Living on the lighter side of life

And accepting that 'not very serious' doesn't equate to shallow

I’ve been reading a lot of contemporary literary fiction lately, and really enjoying it. I’m currently devouring Big Swiss by Jen Beagin and feeling decidedly uncomfy, which I suspect is exactly how the author wants the reader to feel. I’ve also recently read Naoise Dolan, Megan Nolan and Caroline O’Donoghue; all are Irish authors renowned for their powerful, evocative prose, all are a similar age to me, all university graduates with similar degrees (Megan and Naoise are fellow Trinners, Caroline went to UCC) and I admire all of their work. But it does make me wonder about myself, I won’t lie. Because in terms of being an author, a writer, a person in the world, I am most certainly the Anti Sally Rooney. Not anti-Sally Rooney, mind. She’s fabulous. What I’m saying is that I’m her polar opposite. I am the Candace Bushnell to her Fran Lebowitz.

I am somebody who likes the lighter side of life - to quote Logan Roy facetiously, I am not serious people. I love pop culture, reality television, music with a mass market appeal. I rarely visit museums on my holidays unless they have fun exhibits. I read for pleasure, seek out joy, find things that are popular interesting. I also love a birra glamour - long hair, nails and lashes, pink and leopard print. But I do worry about all of that meaning I come across as shallow and frivolous. That being light can mean being seen as less than. And that’s something that’s prevalent in culture right now, Barbie V Oppenheimer being the obvious example. (I loved both, and Mission: Impossible 7, too - yay cinema!)

My work reflects who I am, so my debut novel is commercial fiction. It deals with the stuff that I’m interested in, and while it has real emotion, it’s definitely more funny than angsty. For that reason, I doubt it will be taken very seriously - and therein lies the struggle. Take my amusing sass seriously, says the bubbly, eager, unserious woman!

This is something that has troubled me for ever, because I have always wanted to be taken seriously. I am a clever person, but not in the same way many of my college peers were clever, and I always felt undermined or a bit thick next to them. They may not have thought that, but I did. I don’t have a private school education, the things I excelled in were less cerebral and I didn’t know who Nietzsche was in advance of attending university. I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder for the first couple of years, most evident when in my Jane Austen seminars and some of my fellow students spoke about her beautiful, timeless writing like it was trash because it was about relationships.

But over time I learned that I was neither stupid nor vapid, I was just in to different stuff. I liked rom coms, blockbusters, melodrama and linear narratives. I liked unfussy, escapist entertainment and relating to other human beings through storytelling rather than marvelling at the technical elements. Sure, Battleship Potemkin is a remarkable film, but is it enjoyable? No siree. Interstellar is undoubtedly a work of cinematic art, but it absolutely boils my piss and gives me a headache.

I have to keep reminding myself that there is nothing wrong with being light. It may be the opposite of dark, but it’s also not automatic code for shite. All of my favourite authors write with a light touch, even when discussing dark issues. All of them operate in the realm of human emotion and interactions, but in a relatable way.

Look at my friend Sarah Breen, and her remarkable series of Aisling novels written with Emer McLysaght. They have touched the nation in a way few others have, talking about the most normal stuff going and delivered with humour and warmth. Look at Marian Keyes, who is the master of deft profundity, touching your soul without you even realising. Because everything is profound, really. Art is just all about how you look at it. And art is not just what hangs in museums, or wins critical acclaim.

In my life, I’ve had to get over not being for everyone. You can’t win ‘em all, you can’t please everybody. It’s annoying for a permanent lick-arse, but it’s a fact. I won’t be winning any Nobel prizes for literature, but that doesn’t mean that what I do doesn’t matter.

So I’ve decided to stop beating myself up about not being a literary chick, and get off my own back about not being as clever or deep as my peers in fiction. I’m not exactly a serious journalist either, and that’s never bothered me - it just meant I was the right person to talk about catfishing, pubic hair and celebrity divorces, and have fun doing it. Politics? Not my forte. Hard news? No, you’re grand. People, and our lived experiences? Sign me up!

A lot of life, I’ve realised, is about accepting yourself for what you are. I could be more intellectual, but I also could be a lot less craic. Swings and roundabouts.