Five Questions for Author Jane Urquhart

With award-buzz in the air – she’s on the longlist for the Scotiabank Giller Prize – the author of Sanctuary Line sat down with Athena McKenzie-Parkin to talk politics, butterflies and literary prizes.

Athena McKenzie-Parkin: As a reader, you become so immersed in Liz’s thoughts. As a writer, was it hard to pull back from that when you were done?
Jane Urquhart: Yes, it was particularly hard with this book in that it was filled with revelations for me. I knew vaguely where I was going with it but the ending was horrifically surprising for me. As a result, I didn’t quite know how to get out of that world, because I was pretty devastated. Also, I was really startled by the other revelation that comes at the end of the book and I had not preplanned either one –  although I knew a bit about what the various relationships were going to look like, I didn’t know the details at all.

AMP: So while you are writing, you give yourself some freedom to explore?
JU: I give myself enormous amounts of freedom when I write. I think it has something to do with being a woman and the fact that as a woman I gave myself writing as a recreational treat after doing all the things that I was required to do for other people. This was my own little world that I could move into, sort of like I did as a child -the pretend world, the imaginary world. I viewed writing less as a profession and more as an indulgence. As a result of that, I’ve always given myself more freedom than I might have had I taken myself more seriously in the beginning.

AMP: What drew you to the butterfly motif that is woven through the novel?
JU: What drew me to that was the fact that I live on the south shore of Lake Ontario and have spent every summer of my life there, near Presqu’ile Park. That means that every summer I have been witness to the gathering of the butterflies before they depart for Mexico. Although when I was a child and up until a couple of decades ago, nobody knew where they were going. It took a man named Fred Urquhart, who was a Canadian and not related to me in any way, to find that out, having studied Monarch butterflies all his life. I saw that every summer and it was really a remarkable experience. As time went by and I knew where the butterflies went – or where they came from, depending on your point of view – I also started having my attention drawn to the number of Mexican labourers that were working in and around various produce farms. When this book came along and it was so much about migration in so many ways, I just knew they had to be a part of it.

AMP: Another thing that stood out was the presence of the Highway of Heroes. Why was it important to you to include it in the story?
JU: A number of things. There’s no secret about the fact that Liz’s cousin, our narrator’s cousin, is a young woman recently killed in Afghanistan. And I don’t know if you ever seen one of those corteges on the Highway of Heroes but it is a very moving experience. Partly because it is a folk experience. It isn’t something that has been dictated by any kind of government policy, though the government leapt on it as soon as it could. But originally it was a grassroots thing. People who lived along the edges of the highway came out and I thought it was really something. It was also really something to see the older veterans come out to stand on the overpasses as well as other service groups such as police and firemen and people like that. I found it really much more moving than I thought I would because it also had occurred to me that it is a glorification. I mean, it could be viewed as a glorification of war before I had actually witnessed one. Also, I have to add , I find it a little disturbing that to note that this grassroots reaction didn’t happen until we were in a combat role and many, many of our peacekeepers were killed and came home precisely the same way. I think that’s about my only political remark.

AMP: Some authors have said that winning awards is a mixed blessing. Do you agree with that?
JU: I’ve always been very gratified by being honoured in any way and also, I have to say, quite surprised most of the time because it’s not something I have ever expected to happen. I was never a particularly brilliant student, as any one of my teachers can attest to. And I didn’t expect big achievement to be a part of my life, so it’s a bit of a surprise when it happens. I think the mixed blessing side of it is that not everybody can win an award. It really isn’t a lottery – I’ve been on juries and juries take their job very seriously and are not unaware the side of the job that will have to be hurtful for some people. That’s the mixed part. If you win an award, you cannot help but be aware that there are people who will feel excluded from that experience. Not only do you feel badly for them, you feel a little uncomfortable with what you have been lucky enough to win.

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