In her latest book, Said the Dead, Doireann Ní Ghríofa inhabits the role of “the Reader,” a figure cast in third person. “In the asylum’s outer edges, she stumbles into a ghost story,” Ní Ghríofa writes. Following chance findings and signs, she pursues the life of a woman named Dr. Lucia Strangman. Lucia is presented as a Victorian eccentric who oversaw the women’s wing of a mental hospital in Ní Ghríofa’s own Cork, Ireland. Some inmates may be considered mad, others are wrestling against their confinement. Lucia emerges as a largely compassionate presence, appearing within the hospital’s casebook’s endless descriptive entries. Through fragments of archival material, Ní Ghríofa summons moments from Lucia’s life and from the many patients she cared for, imbuing these largely overlooked existences with texture and nuance.
Soon, Ní Ghríofa finds herself roaming the condemned structures where the events unfolded. She presses through shattered fences and wanders among graves. Voices begin to surface. As the boundary between past and present grows thin, Ní Ghríofa is observed within the asylum’s corridors by its 19th-century inhabitants; the women who were committed speak to her from rooms that have decayed into the present. At moments, lines that resemble casebook entries describe Ní Ghríofa as if she were Lucia’s patient:
Wanders from home,
Deserting her children
On Christmas morning.
Said … she heard
a ghost speak at the chapel.
She had always heard voices, but looking at the hospital’s casebook-style lines makes it clear where she—and many others—might have ended up in a different century.
–Diana Arterian
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In addition to her books, on her nightstand Ní Ghríofa keeps:
· My reading glasses (which I really should be wearing).
· This old candlestick is a bit of a mess, but I hold it dear. I wrote most of Said the Dead in my car, and whenever I had to leave my usual writing spot to work indoors, I would light a candle to guide my path. The melted wax is all that remains of the many candles burned for this book.
· Unphotographed: The phone I keep trying to ignore, the one I used to take this picture, but I wish I could just throw it out the window.
Describing her own reading rhythm, she characterizes herself as “a dipper.” “I often have a handful of books (or more) on the go at once: a couple of poetry volumes, a novel, an art book, some nonfiction… I dip and tilt from one to the other, never bored.”
Here are the titles on Doireann Ní Ghríofa’s nightstand and her thoughts on each one:
Joff Winterhart, Dear Historian
This graphic novel chronicles the budding friendship between a shattered TV producer and an elderly historian. It’s an irresistibly addictive read; every time I pick it up, I lose myself in its world and forget my annoyingly addictive phone, a rare treat indeed.
Laura Kasischke, Where Now
A treasured favorite of mine; this is likely my fourth or fifth stroll through its pages. I never tire of it—midway through a poem, one line might leap, dive, or pirouette in the most surprising way. Simply magnificent.
Rachel Morley, Church Crawling
Church Crawling is Rachel Morley’s charming new survey of England’s churches. I first encountered it months ago, and I’ve returned to it lately to savor its delightful descriptions and to assemble a wish list of places I hope to visit someday. It’s not every book that makes you daydream about a road trip!
Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin, Selected Poems
This exquisite Faber edition of Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin’s Selected Poems has kept me company from midsummer onward. I often read a page or two just before sleep. It’s a remarkable collection, each poem opening a secret doorway into a new room. I hold admiration for her work in the highest regard.
Blake Morrison, Afterburn
Afterburn marks the first work I’ve encountered from Blake Morrison, and I’ve found his verse so engaging that I intend to explore his prior writings across novels and memoirs as well. The prospect of an expansive journey ahead feels thrilling, given his prolific output across genres.
Sally Hayden, This is Also a Love Story
Next on my list, and with great anticipation, is This is Also a Love Story. I’ve awaited this release throughout the summer. Sally Hayden’s reportage consistently embodies humanity, rigor, and provocation, and this new work promises to be enlightening and instructive.
