So It Is: a Critical-Creative Reimagining of the Roie of Women in the Troubies Narrative Liam Murray Bell
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So It Is: a critical-creative reimagining of the roie of women in the Troubies narrative Liam Murray Bell Submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Creative Writing School of English and Languages University of Surrey July 2012 © Liam Murray Bell 2012 ProQuest N um ber: 27557506 All rights reserved INFORMATION TO ALL USERS The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. In the unlikely event that the author did not send a com plete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion. uest P roQ uest 27557506 Published by ProQuest LLO (2019). Copyright of the Dissertation is held by the Author. All rights reserved. This work is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code Microform Edition © ProQuest LLC. ProQuest LLC. 789 East Eisenhower Parkway P.Q. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, Ml 48106- 1346 "This thesis and the work to which it refers are the results of my own efforts. Any ideas, data, images or text resulting from the work of others (whether published or unpublished) are fully identified as such within the work and attributed to their originator in the text, bibliography or in footnotes. This thesis has not been submitted in whole or in part for any other academic degree or professional qualification. I agree that the University has the right to submit my work to the plagiarism detection service TurnitinUK for originality checks. Whether or not drafts have been so- assessed, the University reserves the right to require an electronic version of the final document (as submitted) for assessment as above. " Liam Murray Bell 31"* July 2012 Abstract During the Troubles period, texts produced In, or with a focus on, Northern Ireland have often been necessarily concerned with the violence of the Troubles, but this thesis will argue that there Is a paucity of texts that Investigate the role of women In the conflict. Approaching this problem as a Creative Writing doctorate, this project contends that a reimagining of the role of women In the Troubles narrative can be achieved through researching and writing a novel. So It Is. Following the National Association of Writers In Education’s benchmark statement. In which It was stated that Creative Writing research comprises “both research into content and research into form” {HA\NE, 2008, emphasis In original), the thesis will Investigate content by defining and Interrogating the Troubles narrative, as formed up to this point, and the role of women In those narratives, before discussing form through the narrative structures and strategies employed In the writing of the creative text. So It Is. This research Into both content and form supports the main focus of the critical-creative project: the novel. So It Is, which was published on 14**^ June 2012 by Myriad Editions. Described by The Financial Times as a “confident debut novel” So It Is Invites us to “speculate on the link between two female characters” (Evans, 2012), with the narrative being split Into a comlng-of-age story focused on a young female protagonist, Aolfe Brennan, growing up In Belfast and a thriller narrative centred on a female paramilitary, Cassle. Presenting the process and context of writing, through the critical exegesis, and the creative text, this Creative Writing thesis comprises a cohesive practice-based doctorate that relmaglnes the role of women In the Troubles narrative. Ill Table of Contents Creative Component So It Is by Liam Murray Bell page 1 - 329 Critical Component Introduction oaae 330 - 339 I Research Statement . 330 II Creative Genesis 330 ill Critical Genesis 332 iv The Troubles Narrative 333 V Women in the Troubles Narrative 335 vi Narrative Structures and Techniques 336 vii Introductory Conclusions 338 1. The Troubles Narrative page 340 - 364 1.1 Methodology 340 1.2 The Canon: Heaney, Friel and MacLaverty 342 1.3 Nationalist V Unionist 350 1.4 The Thriller 356 1.5 Use of Historical Detail 359 1.6 Conclusion 363 2. Women in the Troubles Narrative oaoe 365 - 389 2.1 Methodology 365 2.2 Nationalist Discourses of the Symbolic Woman 368 2.3 Social and Material Constraints 371 2.4 Motifs: Hair, Milk, and Blood 377 2.5 Women in Violence 383 2.6 Conclusion 387 IV 3. Narrative Structures and Technigues page 3 9 0 - 409 3.1 Methodology 390 3.2 Aoife Narrative 391 3.3 Cassie Narrative 395 3.4 Form and Content 398 3.5 Forming Resistance 402 3.6 Two Roads Converge 405 3.7 Conclusion 408 4. 'Conclusion page 4 1 0 - 420 4.1 Research Aims and Objectives 410 4.2 Editing and the Publication Process 412 4.3 Reviews and Reflections 415 4.4 Concluding Remarks 418 Appendices page 421 -430 Bibliography page 431 -438 Acknowledgements This thesis was written with financial support from a studentship awarded by the School of English and Languages at the University of Surrey and with academic support from my supervisors: Dr Paul Vlitos, Dr Fiona Doloughan and Dr Churnjeet Mahn. My thanks also to the postgraduate community within the School, especially Gavin Goodwin and Amanda Finelli with whom I shared an office and teaching responsibilities. The creative com ponent owes a debt of gratitude to the team at Myriad Editions: Candida Lacey, Adrian Weston, Corinne Pearlman, Emma Dowson, Anthony Grech-Cumbo, Linda McQueen, Dawn Sackett and, especially, my editor Vicky Blunden. Finally, thank you to my family and my wife, Orla. VI BOOK I I wait for Whitey in the Regal Bar, sipping at a tonic water. Typical Loyalist hole, the Regal is, with portraits o f the Queen and Noinnan Whiteside side-by-side on the walls. Usual crowd in too: stubbled heads, rolled necks, beer guts, tattoos. It takes two hours for Whitey to anive, with his friends, and take the comer table. They Te all nudges and winks, seeing the ride at the bar with the short skirt. He's not sure whether to take it serious or treat it all as a great geg. ‘Can I buy you your next one? ’ he asks, as he approaches the bar. ‘Wouldyou be having one with me? ’ turning to him then so as my knees brush against him. He nods and we go to a table. Around the comer, out o f sight. I play with his hair and pluck his shirt away from the nape o f his neck. He has a tattoo there: a single screw. Inked so as you can see the detail o f the thread. I ask him about it, even though I know rightly. His dad was a prison guard, died three years ago, in ‘93. I ask him about his job, even though I know that too. He's an RUG recruit, fresh out o f school. I ’ve done my homework. He can tell me nothing that I haven’t already found out. I ’ve scouted out the whole area. A man walking about around here with a sports bag over his shoulder would be pulled to the side. Not me, though. A woman’s inconspicuous. Even months after, when someone lands up in hospital, they never suspect the ginger-haired girl who sells jewellery door-to-door. Why would they? For five months I ’ve been calling at Whitey’s house, selling his mother earrings and necklaces. His photo sits on her mantle beside a cracked Charles and Diana wedding plate. I listen to her pi'oud stories o f her son. Over tea. Terrible thing, a mother’s love. ‘Get that pint down you and we’ll get you a real drink, eh? ’ I says to him. Then I swallow the rest o f my own. Leaning over I pr^ess rny lips against his. Count the seconds - one, two, three. H e’ll be my third. Only two I ’ve done before this one. Two in just under two yearns. Plenty o f time between. Healing time. Whitey’s perfect. Eager enough that h eil not think twice before, green enough that he’ll think twice about telling anyone after. As I stand up, I lift my handbag and the empty miniature tonic bottle. ‘Wait there a minute, ’ I say and make my way to the ladies. Aoife’s mammy started to have problems with her mouth in the weeks after Eamonn Kelly was shot by the Brits. It started as a tingle, she told the doctor, hke a cold sore forming at the comer of her lip, then it began to scour at her gums as though she was teething. It was when it started to bum, though, like taking a gulp of scalding tea and swilling it around; when it began to feel like the inside of her mouth and throat were nothing more than a raw and bleeding flesh wound; it was only then that Cathy Brennan phoned for the doctor. In those weeks, as the pain intensified, she’d call Aoife or Damien over to her with a wee wave of the hand and reach into her apron pocket for a five-penny piece. Tucking it into Aoife’s school pinafore or into the tom remnants of Damien’s shirt pocket, she’d send one or the other scampering down to the street to McGrath’s on the comer to buy an ice-pop. All different colours they were. Aoife liked the purple ones best, while Damien liked the green. Neither of them would ever even think to buy the orange ones. They would race home and give it to their mammy, who would clamp it, unopened, between her thin lips.