Thursday night at the Irish Room in Gasson Hall, listeners were treated to a lecture and reading by Colm Tóibín, one of the most recent additions to Ireland's long line of literary geniuses. The celebrated author of The Master related his philosophy on the craft of writing, and he read from his new collection of short stories, Mothers and Sons, in an event titled "The Reverse of the Picture: Finding Fiction in Fact," co-sponsored by the Lowell Humanities Series and the Irish studies department.
In addition to The Master and Mothers and Sons, Tóibín has written four other acclaimed novels, a play, and three nonfiction books. He is a member of the Aosdána, the exclusive Irish organization for people who have achieved distinction in the arts.
Tóibín first reminded the audience of the state of current affairs in Ireland. While tensions between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland remain, they have been tempered by the Celtic Tiger - the country's explosive economic success in the last 15 years. Today, Ireland surpasses Great Britain and rivals the United States in per capita income.
Too often, Tóibín said, those same current events can get in the way of a good story. "[Among writers] there's this idea that whatever happens on the six o'clock news must be accounted for." In America, for example, authors feel a duty to refer to the events of Sept. 11, he said.
For this reason, Tóibín was often asked why he was writing about the life of Henry James, the brilliant and troubled 19th-century American novelist. The Master is a biographical novel about James, and won the Los Angeles Times Novel of the Year award.
In response to those questions, Tóibín would say, "You write what comes to you … If you even begin dealing with a character, you must deal with the times, and with the times, there is always a political context."
Among the lessons Tóibín learned from his examination of James was to seek out richer, less obvious stories. Rather than writing a "Red Badge of Courage-type story," James wrote about "the reverse side of the picture - the people who stayed home from the war," Tóibín said.
"You don't need a writer to tell you what it feels like to be a priest defrocked for sexual abuse - a photographer or a journalist can do that. But what was it like for his mother?" said Tóibín, giving another example of the "reverse side of the picture." In fact, that very situation frames one of the short stories in Mothers and Sons.
Tóibín then delved into his own writing style, which is also influenced by James'. In telling a story, he explained, what's left unsaid is often even more significant than what is said.
Here, he drew an analogy to the art of Howard Hodgkin, the British abstract painter. "Hodgkin said that texture, shape, color, shading … all of it is suggestive - the eye will fill it in. It's the same idea for a writer. No more emotion is needed."
"Leave the conversation alone, make it ordinary. Leave the most important thing unsaid," said Tóibín.
Tóibín then began to read a selection from his bestselling book, Mothers and Sons. The book consists of nine fictional stories illustrating the intense bond between a mother and her adult son. All except one take place in modern Ireland; "A Long Winter" takes place in Spain, where Tóibín spent three years after graduating college.
Tóibín's voice took on new vigor as he read from his work. His prose is simple and poetic, allowing the story to tell itself. Indeed, Tóibín believes, storytelling seems to be a lost art in "the great waters of modernism."








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