The novel toys with ideas about standardized female traits in relation to governance – like the propensity for collaboration and consensus. At Carhullan the evening meetings run in a way that displaces the antagonistic disrespectful formula currently in operation at the Houses of Parliament, a quite appalling formula.
That doesn't mean the women at the farm have all the answers or that they crack all the problems of community living. The community favors gay relationships and it excludes men, including sons. It is a deeply discriminatory code. And the farm's successes are put under pressure. But history tells us that all too often initially noble movements break down.
Ultimately, Jackie Nixon is very clever. She knows that a Constitution could be used against her. She maintains authority by every means possible – via the brain, the personality, and the gun. I tried very hard to make the character of Jackie walk the tightrope between hero and villain, and to stay upright until the end.
There's a reproductive rights struggle in your novel, but it's the opposite of what we experience in the Western world. We constantly battle for the right to keep contraception and abortion legal and safe. We can freely have children, but want to maintain control over the ability to choose not to have children.
In the world of the Authority, contraception is forced onto women, and their desire to reproduce is controlled and determined by a lottery. Every woman is fitted with a contraceptive coil beginning at age 14.
Do you think that restricting reproductive rights - in either direction - strikes at the heart of a society? Was the idea of the coil always an essential part of the story for you, and do you feel it resonates in female readers in a way that male readers may not understand?
Population control is going to become an unavoidable issue in the real world, as the effects of limited resources kick in. I chose this theme because it has future relevance. Meanwhile we fight on about other issues. The area of reproductive rights is an absolute minefield – it's a minefield laid in the female anatomy. Yes, the feeling I have is that interference with fundamental rights of the female body and the female mind is the absolute sign of a failing society, or a desperate society.
The idea of contraceptive coils being implanted was there right from the start. It seems like the most brutal and invasive form of reproductive control. It takes on symbolic weight in the text. Women's bodies, their wombs, their vaginas, their hormonal systems, have always been focused on when it comes to reproduction or contraception.
It might well be an area difficult for men to fully appreciate. I hope the scene where Sister is fitted with her coil resonates with male readers as well. It's graphic and difficult. It asks the reader to appreciate not just about the physical discomfort her body goes through for the sake of a select system of control. It is also the mental discomfort, the idea of anatomical servitude.
What do you hope readers come away with in reading this book? Would you have gone to Carhullen?
I hope readers come away having enjoyed the story foremost, but also thinking about some of the ideas in the book, like fanaticism, and perhaps even arguing about these. I hope readers will consider some of the current problems we face, like impending environmental catastrophe and the social breakdowns that will inevitably follow.
I created the idea of Carhullan for the purposes of a novel; it is a fictional device. Were I to consider it a project for the real world it would have to look different.
In writing Daughters of the North, you've joined the ranks of 'those' books - 1984, The Handmaid's Tale, Brave New World, etc. - that speculate on the future. And any discussion of your novel will likely lead to comparisons. Is there a greater responsibility on the shoulders of a woman writing in that very specific genre - a sort of moral/ethical/social obligation she has to women today and women down the road, months and years ahead, who will read her book?
When I wrote this book I did not have in mind that I was writing genre fiction. I suppose I would call myself a literary fiction writer, which I interpret to mean a writer who is limited only by the standards of excellence. I was thinking about the original qualities of the story, and the idiosyncrasy of the book when I wrote it. I was thinking about the particular world the book creates. I was aware of and familiar with novels that have trodden over some similar thematic ground.
But I have to say some of the initial comparisons made between DOTN and speculative/dystopian books, such as The Handmaid's Tale, have been very lazy. I think the contrasts are perhaps clearer.
There are conversations this book might be seen to be having with other science fictions and speculative fictions, about civilization, sexuality, and future jeopardy – and I hope those conversations will be extricated - but to try to bundle these books too tightly together might not be helpful. They have such range.
My obligation as a novelist is to write the best possible story, in as thoughtful, dramatic, and skilful a way possible. The obligation is to keep the quality of the prose high and to channel the creative vectors into fiction that has both contemporary relevance and longevity. I hope the book is an example of the female discussion at its time of writing, but I hope the issues it addresses are also wider.
