But in the Northern Ireland of the time, the fact that Michael Agnew is a well-got Protestant barrister defending Republicans and learning Irish (which is how he introduces Cushla, a nationalist Irish-speaking Catholic, into his social circle of arty professionals) means that their affair is not just explosive romantically, it’s cultural, tribal and, of course, political dynamite. This is unashamedly a Troubles novel- pace Rosemary Jenkinson-set in 1975, about a twenty-four-year-old teacher, Cushla Lavery and her relationship with an older married man. In Trespasses, Kennedy has nailed her colours to the mast in terms of fictional territory. This duality may have something to do with Kennedy’s own history as a Northerner who came south as a twelve-year-old. So there were stories about crumbling ghost estates, fairy ringforts, marijuana grow houses, burial sites of the North’s ‘disappeared’-places weighted with moral hazard. What marked it out, apart from Kennedy’s rich and muscular writing, was the liminal space it inhabited, a border county state of mind, one foot in the South, the other firmly in the North. Her collection of stories, The End of the World is a Cul de Sac, released last year was, literally, a blast of emotional conviction. Louise Kennedy inhabits the same territory but in a completely different way. Belfast has become sexy enough for Kenneth Branagh to package it decorously for a Hollywood audience and Derry has become comic gold through the TV series Derry Girls. Their decision is a testament to how marketable Troubles-era fiction has become. Doire Press, who were due to publish her debut novel, terminated their association with her on the basis of the Fortnight piece, stating that Jenkinson’s views would damage her prospective sales figures. The article had very personal consequences for Jenkinson. Or has it? At the time of writing, Belfast fiction writer and playwright Rosemary Jenkinson caused raised eyebrows by berating fellow Nordies in an article in Fortnight magazine for ‘feasting on the dead corpse of the Troubles more than ever’ and urged them to stop peddling ‘narrow-visioned Belfast Noir’. The old politically cautious adage-whatever you say, say nothing-seems finally to have been put to bed where writing about the Troubles is concerned. I think it’s dawned on people that this is a pretty interesting thing to write about and read about,’ Erskine has said.
‘This is a post-conflict society-by its nature, it’s complex. Almost a quarter century has passed since the Good Friday Agreement was signed and ‘Troubles’ fiction appears to be in bloom-and boom-with a surge of new female voices, in particular, such as Anna Burns, Jan Carson and Wendy Erskine.
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