Words of comfort

Dunne was inspired to write In the Beginning, published in Italy as Half of Nothing, after canvassing on the “yes” side in the 1986 and 1995 divorce referendums. “I felt it was a huge injustice that people who found themselves in a marriage that wasn’t working were condemned to stay in it for the rest of their lives,” says the writer. “We had Irish-style divorce at that point, where men simply disappeared to Britain or wherever. It’s one of the many problems which this country has taken a long time to face up to.”

Dunne recalls being bitterly disappointed when the first referendum failed by a comprehensive margin, 63%-37%. “No matter how people tried to make their situation more tolerable for their children or themselves, external events prevented them from moving on. I heard so many stories where women were on their own and had to economically support a family. They would get themselves out of the economic doldrums, then the man would often return and whatever they had managed to amass would legally be partly his, because the marriage had never been deemed to be over.

“That financial element was a metaphor for other sorts of control that were exercised. That’s why a lot of my female characters want to achieve financial independence before anything else. It’s emblematic — it gives people freedom and control over the rest of their lives.”

Twenty-one years after divorce was finally legalised in Ireland, Dunne is still writing about women struggling to control their own destinies. The Years That Followed, her latest book, is the story of two women embroiled in destructive relationships with men from the same family. Calista, who leaves her home in Dublin for an uncomfortable marriage in Cyprus, eventually casts off her shackles and takes revenge.

Dunne based her story on the Greek myth of Clytemnestra, who murders her husband Agamemnon to avenge the death of her daughter. “The tale was ripe for reimagining,” says the writer. “All those old myths and tales purportedly about territorial battles, wars and rivalry, are actually about family. The Jungian core in all of them explains what it’s like to be human — to feel rage, jealousy, all those negative emotions. I was fascinated with the idea of a female character who would be part victim, but also part villain. I could understand Clytemnestra’s motivation for revenge.”

Dunne describes the book, the first part in a trilogy, as based on Greek myth, although she was equally inspired by Jane Smiley’s A Thousand Acres, a 1991 update of King Lear, and the essays of the Cambridge professor of classics Mary Beard, about the silencing of women’s voices throughout the history of western literature.

The Years That Followed explores the myth of the idealised nuclear family. “Particularly when Catholicism looms large, the family is almost like this sacred unit blessed by God: all things to all men and women, which the state has no business interfering in. Over the past 20 or 30 years in this country, we have seen the lid blown off that completely, where we’ve seen unspeakable abuse within the family setting. The scales have fallen from our eyes.”

The core arguments in opposition to the same-sex marriage referendum last year had also been used to oppose divorce, she points out, such as “if you have divorce or remarriage or same-sex marriage, then family values are going to implode”. “They’re just not,” Dunne says firmly.

In another life, she might have become a politician. She certainly has the tenacity and passion required for social campaigning, but it was perhaps inevitable her words would be delivered in books rather than from the back benches.

The 62-year-old began her career teaching at Greendale Community School in Dublin, where fellow staffers included Roddy Doyle and the writer-director Paul Mercier. “We were all fascinated by books. We would routinely lend each other copies,” she recalls.

Doyle endorsed her first novel and passed it on to his publisher. “We had an agreement. ‘Because we are friends, if you don’t like it, say so and there’s no issue.’ He took the book away with him on holiday and he really liked it.”

In the Beginning was sold in Danish and Swedish territories, and struck a chord in Italy when it was published there in 1998. Italian editions of her novels were already selling well, but after Lario’s name-drop in 2007, the Irish author discovered new levels of success.

“It didn’t matter how wealthy [Lario] was, how well placed, or who her husband was, she found a resonance in my work. I’m grateful to her for namechecking me, but on another level it shows that we all experience the sense of abandonment, betrayal, sadness or grief in the same way.”

The incident made her realise that fiction could have a real impact in the world. “It certainly gave rise to a lot of correspondence from Italian readers at the time, saying things like, ‘This is my life too. How did you know my story?’”

To the occasional annoyance of her publishers, Dunne’s work is difficult to categorise. She followed her debut book with A Name for Himself (1998), written from a male perspective. This was followed by The Walled Garden (2000), about a relationship between a mother and her daughter. She has also written psychological thrillers, such as Set in Stone (2009).

Dunne says she does not feel pressure to write for her overseas audience. Rather, a love of travel has given her European and global perspectives. The Years That Followed is partly set in Spain, a country she discovered in her teens and where she has lived for extended periods of time. Before writing Missing Julia (2010), she lived in a small village in India.

Another Kind of Life (2003) was based on the story of her grandmother, who moved from Dublin to Belfast for a semi-arranged marriage. An Unconsidered People: The Irish in London (2003) was a non-fiction book about Irish immigrants. Ireland has always had a propensity to export its social problems, she says. “We still have a completely unacceptable position surrounding abortion in this country. That is something we need to come to grips with.”

Dunne campaigned in the 1983 referendum against the insertion of the eighth amendment into the Irish constitution. Successive generations of Irish politicians have avoided the issue, she contends.

“We have a ridiculous situation where some elected representatives say there is no such thing as fatal foetal abnormality. On top of the distress of making the decision to terminate a pregnancy, people have to leave this country. Repealing the eighth amendment is the minimum we need before framing legislation. It’s not something that can be decided by a referendum. Legislators and doctors need to hammer out a workable system.”

Abortion does not have to be a polarising issue, she believes. “Militancy happens because of inactivity; because there is such a vacuum. There is nothing either side can hold on to as an ideal. Everybody has to go to extremes in order to make something happen. I’ve seen people being pushed into situations by the language that is used. I take extreme exception to the phrase ‘pro-life’. I’m not pro-death. I’m not pro-abortion. It’s a difficult decision. It can’t be reduced to simplistics.”

In Dunne’s mind, the abortion regime is another way in which patriarchal societies control the lives of women. Yet she is always hopeful these shackles can be escaped. After La Repubblica published Lario’s letter, Berlusconi issued a public apology. Two years later, when allegations of his philandering continued, Lario filed for divorce.

“I believe in the instinct that people can remake, escape, and get out from under that suffocation,” she says. “I see it happen all the time. There is that sense of optimism, that people don’t always remain in a trap.”

The Years That Followed (Macmillan €15.99) is published on Wednesday