Kerry Hudson interview: 'To keep writing is a dream come true'
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Version 0 of 1. A few years ago, while living in east London, Kerry Hudson began noticing a man who lived in the council block opposite. "There was a big burly guy in a tracksuit," she says, "who'd come out every day and water this single rosebush. Then, in the afternoon, he'd scatter Mother's Pride for the birds. He was such a big guy and it was quite gentle, what he was doing – and so I was kind of fascinated by him." That fascination has found its way into Hudson's second novel, Thirst, the tender, off-kilter love story of Dave, a department store security guard to whom, like the man watering his roses, there is a lot more than meets the eye; and Alena, the homeless Siberian woman Dave detains for shoplifting. Alternating between their points of view, the novel paints a vivid picture of two very different kinds of misfit, falling in love over one dusty, teeming London summer. It marks a departure for Hudson, whose first novel, the extravagantly titled Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma – "I've had a lot of people," she admits with a smile, "protesting that it's impossible to tweet" – drew on her experience of growing up in a succession of estates and B&Bs, along a juddering route from Aberdeen to Great Yarmouth. The book's success would exceed the dreams of most debut novelists – it won the Scottish First Book award and was nominated for five others. But it seems to have come as a particular surprise to Hudson, who devoured library books as a child – "I was indiscriminate," she says. "I loved Truman Capote, Mary Higgins Clark, Point Horror" – but never considered writing as a potential career. "I might as well have said that I was going to go on a rocket to Mars," she explains. "From that background, it was just not something you did." Hudson's key interest as a writer lies in exploring the lives of people at the margins of society; in these times, that feels like a potent political statement. "The demonisation of the working class does exist," she says, "and it's infuriating. I'd hope that [my work] makes people a bit more compassionate about the people it's easy to dismiss. One of the nicest things someone told me was that her dad was a really hardcore conservative, but he read Tony Hogan… and it changed his opinion just a little bit." She is currently living in Berlin, where she plans to set part of her third novel. She's missing London, but loving the German capital – "It's got loads of culture, it's really liberal – and it's a little bit cheaper, which is helpful if you're trying to make a living as a full-time writer." That she may simply continue to do that is, Hudson says, the sum of her ambitions. "In this climate, just to be able to keep writing is the best thing you could hope for. As far as I'm concerned, that's a dream come true." Thirst is published by Chatto & Windus on Thursday (£12.99). |