We don’t think Nicole Dennis-Benn will ever write a book that is uncomplicated; nor should we ever want her to. In her latest book PATSY, Nicole explores the complexities of motherhood, immigration, blackness, sexuality, class, religion, and mental health, in a story that weaves between mother & daughter.
Photo of Nicole Dennis-Benn by Bashy Magazine
There’s been well-deserved praise for PATSY since the book came out a few months ago. What’s been your favorite response to the book so far?
My favorite response so far has been the messages I get from people, in particular women who have said they, too, weren’t in the emotional space for motherhood but had no one to confess this to; and people- men and women- saying they went through what Tru went through, growing up without their mother and questioning her abandonment. Because in society, we’re so used to fathers leaving or slacking, but not mothers. Mothers aren’t given that grace fathers get. So when those readers tell me that PATSY has helped them not only to voice their feelings about parenthood, but to understand where their mothers were probably coming from, and has helped them to reconcile with her truths, it warms my heart.
On the surface, PATSY is largely promoted as a novel on immigration, but when you read it you understand that the story is about so much more.
PATSY is definitely more than an immigrant narrative. However, it’s the nature of marketing to put books in categories that would get people to buy it. However, once they do buy and open any of my books, it becomes a Pandora’s box. When I sat down to write Patsy, yes, the first thing that came out was her constant awe of her new life in America. But the more I got to know her as a character, the more I realize that her story is a complex and extremely complicated one. Unlike any other immigrant narrative, Patsy’s reason for leaving is not an altruistic one. She’s leaving for what would be considered “selfish” reasons: she’s leaving to rekindle her relationship with her childhood best friend, Cicely; she’s leaving with hopes of having better opportunities; and deep down, she’s leaving to escape the role of motherhood. The question I posed and sought to answer in this book for myself is “what do we lose (or gain) when we choose ourselves?” This question becomes more poignant as a black woman given that we’ve always been considered as mothers and caretakers. I wanted to write the working-class black woman who dares to defy all that. I left it up to Patsy and Tru to define themselves in a world eager to define them. I also tap into mental health, in particular, depression and postpartum depression- another narrative that gets left out in the discussion of my book on a larger scale.
PATSY, just like your debut, stays true to Jamaican patois in conversations, and Ms. Lou would probably be proud.
“If I’m committed to writing my people on the page, then there’s no way I could do so without our language. ”
I was told growing up to never speak patois in public. It was something to be ashamed of, especially at school where teachers would punish us for it. I never knew then how unfair this was- to tell people that we couldn’t speak our own language. In high school I simply acquiesced to the culture of speaking only the “Queens English”. I was so good at it that my classmates thought I was uptown and never would’ve guessed I lived in Vineyard Town. And in Vineyard Town, I was somewhat odd with my speech as I grew sloppy at code switching. I wore the mask for so long that I didn’t realize that I swallowed my identity. It wasn’t until I became a writer that I began to reclaim the language I could no longer speak, though I think in patois, dream in patois, and write patois. At one point I became furious that it was stolen from me. Language is identity and for a long time I existed with a void. It became important for me to write it down in order to never forget it. It was also impossible to not write patois spoken between my Jamaican characters. It’s who we are. If I’m committed to writing my people on the page, then there’s no way I could do so without our language. My advice to young writers is to stay true to yourself and to your characters. The world will catch up.
A must-have playlist capturing the essence of Nicole Dennis-Benn's novel, PATSY (Norton/Liveright 2019).
Which songs would be on a PATSY playlist?
Life We Living by Vybz Kartel
Untold Stories by Buju Banton
Wrong Address by Etana
Black Hypocrisy by Spice
***I actually have a whole PATSY playlist with a lot more songs on my website!
It’s rare to find Jamaican novels that have gender non-conforming characters. What was your inspiration for Tru and how did you go about your research?
I really wanted to capture the narrative of the child left behind. For Tru, I wanted to increase the stakes with another complicated subplot- her inability to conform to her mother’s expectations of her. The last thing Patsy said to Tru before she left was “Be a good, obedient girl and I’ll be back for you.” This promise is not only a lie, but a trap. Imagine being told this at a young age, believing that if you’re not that “good, obedient girl” then your mother won’t come back. I took it farther by having Tru grow into something completely different, harboring both resentment and guilt.
The research for Tru was straightforward. I spoke to acquaintances who felt the way Tru felt in school - having to wear a uniform that didn’t quite represent their gender identity. Of course, we didn’t have the language “gender non conforming” then as teenagers; and I certainly didn’t put that language in the book since Tru doesn’t have the language for it either.
You write ‘place’ so well, Brooklyn and Kingston are so different yet similar and you managed to capture their nuances so well. How did you go about capturing the rhythm of each city?
Brooklyn happens to be my current home; but Kingston was my home before that, and continues to be an important place where I go to visit family and friends and memories. So capturing them on the page was the easy part.
You’ve mentioned many times the influence Toni Morrison has had on your writing and your introduction to literature, how do you feel about her passing?
“Toni successfully passed the torch to us, the next generation of black women writers.”
Toni Morrison brought me to literature. Before her, I had no knowledge of black writers, much less black female writers. In high school the only writer of color and of Caribbean decent I was taught was VS Naipaul. Toni Morrison’s work meant a lot in my development as a writer. When she passed, I felt grief. But it quickly dissipated the moment I realized that she left a good legacy behind. Toni successfully passed the torch to us, the next generation of black women writers.
Speed Round
Which woman or queer person is currently inspiring you right now?
Jacqueline Woodson
Currently reading?
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal by Jeanette Winterson
Physical book, ebook, or audiobook?
Physical book
Favourite literary character?
Sula
The last amazing book you read?
Heavy by Kiese Laymon