Aislinn Hunter Weaves Haunting Memories in Her Historical Mystery The World Before Us
It’s not every day your novel gets compared to Booker Prize winners and critically acclaimed plays, but this is the reality for Aislinn Hunter. The World Before Us, Hunter’s new book, attests to the author, poet and professor’s overwhelming competence in each of her professions. Her novel follows Jane Standen, whose archival work in a London museum brings back painful memories of losing the five-year-old child she was babysitting during a walk in the woods 20 years earlier. Jane’s research uncovers another missing person case in the same woods 100 years ago, linking characters across time in a historical mystery. The prose is lyrical, the plot is enthralling and its historical diversions speak to Hunter’s dedication to extensive research.
Paste caught up with Hunter to chat about writing a novel with multiple perspectives, the prevalence of memory in her work and what it’s like to be compared to literary greats.
Paste: There are multiple plot lines and sets of characters throughout the novel. Did one plot line occur to you first?
Hunter: I had the near-contemporary plot line first: the idea of Jane, at 15, walking in the woods with a five-year-old girl who goes missing on the walk. I also knew from the start that the trail they’d be walking on was one that had been planted a hundred years before by a Victorian plant hunter who’d lived on a nearby estate. The asylum storyline came a year into the first draft—and quite suddenly—when I happened upon a letter written by the real-life Lord Tennyson about a visit that two asylum patients paid to his estate house in 1877. I read the letter and saw the whole first chapter unfold like a film. Things grew from there—though I pared a few storylines back toward the end of the writing process. At the edges of the book, for example, is a back-story that took place in 19th century India involving Farrington’s porter. I cut that in the end but still sometimes feel its shadowy presence.
I remember hearing an interview with Michael Ondaatje once where he was discussing a scene from one of his novels, I think it was In the Skin of a Lion. At one point, he confounded the interviewer by talking about a particular event in the book, and then he realized, through her confusion, that he’d actually cut the whole storyline he was talking about out—and that that particular story only existed in the world of his book for him. I have a few plotlines that are like that for me.
Paste: You eventually tie all of the storylines together. What’s that process like? Do you improvise or is there a good deal of outlining before you’ve started writing the actual prose?
Hunter: In the beginning, I just follow those aspects of the story that interest me. I don’t know why—maybe because I’m also a poet—but I seem to have a very hard time leaving a page that reads like a first draft and moving on to the next page. This means I’m revising for language from the get-go. I tend not to know how a book will end until I get there, and usually by the time I get there the preceding pages have already been revised upwards of 500 times. This makes the kinds of cuts I described above a bit wrenching.
For a good part of the revision process for this book, I sat under a wall covered in sticky notes—different colors for different timelines; tiered notes for various plots to keep the momentum going in each story. With a structure as complicated as mine (three timelines and a large cast of characters), I really had to be organized about what was happening and when. So improvisation went out the window.
Paste: Jane is a strong yet shaken protagonist. Did you draw any inspiration from any other literary characters when creating her?
Hunter: At the same time as I was writing The World Before Us I was working on a PhD on Victorian writers’ houses and museums, so I was reading a lot of the Brontës when I was working on the book—Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights and also Charlotte’s letters. The juxtaposition was useful, because I was interested in the way the sisters handled their genre—that crafty supernaturalism they write so wonderfully. So, there is probably an ounce or two of Charlotte’s governess Jane (from Jane Eyre) in my Jane. Both of them have come through difficult events in their childhood. Both are, I think, a bit untrusting but still hopeful.