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thanks @catchfire!
those scenes (the writing classes) were inspired by a class I took at the University of Toronto a dozen years ago, shortly after a terrible break-up! I wrote the first draft of the first chapter of my first novel in that class.
Welcome Farzana! It is terrific to have you here!
thanks Kim!
Hi Farzana!
As a reader, I found in addition to the act of writing but also Ismail reaches out and connects with various communities within the novel. This also seemed like an act of therapy. How did you go choosing and about researching these communities/neighbourhoods?
Holy! (I should take class more seriously!)
It fits into the idea of self-awareness/self-help. Ismail seems to be more repsonsive to self-discovery and evaluation through reading and writing than therapy -- why did you paint him in this light? Is it a relfection of your own processes?
I live in Brockton Village, one of Toronto's Little Portugals (there are 3, i think). My neighbourhood inspired the novel's primary setting and my neighbours, most of whom are Portuguese Canadians, inspired the decision to have ismail connect with Celia.
My neighbourhood has changed a little over time, but when I first moved in, it was dubbed, "Widow Row". I wondered about the lives of the widows, and this wondering seeped into the book.
The research involved speaking with "cultural insiders" (Portuguese friends or friends-of-friends) and reading as much as I could about the community.
I'm not sure why I painted Ismail as someone not receptive to therapy...it just seemed to fit. He is mostly stagnant for 20 years and so it made sense to me that his employer-mandated therapy shouldn't work for him at all.
I also think that I relied on my knowledge of South Asian communities and their relationship to therapy. I grew up in a home where the concept of therapy is very alien.
That said, I am a psychotherapist in private practice, and I like to write about therapy in my writing.
(I especially like to poke fun at therapists in my writing).
Sorry, I'm a bit late to the party! Just catching up now. Welcome, Farzana. I must admit I'm only halfway through the book so far, but I'm really enjoying it!
thanks jrose!
I hadn't really thought about it it before, but of course this is theraputic book. You take the readers through a cathartic experience right alongside the characters. It is incredibly moving, the way these three characters find each other, and heal. The characters are so rich, and the detail of the communities so thorough: as someone who loves Toronto and the many characters that make the city, I found that I could not put the book down. But I'm curious to know how you came to write - and research - the story of someone who lost a child in this way. Wouldn't some say that as a writer, this is almost a taboo subject - exploring the character of someone who has experienced such tragedy? By taboo I mean isn't this the kind of subject matter that publishers would say "won't sell books": it is such a painful subject, and painful exploration.
While reading Six Metres, I could so clearly picture the neighbourhoods that I lived in when in Toronto. It felt like home, which allowed me, while reading, to simply immerse myself in the story of these two individuals, their struggles and their coming together.
A lovely story, so very full of warmth, humanity, and of moving beyond adversity.
@kim elliott: I 'liked' your comment (in my mind)
Yes! Echoing Rebecca's thoughts here...
Having also lived downtown Toronto, the imagery in the book made me really nostalgic. As a student however, I rarely got to interact with my neighbours many of whom were immigrants. Was it difficult to fictionalize interactions that were so close in proximity? Is that why you chose an older, male protagonist? That seems like a challenging to develop for a first novel!
Kim, thanks for your comments.
I first heard about a story like Ismail's in the media many years ago. While I was disturbed by the death of the child, I was most obsessed by the question of how someone manages to go on living after making the biggest/worst mistake of his life. My research involved reading more of these media stories and imagining redemption. I didn't want to speak to a parent in this situation because it is such a painful topic.
I did worry a lot about the "sellability" of a book with such a serious/difficult premise. I still do. My biggest allies are booksellers and readers who let people know that this is really a book about redemption, creating family, as well as a love story. But, yeah, it can be a hard sell. Many parents have told me that they hesitated (at first) to pick up the book.
Thanks Rebecca and Alex!
and Kaitlin!
I didn't feel it was difficult to write these characters...they didn't feel so close to me, in terms of age or experience. I had more trouble with my first novel's protagonist, who is a South Asian lesbian psychologist!
Kaitlin, the agonias comes from the work of Dr. Susan James, a psychologist who writes about Azorean immigrants. Her work was really helpful for drawing Celia.
Not a question of economy, but I'm curious. As a writer, how do you intellectually balance between getting the story out, with whatever truths you might be revealing, and knowing that there is a market that must be, to some extent, catered to in order to get the story read by as many people as possible. You seem to balance this quite well, but it can't be easy.
I enjoyed their incorporation and how it made a familiar and real presence for Celia.
It seemed everything was alive and animated: The neighbourhood whispered, the communities talked and moved as one, clothes had separate lives and rooms could 'die' so to speak.
Agonias is a really interesting phenomenon, I think, and a neat conceit in the book. I was wondering if agonias, and the other mental afflictions in the book (Ismail is in, as you put it, "stasis" for 20 years), had any relation in your mind with the novel's first pages and the idea of motion and movement. I wonder if you, as a psychotherapist, were connecting moving minds with moving people at all.
Rebecca, I think for me the story has to come first. A novel takes a long time to write, and so the premise had better be something that holds my attention for a few years!
Issues regarding the market (which are really important) come later, in the revisions/editing process. I look for ways to make the story more palatable, interesting, accessible etc. at that stage.
One thing I try to do at readings is to share both serious and funny scenes, as way to communicate to the audience that this book isn't going to be a huge downer.
You set up these absolutes of the notion of 'good' and 'bad': 'good girls' 'bad people' 'good choices' 'bad influences'.
I find this rhetoric damaging and dangerous, and very easy for people to use to dismiss others and their values; however, it rounded the story. Did you find it difficult, yet necessary to incorporate these notions?
Thanks Kaitlin!
Catchfire, I was thinking a lot about mind and body connections during this book. The inspiration for the first page actually came from my sister, who is an RMT and Feldenkreis practitioner. She's often spoken to me about how not moving the body can have an impact on our emotions.
As a writer, it's important to "show vs tell", and the body's motion (or lack of motion) is a lovely literary device!
Farzana wrote:
Issues regarding the market (which are really important) come later, in the revisions/editing process. I look for ways to make the story more palatable, interesting, accessible etc. at that stage.
One thing I try to do at readings is to share both serious and funny scenes, as way to communicate to the audience that this book isn't going to be a huge downer.
On the issue of connecting with your readership -- have you heard from any South Asian/Portuguese immigrant communities about your book and feedback on any of the issues it touches upon? Wondering if you have had success doing outreach within your neighbourhood on the book connecting with potentially new audiences?
I think that it is necessary, especially in dialogue, to write this kind of rhetoric (especially if it fits with a character's way of speaking). Hopefully, by naming some of these notions, the reader is able to question them.
Farzana wrote:
I first heard about a story like Ismail's in the media many years ago. While I was disturbed by the death of the child, I was most obsessed by the question of how someone manages to go on living after making the biggest/worst mistake of his life. My research involved reading more of these media stories and imagining redemption. I didn't want to speak to a parent in this situation because it is such a painful topic.
I did worry a lot about the "sellability" of a book with such a serious/difficult premise. I still do. My biggest allies are booksellers and readers who let people know that this is really a book about redemption, creating family, as well as a love story. But, yeah, it can be a hard sell. Many parents have told me that they hesitated (at first) to pick up the book.
Thank you for being so candid about the research process. I found myself - still find myself- thinking about Ismail, and that process of going on with life after that one pivotal moment of distraction. The parts of the book that were the most difficult for me to read where those moments where he remembers his daughter; and those when he re-lives that day in his memory. Is there a psychological connection between the idea of agonias and the physicality of the memories that Ismail experiences?
But as you say, the pain you experience through empathy with the characters is absolutely worth it as it also a story of healing, redemption, and the most unusual love story (a story of many loves/kinds of love).