grace Brown. Her murder at the hands of her lover was something
I’d heard about growing up in that region, but it really
took hold of me when I was older and read Theodore Dreiser’s
An American Tragedy, several non-fiction accounts of the murder,
and most importantly – Grace’s remarkable letters.
They are fascinating and deeply moving. In them, you really hear
her voice. It’s an amazing, unsettling feeling – how
often does one get to hear from the victim after her death? I
was incredibly affected by her words – so much so that
I actually grieved for her. I couldn’t accept that this
lovely young life, and the tiny life inside her, had been so
brutally ended simply because they were inconvenient. My feelings
about her were very strong, so I finally had to deal with them
the way writers do – by writing about them.
A Northern Light vs. A Gathering Light: Your novel’s
British and American editions have different titles. Can you
tell us how the change came about, which you prefer and why?
I had to change the title to A Gathering Light in the UK to
avoid confusion with Philip Pullman’s book, Northern Lights.
(It’s The Golden Compass in the US.) It felt strange to
come up with a second title, but I do like both versions. I feel
A Gathering Light reflects Mattie’s growing enlightenment,
as well as suggests a certain momentum in her quest for independence.
You mention that you’ve always loved going to
the library. What is your favorite (or first) memory of the
library?
My first library memory is the sudden, stunning realization
that I could take the books with me. Any of them! All of them!
(Only a few at a time, of course…but still!) To this
day, I get downright shaky with greed when I go into a library,
and I have to stop myself from checking out more than I can
carry.
Was there a teacher or librarian who inspired you as a child?
I had many inspiring teachers as a child. And I was fortunate
to have great librarians in my life – Mrs. Klein, Mrs.
Loomis, Mrs. Sohovic, Miss Jones – kind, interested, thoughtful
people who would listen to what kind of books I liked and then
help me find them. They never patronized me or passed judgment
on my selections. They never told me what I should be reading.
That means the world to a kid – somebody to listen and
take an interest and encourage your interests.
What are your favorite children’s books and why?
I have so many favorite children’s books, I don’t
know where to start. I loved Grimm’s and Hans Christian
Anderson because those stories acknowledge the darkness, but
tell you that you can beat it. Lizbeth Zwerger’s illustrations
of some of these tales are the best I’ve ever seen. I have
almost all of her books. Stephen King’s early stuff is
great. Hardly children’s fare, but I read it anyway when
I was thirteen or so, and loved it for the same reasons I loved
the classic fairy tales.
I recently reread The Wind in the Willows and was
amazed – again.
Just finished Coraline – scary! Love stuff by Karen Cushman,
Troy by Adele Geras, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, and Feed
by M.T. Anderson. And will soon reread the awesome His Dark
Materials trilogy by Philp Pullman – which totally blows me away.
Recently bought an ex-library copy of J.T. from Alibris. I loved
the book so much as a kid, and can remember taking it out of
my elementary school library over and over again. A new copy
just wouldn’t do. I wanted it to look and smell just
like the library book I remember from my childhood.
What challenges you most as a writer?
The thing that challenges me most as a writer is…well,
writing. When it’s going well and the words are becoming
sentences and paragraphs and pages and chapters and everything’s
snapping and sparking, I feel like a master of the universe.
As if I could control the very elements. And when it’s
not – I feel incompetent, good-for-nothing, anxious, despaired.
It’s the most wonderful, horrible job in the world.
What can your fans expect next from you?
Right now I’m working on a sequel to my adult novel,
The Tea Rose, and a second young adult novel, still untitled,
which is set in Paris at the end of the 18th century.
And a question on behalf of our picturebook crowd: Without naming
names, can you tell us your inspiration for your picturebook,
HUMBLE PIE?
Humble Pie was inspired by the Brothers Grimm. It was definitely
not inspired by nephew Teo. Not one bit.
For more information about Jennifer Donnelly, check out her
website: www.jenniferdonnelly.com
**********************************
Karen Beil is an Albany-area children's book author, cofounder,
and former president of Children's Literature Connection. Her
books include FIRE IN THEIR EYES: WILDFIRES AND THE PEOPLE WHO
FIGHT THEM (Harcourt, mid-grade nonfiction); A CAKE ALL FOR ME
(Holiday House, picture book); and MOOVE OVER (Holiday House,
fall 2004).
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