Valerie Martin

Valerie Martin is the author of twelve novels, including Trespass, Mary Reilly, Italian Fever, and Property, four collections of short fiction, and a biography of St. Francis of Assisi. She has been awarded a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts and a John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship. Her novel Mary Reilly was awarded the Kafka prize, shortlisted for the Prix Femina (France), and made into a motion picture directed by Stephen Frears and starring Julia Roberts and John Malkovitch. Property won Britain's Orange Prize (now called the Women's Prize) in 2003.

Martin's new novel is Mrs. Gulliver.

My Q&A with the author:

How much work does your title do to take readers into the story?

The title of my novel Mrs. Gulliver is the narrator’s name. She is the madam of a legal brothel on the fictional island of Verona, somewhere in this world. This title wasn’t my first choice, which was Carità, the name of the young, beautiful, formerly wealthy but now destitute blind girl who arrives with her sister at Lila Gulliver’s door looking for work.

After much back and forth it was decided that Americans dislike titles with accents in them. Also, as the book progressed, it became clear that in telling the story of her most interesting employee, Lila Gulliver was telling as much or more about herself. Carità is something of a mystery to Lila, who doesn’t expect a blind girl to be both willful and astute. At their first interview, when Carità says something very rude about her own limited options, and her sister scolds her, she responds, “I don’t think Mrs. Gulliver is shocked.” Nor is she. Mrs. Gulliver is intrigued.

What's in a name?

The character named Carità is a beautiful, blind, destitute, nineteen-year-old orphan, intelligent, capable, and determined to succeed. Her mother died when she was born, and she was raised by a wealthy uncle who provided her with an expensive and extensive education. Her mother, an Italian, lived only long enough to name her sightless daughter Carità.

In Italian, carità means charity, as well as mercy. I’ve seen Italian men press the index finger to the thumb, wag the hand and say “per carità.” For mercy’s sake. Carità’s dying mother could have been begging for her sightless babe or assigning her a mission. A plea or a command. Mercy. It’s a virtue.

How surprised would your teenage reader self be by your new novel?

Mrs. Gulliver takes place in a brothel, hence there is sex. However, there is also a good bit of Roman Catholic doctrinal detail, as well as a kitchen table discussion of Karl Marx vs. Adam Smith. Still, I doubt the open-minded nuns who guided my teenage self would have found it suitable. When these nuns, after a long, serious, heated discussion, decided to teach The Catcher in the Rye to the senior class, the uproar from the parents was considerable.

I would have been forbidden to read Mrs. Gulliver. I would have had to sneak it off the shelf in the public library and read it inside another book on the patio. I would have been shocked. I would have loved it.

Do you find it harder to write beginnings or endings? Which do you change more?

Oh, it is always easy to hoist the sail and cruise out of the harbor, but not such a simple matter to get back. There are storms, there are doldrums, there are sullen companions, unreliable instruments, even whales. I like not knowing where I’m going for a while, just taking in the sights, enjoying the ride, but at some point, there must be a destination. Do we end where we began, or somewhere unexpected and strange, or do we, sadly, fall overboard and drown?

My problem is making the choice. I can always think of many endings, including the dreaded open ending, which I know readers dislike, but I enjoy. The world dotes on a happy ending, yet who doesn’t love a weeper. When I was in college, we all marveled over the novel The French Lieutenant’s Woman. John Fowles gave it two endings!

So of course no one can ever do that again.

Endings are hard.

Do you see much of yourself in your characters? Do they have any connection to your personality, or are they a world apart?

My poor characters! They are my prisoners. I put them in the direst physical straits, plunge them into impossible moral quandaries. I bring them right to the door of success, of love, of triumph and then slam it in their faces. If they could escape the fictions in which they find themselves they would doubtless cry out, as Bette Davis does when her lawyer refuses to help her in The Letter, “How could you be so cruel?”

And I’m not sure how to answer that charge. They wouldn’t believe it, but I do love them. How could I not? I made them up, set them adrift, gave them desires and ambitions, fears, failures of courage, a will to power or a proclivity for self-destruction. I try not to force them but to follow them, and to understand why they might make that wrong choice they are destined from all time to make.

Maybe I’m mellowing as time goes by. My most recent book has an indisputably happy ending. A reviewer described it as “surprisingly cheerful.” I expect a thank-you note from the narrator any day now.

What non-literary inspirations have influenced your writing?

Music, though I don’t play it all the time, as some writers I know do. I generally pick something that has the mood I want. For my novel Mary Reilly, which takes place in London, I wanted something rainy and full of shadows, so I chose Philip Glass piano music. For Property, I wanted something that would set my nerves on edge. My partner directed me to a few Penderecki selections that were like a million screeching insects. For Salvation, my biography of St. Francis, I wanted music that was both poignant and triumphant. Philip Glass’s magnificent String Quartet #5 more than filled the bill. I listen to the music for a while when I sit down at the desk. Once a scene is underway, I turn it off.

Visit Valerie Martin's website.

The Page 69 Test: Mrs. Gulliver.

My Book, The Movie: Mrs. Gulliver.

--Marshal Zeringue