Ruth Gilligan: On the Juxtaposition of Old and New Ireland, Rituals and Folklore and Her Novel, "The Butcher's Blessing"
Set in the gothic wilds of Ireland, The Butchers’ Blessing by Ruth Gilligan moves between the events of 1996, during the spread of Mad Cow, to the present. Eight men, the Butchers, travel the Irish country side, from farm to farm, enacting ancient methods of cattle slaughter. Through this lens, follow several characters throughout time as tradition and modernity clash. This is a haunting, gothic thriller that explores superstition, religion, family and country.
I spoke with Ruth Gilligan via email where she discusses old and new Ireland, telling a story through different points of view, family, and how Irish ritual and folklore inspired her novel, The Butchers’ Blessing.
What sparked the idea for the Butcher's- men who travel throughout the year to enact ancient cattle slaughter methods?
It’s a curious thing, after writing a book, to try and trace back and locate its origin story – to identify the first germ of an idea which, all those years ago, took hold and grew and ultimately blossomed into a novel that now exists out in the world. For me, I think there were two starting points. The first was a longstanding preoccupation with Irish myth and folklore, and the way in which these ancient superstitions and beliefs still existed – and indeed, still exist – alongside the more organised types of faith and religion with which Ireland is so synonymous. I really wanted to explore this tension. The second starting point was a road trip with a friend during which, to pass the time, he started telling me stories from his father’s life as a farm animal vet, and some of the crazy things he had seen down the years – especially during the Mad Cow period. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing – here was a entire, pretty dark world, about which I had known so little. I was fascinated!
So I guess in trying to unite these two preoccupations – the underworld of late 90s beef farming, and Ireland’s endless tapestry of rituals and tales – I discovered a point where they both overlapped, that is, the manifold superstitions and folkloric beliefs that exist around cattle. And I decided to bring all these superstitions and strange rites together to form a group called the Butchers. In that way, I see them as more of an amalgamation than an invention.
I was very interested in this juxtaposition of old Ireland and the new modern Ireland. There are so many contrasts throughout the novel, personified with Fionn and his son Davey for example, as well as the ancient religion of the Butcher’s themeselves against modern cattle slaughter and the outbreak of Mad Cow. Can you speak a little more about this? Modernity versus the old Ireland?
Absolutely. I think Ireland is such a fascinating country in this regard – on the one hand, it boasts this modern image with a thriving economy and real global presence, but on the other hand, there are still a number of aspects that hark back to ancient times. To give just one example, in 1999, plans for a new motorway route were overturned after locals protested against the fact that it would involve demolishing a ‘fairy’ bush, which would in turn anger the fairies and lead to multiple deaths on that particular stretch of road. What a story! On a more serious / sinister note, Ireland projects this image of progress and liberal views, but meanwhile we are still – quite literally – discovering the bones of women and infants who were killed in institutions for unmarried mothers only a few decades ago. It’s this bizarre tension that runs throughout all aspects of Irish life and identity, so I guess pitting the Butchers and their archaic routines against modern factory farming and capitalist greed was just one way of exploring this.
Family is very much at the center of this novel. We see the weight of family expectations and the importance of family traditions. We also see how human desires can get in the way of both of these. What drew you to explore these elements?
I think any Irish novel has family at its heart. And I think for me, following on from my desire to write about the juxtaposition between the old and the new, nowhere is this more keenly felt than within the confines of one family, where the different generations start to clash; where the young feel they need to carry on the legacy of the old, but also want to break away; where cycles of trauma and violence and disappointment are repeated over and over again. I think it also goes back to that idea of faith, because even beyond organised religion, and then more folkloric or local beliefs, there are also the narratives and myths that are specific to every family, and which can offer the same sense of comfort but also of claustrophobia. That’s what coming-of-age stories are so often about – trying to decide which parts of your family’s past to cling on to and which ones to let go. I see this novel as a coming-of-age novel – both in terms of the characters themselves (especially Davey and Úna) but then also in terms of Ireland itself.
I’ve seen this novel described as gothic as well as influenced by folklore. I love both of these elements within your novel and I was curious what draws you to the gothic, to myths, to folklore?
I’ve mentioned the draw to myths and folklore above, and this has always been something that preoccupies me. I think the gothic element is really interesting because for all the gorgeous depictions of rural Ireland in fiction, there are so few novels that explore the darker underside of what goes on in these bucolic settings. There’s been a wonderful spate of English ‘folk gothic’ works recently, from writers like Andrew Michael Hurley and Daisy Johnson, but I was keen to locate an Irish equivalent; to show how the picture postcard rolling green hills can also have a more sinister underbelly.
I’d love to talk about point of view. There are four different people who tell this story from their perceptive, Gra, Una, Fionn and Davey. Was this your first choice as a writer or did it evolve with the story?
I have always adored novels with multiple viewpoints – I am completely drawn to them. The opportunity to watch differing narratives intertwine; to explore the same setting or relationship from an alternative POV – to me that is one of the pure pleasures of fiction. I also, contrary to many others I think, find them easier to write. When you have multiple POVs you can stick with one character for as long as their story is interesting, and then when things start to stall, you can switch – by contrast, the prospect of just staying with one character from start to finish terrifies me – like, how do you manage to keep that interesting? I have so much admiration for writers who pull it off.
In terms of The Butchers, having four main points of view – specifically a father and son and a mother and daughter – felt very apt for exploring all the issues I’ve mentioned above, especially the trans-generational stuff. At one point, one of the perspectives wasn’t ringing true, and my editor and I discussed cutting it, but it would have ruined the symmetry of the book, so I was determined to make it work.
What does your writing practice look like? How long did it take you to write The Butcher’s Blessing?
I am a full-time Creative Writing Professor, so during the semester I get very little writing done – my days are so full up with lecture prep and student tutorials and reading/editing their work. To that end, most of my writing gets done during the holidays, at which point I like to set up a pretty regimented routine. I get up early every morning and go back to bed with a cup of tea and read for an hour or so. I mostly read fiction, and always slightly strategically, depending on what I’m working on – so either books with similar themes or structures or even stylistic devices as my current project – in the hope that it seeps in by osmosis. Then I will get up and head to my desk to start my writing day, treating it just like any other job, pausing for lunch and a run and far too many cups of tea, listening to instrumental music (Nils Frahmn is my current writing jam), oscillating between intense pleasure and intense despair. The Butchers’ Blessing took about three to four years, including research (of which I always do far too much, but I find that part of the process fascinating – and very necessary).
Who are some writers that inspire you? For those interested in reading more Irish literature, what would you recommend?
There is a group of hugely talented British authors at the moment writing beautifully structured, darkly gothic, furiously feminist novels which I adore – I’m thinking of the likes of Evie Wyld, Sarah Hall and Daisy Johnson – all of whom inspired The Butchers’ Blessing a great deal. In terms of Irish literature, there is an endless list of talent (with more exciting voices emerging every day), but for me our greatest living writer is Anne Enright, our finest (and funniest) prose stylist is Kevin Barry, and our most compelling new voice is Sue Rainsford.
