Overview
I first encountered Edna O’Brien on a pleasant spring evening in 2009. We were at a party celebrating Seamus Heaney’s 70th birthday. I rushed to hail a taxi, and a sleek black cab stopped. As I opened the door, Edna emerged like Ophelia from a tranquil brook, stunning in black velvet with her hair impeccably styled. After a brief tiff with the driver, she turned to me, took my hand, and exclaimed in a spirited manner:
“I fucking hate the English. Do you?”
“Not unceasingly,” I replied with a smile.
“You’re that Scottish boy,” she recognized me.
“And you’re that country girl.”
I suggested, “How about I invite you to dinner on Tuesday?”
“Where?” she inquired.
“The Wolseley?”
“Perfect. Ask for the corner table. Lucian Freud’s table. If he’s not there, they always give it to me.”
Why It Matters
This marked the beginning of a vibrant friendship grounded in laughter and shared experiences. When we met for dinner, Edna was draped in even more of her whimsical attire. As we settled in at the painter’s table, she ordered a Sancerre, and we immediately dove into discussions ranging from childhood and love to our shared heritages of Ireland and Scotland, and even the works of Harold Pinter. Throughout the meal, Edna playfully dismissed the waiter’s attempts to take our order until I intervened, insisting we try “the small potato.”
“Sorry, madam?” the confused waiter replied. “How about steak tartare? A soufflé, maybe?”
“In Ireland, Scotland, there was a terrible famine,” Edna declared. “It’s all the same. And these small potatoes make all the difference.”
As the evening unfolded, our conversation flowed effortlessly. Edna shared her desire to change publishers and agents, while captivating me with her remarkable storytelling talent. For the next fifteen years, we leaned on each other, completing thoughts that were too difficult to articulate alone. Her sense of humor was ever-present, even amidst her insecurities as a writer.
Key Takeaways
Edna had a palpable sense of urgency regarding her work and friendships, often oscillating between joy and anxiety. During a memorable outing to see a production of Beckett’s Endgame, her exuberance was unmistakable, even as she voiced concerns about a critic’s review. “As if I don’t have enough to worry about,” she said as we navigated the crowd, her spirit shining through her anxieties.
Years later, I accompanied Edna on a tour of County Clare, her childhood home. She expressed sadness about how much had changed. “I couldn’t write about it now,” she lamented. On the way to her final resting place, she reflected on the beauty of her desired burial site, Holy Island, a place she believed was isolated and serene.
Even towards the end of her life, Edna retained an unwavering spirit. In May 2023, she expressed concern about her condition, yet we shared laughter over champagne. She recounted fond memories of Richard Burton and humorous anecdotes that revealed her brilliant, complex nature. Edna understood her legacy and insisted that I write candidly about her after she was gone.
Final Thoughts
Edna O’Brien was more than an influential writer; she was a vibrant force of nature, deeply understanding the essence of friendship and creativity. As I reflected on our time together, it became clear how her words and character had shaped not only her own journey but also the lives of those around her. Her final wishes resonate with the richness of a life well-lived, reminding us of the profound connections we forge through love and friendship.
