Paul Lynch: ‘When you win the Booker, you are told you won’t write for a year’
Paul Lynch is the author of five novels. Born in 1977, he grew up in Malin Head, the most northerly point on the Irish coast. His latest novel, Prophet Song, depicts a nightmarish vision of Ireland sliding into an authoritarian regime. Written in long, poetic sentences – without speech marks and few paragraph breaks – the novel pulls the reader into the claustrophobic world of a city under siege. Described by Lit Hub as a “300-page panic-attack”, Prophet Song, just published in paperback, won the Booker prize last year. Lynch has been compared to Cormac McCarthy and William Faulkner.
How has it been since you won the Booker?I no longer measure time in weeks and months. I measure it by interviews. At Christmas, I’d passed the 100 mark. I’m at about 170 now. It still seems improbable, miraculous even, that the Booker prize came my way, though my eight-year-old daughter is unimpressed. She announced recently: “I am sick and tired of people stopping you on the street and saying ‘congratulations’.” The disdain with which she said that word would strip the skin.
One year ago to the day that you discovered you were on the Booker shortlist, you were on the operating table, having been diagnosed with cancer. Your son was born in 2018 and your marriage recently ended. How would you describe the past few years for you?There is a photo of me taken seconds after winning the Booker. My editor, Juliet Mabey, puts her arms around me while my agent Simon Trewin leaps to his feet applauding. But I have my hands to my face. That is the photo of a man who can no longer process reality, who was met with a cancer diagnosis and major surgery 15 months prior and who saw his marriage end unexpectedly while in recovery. Ten seconds after that photo was taken, I was on my feet meeting the moment. I have been fortunate to get preventive immunotherapy and have been told the illness is very unlikely to recur. I cannot tell you how happy I am to be getting on with the rest of my life.
For many months you were working on ‘the wrong novel’. How did you change to get on track with the right one?I was writing the wrong novel for about six months, just drilling through granite and getting nowhere. And then one Friday afternoon I thought: “This isn’t a novel, I’m done.” The following Monday I returned calmly to my desk with no idea what to do. I created a new document and waited. And then the opening page of Prophet Song arrived and I knew it had the juice, that ineffable substance you hope to find in your writing. In life, I am big proponent of the swerve. If Satan, when being cast out of heaven, had swerved, where might he have landed? I love that idea. We should all swerve now and again.
Reading the novel today, it is impossible not to be reminded of the war in Ukraine and the Israel-Gaza conflict. But you started writing in the autumn of 2018.I was definitely trying to see into the modern chaos writing this book, though I was hardly surprised when I saw Mariupol being levelled or Gaza pounded to dust. I’ve been told I’ve written a zeitgeist novel, but to me this is a novel about what has been, what continues to be and what will always be. There is a wretchedness built into the human condition. There is no biblical end-of-days. We destroy the world again and again and again and you watch it on the news.
There were four Irish writers on the Booker longlist last year. While Irish fiction is always in a class of its own, it seems to be dominating at the moment. Why?Ireland is in the midst of a social revolution and it’s having a profound impact on our art. Where once we lived in the shadow of the cross, we are now cosmopolitan Europeans creating a post-Catholic society, exploring and re-identifying what it means to be Irish
There really should be a limit to how many times a week one is allowed to enter Lidl
in a globalised world. Our art has exploded with ferocious energy to meet this moment. Prophet Song seems to me a global novel, but it is indisputably Irish.
Were you a good student?When I was 12, a teacher pounded me with his fists over a maths problem and that did it for me with school. In fourth year at secondary school, my English teacher kicked me out of honours English. We did not get on and I thought he was a fool. I sat in pass English for a few weeks and then found myself reinstated. My mother told me years later that some teachers were aghast, and along with my parents, went to the headmaster. How lucky I am for that. The writers that I devoured over the next two years – Hardy, Eliot, Shakespeare, Manley Hopkins – went into my DNA and made me what I am.
Are you back in your writing shed yet?I am tinkering with something on the days when I don’t have interviews or travel, but in truth, I have so little bandwidth. When you win the Booker, you are told you won’t write for a year. I’ve met a few recent winners on the road who have each confided that it may take much longer than that. The impact on one’s psyche of winning a prize of this scale is not to be underestimated.
What do you do when you aren’t writing?I spend a weird amount of time in supermarkets. I cook a lot and tend to make most meals from scratch. There really should be a limit to how many times a week one is allowed to enter Lidl. When I have downtime, or don’t have the kids, I play jazz LPs, watch classic cinema, read and mooch about. I tend not to watch TV. That latest show you want to discuss on your favourite streamer? Sorry, but I mostly haven’t got a clue, though I am a fan of
You have described your worldview as tragic. Do you feel there is any hope for us?Dostoevsky wanted to know how much human being is in a human being. I consider that my project. All five of my books belong to the tragic worldview. In other words, they are unashamedly metaphysical and concerned with the inevitability of suffering and loss within our impermanent world. Such notions might sound quaint, but we would do well to reflect on them in our mindless modern moment. The Oedipus plays and King Lear endure for good reason.
Tell us a joke.A woodpecker walks into a bar, sits down and says: “Excuse me, is the bartender here?”
• Prophet Song by Paul Lynch is published by Oneworld (£9.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
naline hit. The thrill of pulling off the impossible.
Dayna Grant, 47, Auckland: ‘I was 18 when I landed my first stunt role, by total chance’
When my first child was onemonth-old, in September 2011, I was filming a commercial. I had to ice skate straight into a wall and fly over it. I wasn’t able to skate fast enough, so a professional speed-skater propelled me forward from behind. I went flying, snapping my wrist, before falling facefirst into the solid ice. All I could say, in a pool of blood, was “Keep my baby warm”. Then I was out cold. Thirty stitches in my face. I didn’t wake up until I was in hospital.
That night, when I couldn’t pick up or kiss my baby, failing to feed him, I faced some existential questions. For a few days I struggled and wondered if I should call time on my career. Within weeks, I was back at it. I couldn’t keep myself away.
Since then I’ve shot Avatar here in New Zealand, Wonder Woman 1984 in Europe, Mad Maxin Namibia… and so many more. I’ve doubled for Gwyneth Paltrow, Tilda Swinton and Charlize Theron, and have the scars to prove it.
I was 18 years old when I landed my first stunt role, by total chance. I was at the gym when some friends mentioned auditions for Xena: Warrior Princess,a major 1990s US series. New Zealand is a hub of filmmaking now, but it wasn’t then – the timing for me was perfect. I looked at what was required and I was a perfect fit. Unbeknown to me, I’d been training my entire life for a job I didn’t know existed. Mum ran a gymnastics club, so I was a solid acrobat. I’d trained through my teens as a dancer: choreo and movement mimicking came naturally. And, growing up on an vast rented 8,500 acre farm, I could ride horses before I could work – Dad tied me to his saddles from the age of six months, as soon as I could sit up.
All this gave me an ideal grounding. My ADHD was undiagnosed back then. I was that kid who would leap off cliffs, swim too far, hang on to horses. I was kicked out of school, unable to engage. I was told I’d be a nobody destined for a life of nothingness. I had no idea what I might do and our family was poor. When I got that part in Xena, right away, I knew it was my future. I felt I’d won the lottery.
A few years ago, I had my biggest accident. For legal reasons, I can’t go into specifics. I went headfirst into a concrete wall. It was pretty horrific. Afterwards, at night-time, I’d go numb, unable to feel my arms. It was starting to happen during the day as well. I had brain surgery two years ago, and neck surgery eight months ago.
I’ve got three kids now, one teenager and two in their 20s. I’m still performing. I wouldn’t change it for the world. The day I was being wheeled into brain surgery, I thought to myself: if I could turn back time, would I still have done all of this, knowing it might kill me? Honestly, yes. I love what I do – it’s addictive. You just can’t think about it all too much.
Maria Hippolyte, Hackney, London: ‘I wanted to land roles because of my skill, not the colour of my skin’
There was only one black woman on the British Stunt Register when I started out. It wasn’t my first encounter with a glaring lack of diversity. As a circus performer, my previous career, I’d found the exact same problem. After performing three shows a day in the acrobatics show at the Millennium Dome, in the early 2000s I travelled the world with my own circus show, proving there was space for black women in this corner for performance. Later, while I was touring as an acrobat with the BatmanLive show, a friend encouraged me to train for the British Stunt Register – our professional body. I was in my 30s: it was then or never.
Being the second black stunt woman working in the UK, word got around pretty quickly. But I wanted to land jobs because of my skill, not simply the colour of my skin. I did. Soon I was doubling for Teyonah Parris; firing arrows and being hit with a shield by Gal Gadot.
Getting called out to the USA to film Black Panther was a special experience; my first taste of Hollywood. It was incredible. I went from being the only black woman in a stunt team to being surrounded by the most talented group of people who looked like me. I doubled for Lupita Nyong’o. It was a magical time. Days were long; sometimes 12 hours. From dawn into the night, we’d be running across beaches, or kicking, punching and falling. I loved every minute.
And the impact of this movie is still being felt. Black women saw they, too, could lead in an action-packed blockbuster. Now it feels like a time of transition. Today, there are three black women on the UK register. That’s some progress. But there is an influx of others in training now, who’ll hopefully qualify soon. I couldn’t be prouder.
Bobby Holland Hanton, 39, Surrey: ‘I climbed 200ft up the Manhattan Bridge at sunset in a bat suit’
There have been a lot of standout shoots in my career. The Dark Knight Risesone is right up there, a 100ft descender fall on a wire while doubling for Christian Bale as Batman. I then climbed 200ft up the Manhattan Bridge and stood atop it at sunset, in a bat suit, Nolan filming me from a helicopter. That was epic.
My first ever job was pretty special, too. I doubled for Daniel Craig as Bond on Quantum of Solace, aged 23. I made a 7.5m jump, from one balcony to another, in the middle of the night, with no cables, boxes, or safety mats underneath: the shot didn’t allow it.
In 2012, I started to work on Thor. I was down to double Tom Hiddleston originally, but I really wanted to double
Thor, played by Chris Hemsworth. After eight weeks in the gym, I turned up to work a lot bigger than I’d been previously and landed the part.
Chris and I got on straight away: same age, similar sense of humour. He asked if I’d come with him to his next project. And the one after. More than 13 years later, we’ve now done 15 films together. It’s in his contract that I’m his stunt double. I’m there to keep him safe with help from the rest of the stunt team. You develop a deep relationship. He has to trust me.
Weeks before a movie kicks off, the stunt team starts rehearsals and development. Once we’re happy with a scene’s choreography and coordination, I’ll work through it with Chris, working out what he can do, what I’ll do, and how it all fits together. It’s my job to make sure that his performance – our performance – is the best it can be.
I come from a small town on the south coast, and my mum made huge sacrifices to get me involved in gymnastics. Now I’m working on some of the biggest movies of our time and travelling the world while doing it. Whether it’s training hard, honing your skills or pulling off a gag (what we call stunts) it all takes huge amounts of work, massive risks and tests your limits.
Stunt performers are becoming better acknowledged for their contribution to the industry, which is only right. We put our lives at risk for the magic of the cinema.
Nikita Mitchell, 35, Buckinghamshire: ‘The big Ken-on-Ken beach fight scene was nuts and so much fun’
I’m a good size and shape to double – it’s been my bread and butter. Big battles and fight scenes are predominantly men on screen, but times are changing. Should there be more women in those big combat scenes? More swords and shields? Yes please.
Recently, I doubled for Margot Robbie on the Barbie movie. Prep for the movie started in January 2022. As a team we were responsible for testing stunts, sets, scenes and safety for the actors.
As Margot’s double I tested everything that she would film on to ensure it was safe for her – the iconic float down from the top of her lifesize 30ft Barbie house into her baby blue Barbie car included.
During prep we often shoot previs: we shoot a scene in full, action and fights, using stunt performers instead of lead actors to help the director’s vision come to life. On Barbie we helped choreograph the big Ken-onKen – Gosling v Simu Liu – beach fight scene. It was nuts and so much fun.
My journey into stunts began eight years ago. I was training at east London gymnastics, where I met some stunt performers. I immediately realised it was for me: who wouldn’t want to jump off burning buildings and get paid for it?
I decided to train to join the British Stunt Register, which takes years of hard work and dedication. It took me two and a half years in total to complete my training – and that’s considered speedy.
I started out as a professional dancer. It was less of a change than you might imagine. We think of dancers as pretty and delicate, but it’s gruelling, physical work that takes precision and endurance. In many ways, the exact same grit and determination is required in stunt work – just with a few more heights, fights and open fires.
I’ll never forget, on Live and Let Die, driving Bond’s Mini Moke – a tiny car – off a dock into the water
me, I think that would be the height of my career. Who wouldn’t want a sandwich named after them? I do like a straight butter and banana sandwich. It’s incredible. That was one of the culinary highlights of my childhood, with a tin of tomato soup. My father swore the greatest sandwich that he had in his life was whipped cream, banana and sliced ham. I don’t eat meat so I would say whipped cream and banana on a pillowy white bread.
I eat bananas all the time on tour because I don’t like to eat before I play. I usually keep one on my amplifier and it saves the day. I remember seeing Johnny Thunders do a concert in Melbourne. He was literally dying out there and then suddenly this guy appeared in the crowd. The audience parted for him like he was Moses leading the people to the Promised Land, and walked to the middle of the stage. Johnny clocked him and took off to the side of the stage, took his drugs, then came back on stage and shredded out this amazing solo. That’s a bit like my banana.
If you had to fight a famous person, who would it be, how would you fight them and who would win?
[Dirty Three drummer] Jim White, because I like rugby tackling him. I wouldn’t mind a loincloth situation, to do some sumo wrestling with Jim. It’s a pretty terrifying image. I’d like to do it when we’re like 70. There is not going to be a venue big enough. I think I need to put that idea out there now.
Do you believe in extraterrestrial life?
Absolutely. How could you not? It immediately closes off the imagination to something extraordinary. I respect both answers to that question, but ever since I was a kid, the concept of aliens was the most exciting idea to me. I just can’t believe that, for the vastness of everything, we are the only people out there. I believe in ghosts too.
If animals could talk, who would be the nicest?
A whale. I think of them like [Marlon] Brando in The Godfather. He’s got the weight of the world on him. He’s got to decide things. He’s tired, but he’s still trying to do the right thing. There’s a beautiful melancholic mood about him that I think a whale probably has. They just roll around in the darkness, lost in their thoughts. A whale would be very understanding, because it’s such a large creature. It has to be considerate. I think they’d probably make the greatest therapists.
You know, this is the most fun I’ve ever had.
I’m glad. I really hope that some Melbourne sandwich bar reads this and they make your sandwich and name it after you.
I’m thinking Australia-wide. Let’s franchise this out.
• The Dirty Three are playing two shows at Hamer Hall, Melbourne, on 14-15 June, with a third show now added at the Forum on 16 June, as part of Rising festival