Bina
Page 17
*2 Not the dead brother, Eddie’s father. Another brother. It gets very complicated with all these brothers I’m sorry. There are eight of them in that family. All avoiding each other. I can’t keep track of them.
*3 If I am asked in the court it’ll be awkward.
*4 He was very unreliable.
*5 Or whomever he owed money to in Waterford.
*6 I’d better start writing the truth: before he crashed his motorbike DELIBERATELY into my wall and landed in my ditch.
*7 A man had visited me. He was very unpleasant. Moody and grim. He was probably the criminal. The owner of the waste. (If he calls again, he’ll not leave without taking a few bags of it with him.)
*8 I have no children at all. Just random adults who glue themselves to me.
*9 The Kind Crustie was not a curious man, I admired this about him. You’ll tell me anything you want me to know, he had said, and if you don’t tell me it there’s no need for me to ask about it.
*10 It’s going to be bad. It’s going to be very bad. Phil and I will be reduced to mucky, cold headlines.
*11 They can’t close down quick enough for me. They are full of awful men called John and Andrew.
*12 I might buy a tea towel with Einstein on it. Every time I look at it, I’ll remember it was he helped me with the remembering.
*13 Forget that. No point. No tea towels needed nor allowed in prison.
*14 There is no Phil to phone anymore. It was always Phil I phoned.
*15 He was very like my teeth. They would hurt for three days in a row, then stop. Mr. Bowie would visit three times in the one week, then I’d never know if he’d reappear. He was a great distraction to the shoulder and the teeth.
*16 Or they get the sort of sentences more appropriate for stealing a bag of frozen peas.
*17 We didn’t trust the tea in that pub.
*18 Scampering around, bending up and down uncomfortably in the mud and falling over would be a better description.
*19 I’m very talented at inviting trouble upon myself. This is a warning. Get a hobby so your hands are kept busy & away from all invitations.
INDEX OF WARNINGS
If you ever see a person lying in a ditch, drive straight past them as fast as you can.
He might not be a nice lad.
She might not be a nice woman.
If a man comes to your door, do not open it.*
Old women have more to do than stand around.
Do not give a lend of your bread knife.
Do not open your hearth.
Do not open your heart.
Do not believe the common declaration: All he/she needs is a bang on the head.
Leave the man on the mat.
Don’t do the things you’re not supposed to do.
Say No.
Practise saying No.
Do not borrow a handkerchief
Watch your phone.
Careful on the internets.
Watch your phone, did I already say that one? If so I’m saying it twice.
Say what should have been said, even after the fact. (From here to there.)
Watch the language
Pay attention to the letters (Scrabble)
People might ask you to do difficult things.
Always have a chat to yourself.
A chat can put a stop to it.
Weather can surprise you!
Write it down. All of it. Record it the way I am doing for you.
If you cannot remember, write it down, then tell someone where it is written down if you cannot remember where.
Do not write down unnecessary explanations about the things you do not want people to know. This is a bad idea.
Do not talk to the papers, even if it is just a survey on smoking.
Listen out for warnings in people’s remarkings.
Write down the names of people saying clever things on the radio.
Keep an eye open for spies.
Don’t make a decision if the tea does not taste right.
They need a warrant to search your house.
You’ll never be shut of the troublemakers.
You never get past the loss of those you actually love.
Troublemakers do not need a warrant to ruin your life.
Chancers are hard to put down.
You might not read a word I’ve written here.
You’ll know when you’ve had enough.
* Unless it’s David Bowie.
In
Loving
Memory
of
Carol Mary Critchley
I most gratefully acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the BC Arts Council and The Writers Trust Woodcock Fund, the Writers Union, and the many libraries, writers’ festivals, universities and communities who have hosted readings—as well as every reader who ever read one of my books. I am immensely appreciative of your engagement with my work.
Thank you: Thalia Field, mighty first reader, epic writer, and brilliant friend.
Thank you: to Lynn Henry for such dedication and patience, Kelly Hill for the genius cover design, Emily Donaldson for the copy edit + laughter, Rick, Trish + Sharon for all else. To Alba Ziegler-Bailey, Sarah Chalfant, Ekin Oklap at the Wylie Agency in London for daily, and sometimes hourly, support, and the most intelligent and insightful readings of my work. To Eimear McBride, Rachel Cusk, Eden Robinson for reading Bina and offering the warmest of words and giving me courage. To Arabella Campbell for the photos. Thanks for helpful discussions: Dr. Sue Hughson, Shanaaz Gokool, Margaret McPhee (RIP), and my fellow volunteer witnesses in the Vancouver Chapter of Dying with Dignity. Thank you, also, Dr Zareena Abidin for natter and badminton.
To Dan Wells at Biblioasis for continuing to be the most decent of human beings. To the Simon Fraser University English Department for letting me teach a course in Experimental Fiction.
Bina is a novel about friendship—specifically, female friendship. I am extremely blessed to have women friends in various time zones who are far too good to me. Go raibh míle to Edel Connor, Cathy Dillon, Niamh + Grace Barrett and Mary McCarthy. For literary companionship during the long, difficult periods of writing any book, many thanks to Yewande Omotoso, Sinéad Gleeson, Doireann Ní Ghríofa, Joanna Walsh, Greg McCormick and Marina Roy. Acá en Canada gracias a mi hermana porteña Anabella Forte, hermano Fouad Matar, beloved amiga Julie Okot Bitek, Marina Roy, GJ, and my Irish gang here in Vancouver, Ita, Tara, Tracey, Siobhán, Alison, Joan et al. To Suzu Matsuda + Larry Cohen, who continuously love and support my son. To my mother, Hannah, who is the greatest of storytellers herself, + my sister, who owns the best greyhounds in Dublin. I owe much to so many; therefore, if you are reading this, consider yourself among the thanked.
The original idea for Bina came from a mention of her in a review of my first novel Malarky by the Irish journalist Joanne Hayden.
Thank you to the many healthcare workers, palliative nurses, social workers and doctors who provide care and dignity for the dying and those suffering. To all those brave souls who fought tough legal cases that led to the MAID program in Canada. For more information about MAID in Canada, please visit: https://www.dyingwithdignity.ca
Finally merci a million to my lovely son, Cúán Isamu, who uses too much electricity, cooks a mean chilli and is a great laugh. Mo cheol thú!
ANAKANA SCHOFIELD is the author of the acclaimed, Giller Prize–shortlisted novel Martin John (2015), which was also a finalist for the Ethel Wilson Fiction Prize, the Goldsmiths Prize in the UK, a New York Times Editors’ Choice, and named a best book of the year by the Wall Street Journal, The Globe and Mail, National Post, Sunday Business Post, Toronto Star, and The Irish Times, among others. Her debut novel Malarky (2012) won the Amazon.ca First Novel Award, the Debut-Litzer Prize for Fiction in the United States, and was a finalist for the Ethel Wilson Fiction Prize. Her writing and reviews have appeared in The Guardian, The Irish Times, The Globe and Mail, National Post, London Review of Books blog, and Th
e Long Gaze Back: An Anthology of Irish Women Writers. She lives in Vancouver, British Columbia.