RONAN O'SHEA is an author from Barnet.
His debut novel, Murphy Who Talks (Indie Novella) was published in October and is now on its second print run.
This week he took time out to talk to the Irish Post....
Author Ronan O'SheaWhat are you up to?
Procrastinating by staring out the window before I try to promote Murphy Who Talks in emails, write something new, monitor an ongoing kitchen refurbishment, learn a little Italian, fine-tune my fantasy football team (it’s not going well) and within all that remember to pay my monthly therapy bill. I take a lot on.
Best pub in London?
There is a way the light pings from the walls to the tables in the Bank of Friendship that can’t be beat.
What books are on your bedside table at the minute?
The Collected Essays by James Baldwin and Jon Fosse’s Septology. Also my late father’s discharge book from when he was a sailor, which I’ve been leafing through. I’d no idea he went to Rio de Janeiro. Or Sunderland for that matter.
Which piece of music always sends a shiver down your spine?
It was ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ but it’s lost its sheen since I started using it as a lullaby for my child. Nowadays, it’s the late Conor Walsh’s The Lucid (with Jack Charlton tribute overlay) or Light Years by The National.
Which writer has most influenced you?
Maggie O’Farrell and Colm Tóibín are up there, likewise Karl Ove Knausgaard. You’d not know it from his style to mine, but it’s there. The biggest influence has to be Josef Hašek; his unfinished The Good Soldier Švejk is a masterclass in comic fiction.
What’s on your smartphone playlist at the minute?
I recently discovered Talisk, so they’re getting a good look-in, though The National are always near the fore. There was actually a law passed in 2017 that insisted that grizzled men in their mid-thirties with beards and beer bellies have to listen to The National at least twice each day.
Mozart or Martin Hayes?
I saw Martin at a Tourism Ireland event at the Barbican years ago; Jeremy Irons accidentally knocked over a Tourism Ireland sign that hit me. Very tall man. Mozart was a bit of a brat, was he not? I’ll go with Hayes.
What’s your favourite film?
Difficult to look beyond The Empire Strikes Back. They ought to have just stopped cinema there, though I suppose that’d upend the point of a trilogy.
If you could delete one cliché from all literature forever, which one goes in the bin?
I don’t know if it counts, but I’ve never been a fan of the must reads. There are no books you must read, only a heap of books that you might like to read. I’ve read Ulysses and it was too clever for me. Which is not to say it’s no masterpiece, only don’t punish yourself over what you’ve not read or struggled with.
What are your Irish roots?
Kerry through and through. Mum was born here to parents who moved over during the Second World War.
Dad was from Cahersiveen. Family lore has it he was the first man breathalysed in Ireland, as a cousin (a policeman) needed to test the kit.
We used to go over for several weeks every summer.
I try and go back as often as I can, but life and the relative strength of the euro get in the way.
What is your favourite place in Ireland?
Valentia Island and the Skelligs. God earned his pint at the end of that day.
When do you write — are you disciplined, or do you just scribble whenever?
I was with Murphy Who Talks; 2-3 hours a day before shifts at the pub. Nowadays, I’m more methodical, managing writing around family commitments. I still try and make sure I do a bit every day and, if not, make sure I read, as that’s vital.
Hemmingway (attributed): write when you’re drunk; edit when you’re sober. Agree or disagree?
No. I’ve tried, and drunk writing is never good. It doesn’t help that I can’t read my own handwriting. Two pints is okay but after that you’re in trouble.
Which fictional character (not your own) would you absolutely refuse to share a flat with?
Don Quixote. You can’t be relying on men with delusions of grandeur. They’re not the sort to make sure the toilet roll holders get recycled, are they? I’d also struggle with Norman Bates, for obvious reasons.
Where is the strangest place you’ve written?
Cavan.
What piece of music would make you get up and leave a party?
God Save the Queen (happy hardcore remix excluded).
Dickens or Enright?
Did Dickens not have his wife herself deliver his saucy love letters to a mistress? On that count alone, I’ll probably go with Anne.
Which living person do you most admire?
Should probably say my mother, but I’m not going to. It’s Troy Parrot.
Which person from the past do you most admire?
Kurt Vonnegut. The man raised six kids, only three of which were his own, and that’s before even going into the work he produced.
What would be your motto?
Be kind. Even to estate agents.
Pantomime or opera?
Opera. I dislike the way Panto breaks the fourth wall.
In terms of inanimate objects, what is your most precious possession?
My father’s Dingle Regatta medal, 1971. I wear it as a necklace.
What’s the best thing about where you live?
The cafes nearby do great pastries.
. . . . and the worst?
The phone reception.
What’s the greatest lesson life has taught you?
Things just happen. Endure and write about it.
What do you believe in?
People, still. Somehow, people.
What do you consider the greatest work of art?
The Tayto.
Murphy Who Talks is available through Indie Novella and in Waterstones, Foyles and other stores.
See More: Gary O'Shea, Murphy Who Talks
