Looking back at The Revenge of Rose Grubb, Part Two
If The Governess is about unhealthy love, Grubb is the story of an all consuming hate. It was very nearly called The Poison Tree, in homage to the Blake poem, and to this day I can't think of a better metaphor for the book's central conflict.
The young Rose is that stock figure, a bright working class girl who finds herself catapulted into the glamorous world of private school. In a different narrative she would have won over her critics, scooped all the prizes and eventually become Head Girl.
But she's in another story altogether; this promising, naive girl is transformed by her ordeal into a profoundly difficult, disturbed woman who can't form healthy relationships and always feels as though there's something missing. She is permanently on the outside looking in, full of self loathing and self doubt. Although we have numerous experiences in common, I'm relieved to say she isn't me. Add to an already explosive mix the fact she has magical powers, and anything can happen.
Frances is her dark mirror image. A child genius who is used to having her own way, she develops into a ruthless, duplicitous sociopath who believes that if she doesn't like something, she can make it disappear. She fixates on Rose because she's the one person who refuses to be impressed by her. Although she doesn't have Rose's powers, she does have the gift of making people believe her lies; despite being a despicable human being and multiple murderer, she has recreated herself as a household name and philanthropist.
Of course there are other characters in this turbulent landscape. Gail, Rose's firm but fair northern mum, whose memory keeps her going; Evan, Rose's one true love, a sweet, geeky dreamer who just happens to be Frances's stepbrother and the object of her quasi incestuous passion; Persephone or "Seph", Rose's false friend, who defects to Frances early on. She's been described as 'anaemic' and indeed that's the point - the idea of her is so much more enticing and touching than the reality. I wanted to illustrate a certain kind of adolescent bond that shades into love, where you worship someone for quite fictitious qualities.
These are the leads but I enjoyed writing the sideshow of oddballs, not least mysterious rake Avi, who comes and goes but won't answer any questions about himself.
Aware The Governess's structure had caused confusion, I deliberately simplified Grubb's. Rose's narration may move from present and past and back again, but these shifts are clearly signposted. You're only allowed to see events from her perspective and information is parcelled out so you don't get the full picture till she does.
As well as the inevitable themes of revenge, hate, love and loss, I've tried to examine two others: the devastating effects of bullying and our culture's obsession with celebrities.
It's only now, in this era of greater medical understanding, that bullying is recognised as an evil comparative with abuse or a traumatic event. Many schools fail to deal with the issue - the bully receives a mild slap on the wrist while the victim is transferred, making it seem as though they're the one being punished. The continuous blasts to their confidence cause a victim to become defensive and paranoid and, rather than "toughen them up", leave them vulnerable to the exact same treatment over again. The bully doesn't learn their lesson either; if left unchecked, they'll remain a bully, taking their aggressive and damaging behaviour out into the wider world.
Thankfully the tide is turning, but when I started writing Grubb in 2009, celebrity culture was at its peak - or nadir. Racks bulged with gossip magazines, the best seller lists were clogged with ghost written autobiographies, spurious 'celebrities' (read: reality TV rejects) flooded the airwaves with obnoxious opinions about class, parenting and the rest.
The worrying thing was, people were swallowing this junk. Frances may be an exaggeration, but there were scores of deeply unsavoury characters who could get away with murder because they were famous. At the time of writing, a celebrity covering evil acts with charity work was seen as far fetched; nowadays, not so much. A Brazilian TV star was actually arranging assassinations to boost his show's ratings - a trick I wouldn't put past Frances, if Sewell's Spotlight started to flag.
Writing Grubb was the most cathartic experience of my life. Like Rose, I no longer have bad dreams. Though it might've been a monumental climb, I hope readers enjoy the view.
The young Rose is that stock figure, a bright working class girl who finds herself catapulted into the glamorous world of private school. In a different narrative she would have won over her critics, scooped all the prizes and eventually become Head Girl.
But she's in another story altogether; this promising, naive girl is transformed by her ordeal into a profoundly difficult, disturbed woman who can't form healthy relationships and always feels as though there's something missing. She is permanently on the outside looking in, full of self loathing and self doubt. Although we have numerous experiences in common, I'm relieved to say she isn't me. Add to an already explosive mix the fact she has magical powers, and anything can happen.
Frances is her dark mirror image. A child genius who is used to having her own way, she develops into a ruthless, duplicitous sociopath who believes that if she doesn't like something, she can make it disappear. She fixates on Rose because she's the one person who refuses to be impressed by her. Although she doesn't have Rose's powers, she does have the gift of making people believe her lies; despite being a despicable human being and multiple murderer, she has recreated herself as a household name and philanthropist.
Of course there are other characters in this turbulent landscape. Gail, Rose's firm but fair northern mum, whose memory keeps her going; Evan, Rose's one true love, a sweet, geeky dreamer who just happens to be Frances's stepbrother and the object of her quasi incestuous passion; Persephone or "Seph", Rose's false friend, who defects to Frances early on. She's been described as 'anaemic' and indeed that's the point - the idea of her is so much more enticing and touching than the reality. I wanted to illustrate a certain kind of adolescent bond that shades into love, where you worship someone for quite fictitious qualities.
These are the leads but I enjoyed writing the sideshow of oddballs, not least mysterious rake Avi, who comes and goes but won't answer any questions about himself.
Aware The Governess's structure had caused confusion, I deliberately simplified Grubb's. Rose's narration may move from present and past and back again, but these shifts are clearly signposted. You're only allowed to see events from her perspective and information is parcelled out so you don't get the full picture till she does.
As well as the inevitable themes of revenge, hate, love and loss, I've tried to examine two others: the devastating effects of bullying and our culture's obsession with celebrities.
It's only now, in this era of greater medical understanding, that bullying is recognised as an evil comparative with abuse or a traumatic event. Many schools fail to deal with the issue - the bully receives a mild slap on the wrist while the victim is transferred, making it seem as though they're the one being punished. The continuous blasts to their confidence cause a victim to become defensive and paranoid and, rather than "toughen them up", leave them vulnerable to the exact same treatment over again. The bully doesn't learn their lesson either; if left unchecked, they'll remain a bully, taking their aggressive and damaging behaviour out into the wider world.
Thankfully the tide is turning, but when I started writing Grubb in 2009, celebrity culture was at its peak - or nadir. Racks bulged with gossip magazines, the best seller lists were clogged with ghost written autobiographies, spurious 'celebrities' (read: reality TV rejects) flooded the airwaves with obnoxious opinions about class, parenting and the rest.
The worrying thing was, people were swallowing this junk. Frances may be an exaggeration, but there were scores of deeply unsavoury characters who could get away with murder because they were famous. At the time of writing, a celebrity covering evil acts with charity work was seen as far fetched; nowadays, not so much. A Brazilian TV star was actually arranging assassinations to boost his show's ratings - a trick I wouldn't put past Frances, if Sewell's Spotlight started to flag.
Writing Grubb was the most cathartic experience of my life. Like Rose, I no longer have bad dreams. Though it might've been a monumental climb, I hope readers enjoy the view.
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