Latest news with #LoveForms
Irish Times
15 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Claire Adam on childhood summers in Ireland: ‘My grandmother from Skibbereen lived to 108'
Tell us about your new novel, Love Forms It's about a mother searching for a daughter she gave up for adoption 40 years ago. The mother, Dawn, is from a middle-class respectable family in Trinidad: she gets pregnant by a tourist at Carnival at the age of 16, and she's shipped off to neighbouring Venezuela to have the baby in secret. It's similar to what must have happened a lot between Ireland and England, actually. And my main character, Dawn, she stays with Catholic nuns in Venezuela – but they're nice nuns! In the Caribbean, religious groups function as unofficial social support networks, since governmental services tend to be pretty thin. You were born in Trinidad to a father from Port of Spain and a mother from Cork, both doctors. Did you grow up with a sense of a dual identity? In Trinidad, we used to see my dad's family every Sunday, and we took turns to host. One week, they'd come to us in the capital city of Port of Spain, and my mother would cook a roast lunch with Yorkshire puddings. The next week, we'd drive to my uncle's house in the hills, where we'd eat ordinary Trinidadian food – roti, curry, macaroni pie, stew chicken. I liked both equally! There's a bit of an Irish presence in Trinidad. My mum had special green napkins which came out every year for her St Patrick's Day lunch. And she made a stack of profiteroles, which had to stay in the freezer until the last minute so that the cream and chocolate wouldn't melt in the heat. We'd come back from school to find all the Irish ladies slightly boozed up and laughing their heads off. My mother would want me to reiterate that this only happened once a year. I feel really at home in both Ireland and Trinidad, and my accent changes to fit as soon as my feet touch the ground! READ MORE What or who made you want to be a writer? Your mother was a bit of a natural scientist who taught you to observe things closely? In Trinidad, we were a bit of a Durrell-type family, with caterpillars and beetles in jars, all around the house. She did loads of really precise botanical drawings of plants, really close, careful study. She's still a working artist – check her out on Instagram. For me the part that stuck was that I know what everything is called in Trinidad! I would be a good nature tour guide. In contrast, I don't know what anything is called in England. I can pick out a few species of tree, but everything else is a mystery. I can't figure out how to grow anything in pots at all – I still can't get used to the temperate climate, with four seasons. I think I always had an idea that I would write one day. It was like a seed I'd tucked away that waited for many years until the conditions were right for it to grow. I had my first child (in my early 30s) and it was like the sudden awareness of my own mortality took hold of me, and I started working like a woman possessed! It's something to do with a fascination with the nature of language. Language as this inexhaustible material, free to use by all, no matter how rich or poor, or where in the world we start from. 'To do all that, and with just words!' Arthur Miller's son said that to him, after seeing or reading one of the plays. Those words pretty much sum it up for me too. You did an MA in creative and life writing at Goldsmiths, London, where you now live. What was the key lesson? Exchanging work with peers and hearing their feedback is really valuable. You learn to see your work more objectively. What are your memories of summers in Ireland and the year you spent here as a teenager? Those summers in Ireland were a highlight of our childhoods. We flew over from Trinidad every three years, like migrating birds, and spent the summer at my grandmother's house near Skibbereen. It was all so exciting. We required thick woollen sweaters – even in July and August, Ireland seemed cold to us, coming from the tropics. We were very taken with strawberries and raspberries, blackberries, even apples – we thought they only existed in books! I remember helping build a big haystack, someone making jam, my sister and I trying to muster the courage to get into the freezing cold lake. Great times. That grandmother lived to 108. We're lucky that her house is still in the family – we all love visiting when we can. My daughter will be over this summer with her friends. And then I came back to live in Cork for a year when I was in my 20s. I worked for a company owned by my uncle and aunts at the time. I loved Cork, and I had a good wander around Ireland during that year, and during the many other summers I've been back. Describe your debut, Golden Child , which won the Desmond Elliott and McKitterick Prizes It's about a family with twin sons in rural Trinidad. The father's trying to do his best for his family but he's an uneducated man of very humble means, in an effectively lawless society. When one of his sons goes missing, he finds himself totally out of his depth and he's faced with a terrible dilemma. It is said to capture Trinidad perfectly. Could you give a sense of the island in a few words? In rainy season, it's very lush and green – a different green than in Ireland. There's a different quality of sunlight in the tropics, blinding at midday. Any unkept land (what we call 'bush') grows fast and uncontrollably. The crazy mix of religions and ethnicities get along together much better than you might expect. Law enforcement doesn't appear to be a priority, and the fact that the society functions as well as it does, is because the vast majority of citizens are really decent people. Both novels, although very different, involve a parent searching for a lost child By strange coincidence, yes! I have no explanation for this. Someone I know commented that while Golden Child is about fathers and sons, Love Forms is about mothers and daughters. It's being developed for film by Sarah Jessica Parker's company? The option was bought by a small production company in LA (MA Productions), and we're all so thrilled that SJP's Pretty Matches Productions is on board as well. Film stuff moves slowly, there are a zillion obstacles, and her supporting the project is fantastic. William Trevor. Photograph: Eric Luke You're a fan of William Trevor and Claire Keegan? Well, years ago now, after I read Foster, I immediately googled Claire Keegan, and I could hardly believe my luck when I saw that she runs writing workshops. I've been to two now, and I've been evangelical ever since. She's a fabulous and generous teacher, as so many of her other students will eagerly attest. I adore William Trevor's stories, too. Back in the good old days I spent a summer hitchhiking around Ireland and I'm almost sure he gave me a lift one time in west Cork. He had a quiet manner, was very reserved about himself, but he listened to me very intently as I blabbered on. I said I wanted to be a writer and he smiled a kind of regretful, knowing smile, and told me the important thing was to just keep at it. Which projects are you working on? I'm messing around with a few ideas. And working on a screenplay set in Trinidad with a couple of friends – it's nice to do something sociable for a change! Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage? Maybe I'll try to visit Tolstoy's house one day. What is the best writing advice you have heard? From Flannery O'Connor: that the meaning of fiction is not abstract meaning but experienced meaning. Who do you admire the most? My endlessly patient husband is a pretty good guy! You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish? I will abolish fines for accidentally stopping in the yellow cross-hatched area at intersections. All parking throughout London will be free forevermore! Brian Cox as Logan Roy, and Jeremy Strong as his son Kendall, in series one of Succession. Photograph: Peter Kramer/HBO Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend? I've watched all four seasons of Succession multiple times and I am not ashamed. It's that good. #TeamKendall. I hope people are reading Sakina's Kiss by Vivek Shanbhag. He's an outstanding writer and deserves many readers. I'm looking forward to watching Mountainhead, Jesse Armstrong's new film. Which public event affected you most? Well, I was living in Cork when Diana died. I was in a flat-share near French's Quay and I remember the three of us in the flat were speechless all morning, watching the news loop through the same coverage for hours. The most remarkable place you have visited? I visited my sister in Montreal in the winter once, 30 years ago, and I still haven't got over how cold it was there. I felt like my eyeballs froze! Your most treasured possession? Wherever I go, I travel with our coffee pot. It's a basic Italian moka, the one that goes on the stove top. The handle has fallen off and we've replaced the inside bits dozens of times, but as it's been used numerous times a day for maybe a decade, the coffee tastes really good. I can't do without it. What is the most beautiful book that you own? Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson. Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party? I'm probably going off on a tangent, but I'd worry about how all the egos in one room would make it hard work! For a (hopefully) pleasant dinner party where I could just listen and absorb, I'd invite Abdulrazak Gurnah, JM Coetzee and Rohinton Mistry. (By the way, if they see this and do actually fancy dinner, email me!) The best and worst things about where you live? There are great green spaces all around London – nice big parks. The never-ending roadworks are the worst thing – unfortunately I drive quite a lot and they're truly the bane of my existence. What is your favourite quotation? 'Nothing is far, and nothing is near, if one desires. It brought Columbus across the sea in a little boat.' That's Willa Cather, The Song of the Lark . A book to make me laugh? My Favourite Mistake by Marian Keyes – my mother just lent it to me. A book that might move me to tears? Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. Love Forms is published by Faber & Faber
Spectator
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Spectator
The secret child: Love Forms, by Claire Adam, reviewed
Claire Adam's compelling first novel Golden Child won the 2009 Desmond Elliot Prize and was also picked as one of the BBC's '100 Novels that Shaped Our World'. It told the story of contrasting twins in Trinidad – one an academic high-flyer, the other a misfit. When the latter is kidnapped, the father must act to rescue the son he has never quite understood. Adam has followed this with an ostensibly quieter novel about a Trinidadian woman called Dawn, divorced with two adult sons, who lives in south London and works for an estate agent, after abandoning her medical career. She decides to search for the baby girl she gave up for adoption more than 40 years earlier, having got pregnant by a tourist at Carnival, aged 16. 'The sex was unremarkable at best – it didn't take long. It was painful at first, then boring, then embarrassing.' Adam is a thoughtful writer and this is a soulful, unflashy narrative. Dawn was sent by her family to Venezuela to have the baby in secret, and after the event none of her relatives would discuss the matter with her. When she gives birth to her first son with her husband, he only finds out that she has previously had a child from reading her medical notes. She describes her own childhood as 'perfect'. The rupture only occurred when she was sent away. She is nonetheless keen to explain what the nuns, to whom she entrusted the baby for adoption, were like: I feel I should clarify about the nuns. When you say 'nuns' nowadays, people think of evil, cruel women who starve girls and make them scrub floors. Caribbean nuns aren't like that. For the most part they're cheerful women, busy, active. In Golden Child, the nightly news bulletins were full of stories of fatalities and domestic murders. In Love Forms, violence is hinted at when it is acknowledged that properties in Trinidad need to be gated for security. There is also a brief, horrifying scene in a morgue, which Dawn's brother Warren takes her to in an attempt to warn her that their position of comfort and safety is more precarious than it looks. Love Forms does not have the same propulsive quality as the kidnap narrative of Golden Child, but it's a reflective novel that sensitively explores love and motherhood.
The Guardian
12-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Love Forms by Claire Adam review – the power of a mother's loss
Claire Adam's 2019 novel Golden Child was her debut, but it felt like the work of a master. It was tender, ravishing, shattering – you believed every word of it. The book had an effortless narrative authority that most first-time novelists would kill for. Love Forms is every bit as alive and convincing, and returns us to Trinidad, with its potent fizz of colour, heat and political instability. But unlike the earlier book, it's also set partly in south London – the writer's own home turf – and has a mother, rather than a father, at its heart. Dawn, our 'white, young, rich' narrator, is the youngest child of a well-known Trinidadian fruit juice dynasty. At 16, after a brief encounter with a tourist at carnival in Trinidad, she finds herself pregnant. Petrified of the stigma, her otherwise caring parents make a 'pact' never to speak of it again, dispatching her, under cover of darkness, on a terrifying and chillingly evoked boat trip to Venezuela. Here she spends four months with nuns who deliver her baby – a girl she never sees again – then is returned to Trinidad to resume her schooling as if nothing has happened. But something has happened. And 40 years later, now an ex-GP living in London, divorced with two grown-up sons, Dawn is still bereft, still searching. Not just for her daughter but, because her memories of her time in Venezuela are so cloaked in shame and secrecy, for what feels like a missing part of herself. Her family kept to their pact and the episode has never again been mentioned, but for Dawn the questions have only grown more pressing with time. What part of Venezuela was she sent to? Who exactly were the nuns? Most of all, who was that traumatised teenage girl who gave up her baby so easily? After years of emotionally exhausting research – letter writing, internet forums, DNA tests – she's still no closer to the truth. And then one night a young woman in Italy gets in touch. So many of her details seem to fit. Could this be Dawn's long-lost baby? It's a situation rich with logistical and emotional possibilities, all of which Adam mines with subtlety and finesse. What could all too easily have been a straightforward case of will-she-won't-she find her long-lost child is somehow both more mundane and more unsettling. Would Dawn have had a better life if she'd kept her baby? In many ways, probably not: she was able to go to medical school and make a career for herself. Yet still the terrible, unspoken loss has left its mark on every member of the family: not just her parents, but her older brothers, her somewhat disengaged ex-husband and her sons, whose understandable priority is to protect her from further hurt. It's her parents who, believing they were acting in her best interests, are most infuriated by Dawn's apparent inability to hold on to the good life she's made for herself. 'The man had enough!' her mother explodes in frustration when, after years of putting the search before everything else, her daughter's marriage breaks down. All they ever wanted was for her to have done well despite her 'trouble' – her mother's elation at noting, on a visit to the marital home in leafy Wandsworth, that she has a cooker with eight rings, is a lovely touch. Still, Dawn's abiding sense of loss, the instinctive feeling of her daughter's absence, which 'always arrived somewhere in my abdomen, the sudden shock, like remembering laundry left out in the rain or children not picked up from school', is something whose power cannot be overestimated. Adam is great on the unsaid, the half-said, and the way feelings will unravel and morph over the years. 'Mothers will fight off lions,' Dawn tells her father in a rare, late moment of reckoning. 'Actually it was you I should have been fighting … you were the lion. I didn't realise it back then.' It's credit to this novel's ability to wrongfoot you that at this moment you find yourself feeling a flicker of sympathy for her father. And this sense of uncertainty and unease continues to the end. The final pages, which unfold at the family's beach house on Tobago, are as gripping as any thriller, and the ending, when it comes, feels as right as it is devastating. Love Forms by Claire Adam is published by Faber (£16.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply
