Q&A with Meg Mason

Winner of the British Book Industry Book of the Year and shortlisted for the Women’s Prize, Sorrow and Bliss propelled author and journalist Meg Mason to worldwide acclaim. Now, Meg returns with her newest novel Sophie, Standing There – a tale of love and loneliness set at a writers' festival.

Ahead of her conversation at the State Library of NSW, we sat down with Meg to discuss writing, reading and her latest work.

As live event organisers ourselves, some of the scenes in Sophie, Standing There were utterly cringe-inducing (borrowed galaxy tights and all) – what drew you to the setting of a literary festival?

I have always loved literary festivals, as a reader. Until three years ago, I’d never done one, as a writer, so it was incredible to suddenly find myself there, with a window to everything that goes on. The novel takes place mostly in the wings, because backstage is the most extraordinary place. It’s dark, confined, intimate, soaked in adrenalin, the one place where everyone collides – the Talent, the staff, everyone who brings books to readers, who with five minutes before the lights come up, you can hear as a rumble from the auditorium. As far as human life, story and tension and complication go, it felt ready-made as a setting to me.

Speaking of ill-fitting tights, the novel moves seamlessly between moments of great sincerity and absolute hilarity, how did you achieve that on the page?

Hilary Mantel said, “Comedy is not generated by a writer who sails to her desk saying, ‘Now I will be funny.’ It comes from someone who crawls to her desk, leaking shame and despair, and begins to describe faithfully how things are. In that fidelity to the details of misery, one feels relish. The grimmer it is, the better it is: slowly, reluctantly, comedy seeps through.” That’s how I do it. I just sit and leak shame.

Sophie, Standing There is dotted with references to literary greats, many of whom you’re very close to, what was it like bringing real figures and friends into your fictional world?

To begin with, Sophie was going to be a short story and because I’ve written exactly one short story in my life, up to then, and it wasn’t very good, it was never going to be seen. I was just writing Sophie for fun, and the funnest part was filling her world with the authors who have meant the most to me, over my reading life. When those pages turned into a novel, and then a novel was going to be published, I knew I would ask for their permission and I was so sad they’d all say no, and I’d have to take them out, because why would they say yes? It’s not as though George Saunders or David Sedaris or Elizabeth Strout or any of the others need my help to get their names out there. But they all said yes, and the only reason is because writers are deeply generous and supportive of others’ work.

Today, readers have more access than ever to the creators of their favourite books. What do you make of this perceived closeness?

It’s so strange, isn’t it. In the scheme of things, it wasn’t that long ago that you could love an author and have no idea what they looked or sounded like, and certainly not get glimpses of their desk, or see where they went on holiday or ate on Christmas Day. And I think, while on some levels it can make authors seem more human, less remote, I sometimes find knowing too much about the author makes it harder to suspend disbelief and fall totally into the story.

What books or writers inspire your craft?

George Saunders is the writer I always turn to for technical advice, by which I mean, take A Swim in the Pond with Rain off the shelf and let myself read one page before getting back to work. Barbara Trapido, Carol Sheilds, Nancy Mitford are the writers I always have in my mind when I am trying to write ‘sad and funny at the same time’ because they are the best at it.

Which titles are on your TBR today?

This year has been about reading classics that I’ve felt like I should have read already. That’s never true – there’s no duty to read anything you’re not drawn to – but I did finally address Middlemarch, not expecting it to become one of my favourite books of all time, which it now is. So, my TBR is Mill on the Floss, and after that, I am going to start on Elizabeth Gaskill, or just try.

What do you hope readers take away from Sophie, Standing There?

As well as being a book about books, a study of friendship and fame, and a quiet love story, Sophie is a book about loneliness. It wasn’t until I’d finished it that I could see the harder thing than just being lonely is the sense of private shame about the fact you’re lonely. But loneliness is a season. It isn’t who you are, it’s just something that is presently happening, and all present things become – as they do for Sophie – things of the past.