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Irish Times
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Thirst Trap by Gráinne O'Hare: For fans of well-written absolute riots
Thirst Trap Author : Grainne O'Hare ISBN-13 : 978-1035046195 Publisher : Picador Guideline Price : £16.99 Even in the age of conglomeration – when the average novel features merely as an insignificant line item on the balance sheet of a titanic multinational – publishing remains a noble enterprise. Also, happily, an amusing one. Amusement derives from the fact that publishers have absolutely no idea what people want to read until all at once a particular book sells in droves – at which point commissioning editors scramble to find lots of books just like it, turning the bookshop shelves into a slightly uncanny parade of homogeneous entities, like Andy Warhol's duplicated soup cans. If you liked that, try this! Hence all those YA cover versions of The Hunger Games (The Scorch Trials?); hence David Baldacci's series of thrillers about John Puller, who is in no way a wholly saturated derivative of Lee Child 's Jack Reacher; and so on, ad infinitum. This is a roundabout way of saying that Gráinne O'Hare's debut novel, Thirst Trap, is being insistently marketed in such a way as to appeal to fans of Sally Rooney , Eliza Clark , Naoise Dolan et al. The Dolan readership in particular has been micro-targeted, as they say in marketing seminars: Thirst Trap's cover design is a dead ringer for the cover of Exciting Times ; the jacket copy mentions 'the very best and the very worst', though not the most exciting, 'of times'. READ MORE The problem with all of this isn't that it's cynical. (Actually, like all marketing, it's sort of ingenuous, in that it hopes that people can be persuaded by the straightforward invocation of things that they already like.) The problem is that it tends to efface the individuality of a given novel – which only really matters, of course, when a given novel has some individuality to speak of. Which is to say that while Thirst Trap does share certain qualities with Exciting Times (a generational ambience, a matter-of-fact attitude to queerness, an interest in the between-state of being in your 20s), it is the work of a writer with a distinctive sensibility and with gifts and perceptions of her own. O'Hare has been publishing short fiction in various Irish and UK venues over the last couple of years. A young Belfast writer who now lives in England (where she is pursuing a PhD in 18th-century women's life writing), she has written a novel about what it's like to be a young woman in contemporary Belfast. It's an absolute riot – funny, compassionate, observant and wise, the work of a real writer. A 'thirst trap', for my non-Generation Z (or non-terminally-online) readers, is a sexy picture of oneself, posted online in order to attract attention. In O'Hare's sly usage, however, it might also refer to the experience of being in your late 20s in a contemporary western country, when the culture around you is largely oriented towards 'the sesh' – a world in which crippling hangovers are taken for granted, in which life happens, if it happens at all, in pubs and clubs, and in which a sort of tacit alcoholism underwrites, and undermines, the quest for a meaningful life. O'Hare's present-tense narrative follows three characters, all of them about to hit 30. Maggie, a legal secretary, is gay; she is being strung along by Cate, who calls Maggie when she's drunk. Roise, who works in a 'corporate hellscape', is straight, and fancies Adam, her 'superior' at the bland office where she works. Harley is bisexual, works in a hotel, and pursues self-destruction, or self-obliteration, via cocaine and one-night stands. [ Sally Rooney: 'I enjoy writing about men ... the dangerous charisma of the oppressor class' Opens in new window ] This all sounds very standard-issue but O'Hare attends so closely, so wittily, and so empathetically to every single one of these characters that the events of their lives assume the seismic importance of, precisely, events in life. There is no cynicism or amateurism here – only a nuanced and non-judgmental engagement with character that is the essence of the best fiction. The three women all share a tumbledown rented house. The fourth member of their quartet, Lydia, has been killed in a car crash a year before the action of the novel begins, and lingers as a shaping presence in their lives. Early in the novel, Maggie practises running up and down the stairs of the rented house, but stops when she remembers 'there's rot below'. The rot, of course, is below these young women's lives; the house might be the house of capitalism, though the book doesn't make a big deal of the suggestion – it isn't that sort of novel. It is, rather, the sort of book that involves you skilfully in the thoughts and feelings of persuasive characters. It bounces along, cracking jokes, scarcely putting a foot wrong, except in the (slightly too sentimental) epilogue. It is enormously impressive and fun. As the marketing department might say: if you like good books, try this. Kevin Power is associate professor of literary practice in the School of English, Trinity College Dublin
The Hindu
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
‘I try not to stay away from tropes because they do exist': queer author Naoise Dolan
Irish novelist Naoise Dolan is often hailed as a master chronicler of modern-day relationships. Her debut novel Exciting Times was longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2021. And her latest, The Happy Couple — a perspective-driven story about two queer individuals who decide to go in for a heterosexual union — was on the longlist of the 2024 Polari Book Prize, an award that celebrates LGBTQIA+ writers' works published in the U.K. In an email conversation, Dolan shares why her fiction resonates with the current generation and what sort of queer representation appeals to her. Edited excerpts: Q: Your debut novel explored nuances, anxieties, and the messiness of modern-day relationships, and your latest, 'The Happy Couple', does the same. What draws you to this theme? A: I can't think of any good novel that isn't ultimately about relationships of some kind. Even when we write about one person grappling with some abstract non-human element, like war or addiction, we end up anthropomorphising the situation. We frame it as a friend or enemy, attribute it motives and inner thoughts. Even the most seemingly isolated character will forge a relationship with someone or the other. So, relationships are a given. As to why they're modern, it's simply that I didn't see a compelling reason to set either novel in the past. My default assumption is that I should write about the present, though that's not to say I'd rule out something historical if I saw good grounds to do it. (Indeed, I'm doing it right now with my next novel.) Q: In 'The Happy Couple', you critique heteronormativity via the protagonists' decision to get married after failed queer relationships. Was it deliberate, or did it happen organically as the story progressed? A: It just happened as the story progressed. I never want to teach my reader any lesson, or use my fiction as a direct funnel for my political views. It's more that the milieu of the novel is itself very familiar with these ideas and terms, so it would've been unnecessarily coy to pretend these people don't use words like 'heteronormative' or think about the associated concepts. But thinking doesn't necessarily translate into doing. In their life choices, these people are — for the most part — lazy. I didn't want to critique that, necessarily, just observe it. But when you observe something in enough detail, sometimes it ends up critiquing itself. Q: When crafting your characters, what are you mindful about — the tropes you stay away from, and the risks you willingly take? A: I try not to stay away from tropes because most of these people do actually exist, and I don't want to imply they're somehow dirty. Is it a problem when straight people write a novel where one gay character speaks effeminately and is obsessed with Drag Race? Yes, obviously it is. But do gay men like that exist? Yes, including several of my closest friends. Those men deserve to see themselves in books, not be dismissed as an embarrassment to the community. Is it a stereotype that lesbians are obsessed with cats? For sure, but half the women I've dated own one, and the other half curse their landlord that they can't. So, I try to think of representation not restrictively but expansively. Instead of shying away from writing a character who does something that gay people are stereotyped as doing, I just ensure there are enough other queer characters so that the entire community isn't being represented by this one person. Q: What are you working on next? A: I'm editing my third novel. It's about the rise and fall of an Irish family. It starts in the 1950s, charts the extremely mad Celtic Tiger era in the 1990s and early 2000s, and goes up to the present day. It has been fun working with a more expansive time scale. The interviewer is a Delhi-based queer writer and cultural critic. Instagram/X: @writerly_life
The National
12-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The National
Enter the world of the Miu Miu Literary Club
Down a quiet side street behind Milan's illustrious Teatro alla Scala sits the Circolo Filologico. As is so often the case in this city, an austere facade conceals a cultural gem. The Circolo, Milan's oldest linguistic and literary association, is devoted to the study of global languages and civilisations. Recently, it played host to a quietly remarkable gathering. For two days in April, the space became home to the Miu Miu Literary Club – an ongoing initiative by the Italian fashion house exploring womanhood, learning and literary legacy. Coinciding with the annual design event Salone del Mobile, the programme – titled A Woman's Education – drew crowds that stretched around the block. In an age of buzzy brand activations and fleeting fashion moments, the Literary Club felt like a breath of fresh air. Inside the library's book-lined rooms – a comforting throwback to another era – two panel discussions unfolded, including Simone de Beauvoir: The Power of Girlhood. The panels explored how girlhood matures into womanhood, how autonomy is shaped and how desire is expressed. The conversations were as powerful as they were intimate, featuring an eclectic line-up that included Irish novelist Naoise Dolan, American writers Sarah Manguso and Lauren Elkin, plus Booker Prize winner Geetanjali Shree. Co-chaired by British curator and writer Lou Stoppard and American spoken-word artist Kai-Isaiah Jamal, the discussions were accompanied by readings by Congolese-Italian model Cindy Bruna and actress Millie Brady, adding a lyrical cadence to the proceedings. Elsewhere, in a larger space where a digital ticker tape broadcast 'Miu Miu Literary Club' in an endless loop, performances by Lauren Duffus and Joy Crookes played to a standing-room-only crowd. An open-door policy stood in welcome contrast to the exclusivity typically associated with fashion and design weeks. This wasn't an event designed for the few – it felt democratic and elegantly subversive. For Miuccia Prada, the house's founder and philosophical heart, the initiative is a natural extension of a decades-long career steeped in cultural commentary. Since founding Miu Miu in 1993 – named for her childhood nickname – Prada has imbued the brand with intellectual nuance and instinctive cool, consistently weaving in references to art, literature and ideology. Her reverence for knowledge was clear in a digitally streamed conversation in 2020, marking the first co-designed collection with Raf Simons, where she urged the audience to 'study, study, study'. This year's Literary Club centred on two influential yet contrasting feminist voices: Simone de Beauvoir, the French existentialist, whose The Inseparables explores the fragile reality of female friendship, as well as Japanese author Fumiko Enchi, whose work, The Waiting Years, delves into the quiet constraints placed on women through tradition and marriage. Of the choice of authors, Prada explained they were selected for their willingness to challenge the status quo and illuminate how precious learning remains. 'We try to raise awareness on the issue of women's education today. How do we teach young girls concepts such as self-determination? How do we teach them to become the independent women of the future?' The idea of a luxury fashion house sponsoring such a discussion is not without irony, and the panel did not shy away from that. Italian author Veronica Raimo spoke candidly of her own conflicting feelings – of squatting as a student while reading Albert Camus, and now being invited to speak under the auspices of a high-fashion brand. Her inclusion – critical, authentic – spoke volumes. And perhaps that's the point. As Sarah Manguso observed, 'Miu Miu took two radical feminist novels and made them the centrepiece of a Milan Design Week party.' A feat that, in lesser hands, might have felt like a sales ploy. Here, it felt sincere. Lou Stoppard reflected on the resonance of the moment, and on how fragile societal truths can be. 'I think it's really important that brands like Miu Miu – that have such a profile and such a reach – are putting time and energy into spotlighting amazing female writers of the past, and championing interesting contemporary writers. We are definitely at a moment of certain histories repeating themselves, so I think there's something really important about this line between past and present.' Beyond the Literary Club, Miu Miu continues to invest in female creativity through its Women's Tales film series. Launched in 2011, it commissions female directors to tell their own stories with the sole caveat that characters wear the house's clothing. It's a reminder that the brand's cultural reach extends far beyond the runway. Indeed, Prada's support of the arts places her in historic company. The Medici of Renaissance Florence famously used their wealth and status to elevate artists, philosophers, and poets – patronage that enabled Brunelleschi, Donatello, Botticelli and Michelangelo to flourish. Botticelli even immortalised them: Madonna of the Magnificat (1481) features Lucrezia de' Medici as the titular figure, with a youthful Lorenzo the Magnificent beside her. Perhaps Miuccia Prada hopes to do something similar – through fashion, literature and conversation. As Lauren Elkin, who translated de Beauvoir's The Inseparables, observed: 'You're not born a woman; you become one. That process – of becoming – is still ongoing. And that's what we're talking about.'
