Interview with Miranda

What are some of your earliest memories of reading?

The first book I read on my own was The Wishing Chair Again by Enid Blyton. I have a powerful recollection of the exquisite thrill I felt when I realised I had unlocked the secret code – the words suddenly and almost magically alive, unfurling a story inside my head. My early memories of reading are of the emotional charge, of a deep, powerful yearning . .  . I longed to become the protagonists, to inhabit the world of the stories, to have adventures and companions and this sharper, more intensely-lived life. I would often have to wedge myself between the bed and the wall, or a crawl-space under the stairs, the branches of a tree when I read, as if I needed somehow to make sure my body was stuck fast in case my imagination flew too high and took me with it and I would not be able (or maybe even willing..?) to find my way back.

Is there a book that dramatically changed your view on the world?

If This Is A Man. . .  by Primo Levi. I read it first in my late teens and again in my early twenties – in the original Italian, and in English. It lodged in me as this wondrous shard of the most deeply human writing I had yet encountered. Levi’s quiet, compassionate intelligence shone through this dark book and transformed the heavy memories of the concentration camps into a work that was transformative for me. His writing showed me the power of the disposition of the writer’s gaze on the world; a horrific tale told with mildness, with glimmers of beauty, with philosophical enquiry – the attitudes of a man in full possession of his human credentials despite the dehumanising circumstances – resulted in a book that, I think, is like no other. His open-ended question, ‘if this is a man. . .’ is one I hold in my mind, my heart, every time I write a book.

What Stella listed book from the last 14 years do you think everyone should read?

Look What You Made Me Do by Jess Hill. ‘Brave’ is overused to describe books written about uncomfortable subjects, but Jess Hill’s book deserves a standing ovation for the clear-sighted courage with which it examines domestic abuse. It is brilliantly written and researched, terrifying, and extremely necessary. (Also, I’m currently reading Hannah Kent’s Burial Rights which I am absolutely loving.)

What’s a quote about either your book or the role of literature in shaping culture?

My book is a slim shard of resistance sandwiched between the prettiest of covers – full of tender fury at injustice, of refusal to accept mechanistic paradigms as the meaning of life, tilting at a world out of balance. . . it’s funny, it’s dark, it’s a love story.

What do you hope readers take away from your book? 

I never wish to be didactic. . . perhaps I would hope that the quality of the reader’s attention shifts, that their thoughts soften, their gaze becomes porous enough to consider other ways of seeing, and of being in the world; perhaps the book might awaken the curiosity to vibrate differently in the world, to refuse to participate in broken systems. The reader might feel less alone in their discomfort with paradigms that no longer serve them and perhaps never did. . . they might see a means of a resistance of their own in Winona’s quiet choices. . . I would hope the work might remind readers that beauty, truth, and goodness  – love too – still matter.  It’s all that ever did.

How are you celebrating being shortlisted? 

I’m smiling on the inside! Honestly, I think it’s still sinking in…. every now and then I stop and consider the news and allow myself to acknowledge that the book (and Winona) has connected powerfully with other humans and this gives me great joy. That quest for connection lies at the heart of why I write, so making the shortlist feels like I am carrying some small evidence of invisible bonds forged like a jewel in my pocket as I go about my day. It feels very special.