- You use two teenage girls as characters, and though they are widely separated by time and circumstances, they share some things. Could you talk about that?
- Why did Maisie have to die?
- Why didn’t you show the reunion between Vivian and Sarah?
- Did you know where Vivian’s journey would take her when you began the book?
- Vivian has lost all the ones she loved. Her family. And then, years later, her beloved man and her daughter, too. How can a person, first as an orphan and then as a widow, find the strength to go on when all seems ruined?
- What character trait did you most identify with in Vivian?
- Do you consider Vivian a survivor or a victim? Why? Why not?
- Of the situations Vivian faced, which was the hardest to write about, and why?
- Why did Vivian give away her daughter?
- If you had stolen a book when you were Molly’s age, what book might it have been?
- The Byrnes, with their in-home sewing business, are particularly interesting characters. What inspired you to create them?
- You use two teenage girls as characters, and though they are widely separated by time and circumstances, they share some things. Could you talk about that?
When you write novels you go on instinct much of the time. As I began writing about Molly, a 17-year-old Penobscot Indian foster child, believe it or not I didn’t immediately notice parallels to Vivian, a wealthy 91-year-old widow. But as I wrote my way into the narrative I could see that in addition to some biographical parallels – both characters have dead fathers and institutionalized mothers; both were passed from home to home and encountered prejudice because of cultural stereotypes; both held onto talismanic keepsakes from family members – they are psychologically similar. For both of them, change has been a defining principle; from a young age, they had to learn to adapt, to inhabit new identities. They’ve spent much of their lives minimizing risk, avoiding complicated entanglements, and keeping silent about the past. It’s not until Vivian – in answer to Molly’s pointed questions – begins to face the truth about what happened long ago that both of them have the courage to make changes in their lives.
- Why did Maisie have to die?
I hated that Maisie had to die, and I had originally planned that she wouldn’t die, but as I was researching the book it seemed to defy probability that there would be a healthy 83-year-old woman and a healthy 91-year-old woman and that they would get together and everything would be fine. As I got closer to that moment, I realized that even though it was sad that Maisie had died, it cleared the way for Vivian to have a reunion with her own daughter, which suddenly occurred to me later as I was writing the book and I love the way that story unfolded.
- Why didn’t you show the reunion between Vivian and Sarah?
When I wrote the last scene, I was living in London for the summer and I had this weekend that I had set aside completely and I thought, “I’m just not going to leave my apartment – I’m going to stay here until this scene is done.” I had a vision of a young woman – Vivian’s daughter – walking up a path, but I didn’t know if she would end up in the house or if I would write more… As I wrote the scene, I realized that the fact that Vivian was standing on the porch, and her daughter, who was a little ambivalent, was by the car but that this granddaughter came running up felt like the perfect end for me. There were multiple generations, there was hope in it, I felt it was clear that the daughter and Vivian were going to need a little bit of time to understand how their relationship would unfold, and I also felt that it was really clear that this granddaughter and Vivian would have a reunion that was unfiltered, clear, and clean, and immediately connect, and that felt like the perfect way to end.
Molly and Vivian are separated by more than 70 years but they are necessary to each other. In order to restore a kind of balance in their lives. I find their relation moving, touchy and really helpful to understand that people can be closer than it might seem at first sight. Do you agree?
Yes, I do. When you write novels you go on instinct much of the time. As I began writing about Molly, a 17-year-old Penobscot Indian foster child, believe it or not I didn’t immediately notice parallels with Vivian, a wealthy 91-year-old widow. But as I wrote my way into the narrative I could see that in addition to some biographical parallels – both characters have dead fathers and institutionalized mothers; both were passed from home to home and encountered prejudice because of cultural stereotypes; both held onto talismanic keepsakes from family members – they are psychologically similar. For both of them, change has been a defining principle; from a young age, they had to learn to adapt, to inhabit new identities. They’ve spent much of their lives minimizing risk, avoiding complicated entanglements, and keeping silent about the past. It’s not until Vivian – in answer to Molly’s pointed questions – begins to face the truth about what happened long ago that both of them have the courage to make changes in their lives.
The necklaces the women wear become the catalyst for connection between them, though I didn’t originally intend to give both of them necklaces with metaphorical significance. In my research I learned that though children weren’t allowed to bring anything with them on the orphan trains, some did smuggle small keepsakes. These became increasingly important to them as the years went by. In Galway I went into the small corner shop where the Claddagh, a traditional Irish emblem with two hands encircling a heart, was invented and realized that I’d found my Irish-immigrant character Vivian’s keepsake. Later, researching Maine Penobscot Indian legends, I discovered that certain animals – a fish, a raven, a bear – have specific powers and talismanic significance. These, I knew, would be important to my half-Native American character, Molly.
- Did you know where Vivian’s journey would take her when you began the book?
I had a plan for the novel, but as we all know, the best-laid plans … While I was researching the orphan trains I jotted down ideas that particularly interested me, and when I started writing I had a good sense of the arc of the story. The part that changed the most was the final third of the book. I knew there would be a reunion of some kind, but I wasn’t sure whether it would be with Maisie or May/Sarah. And I didn’t know whether Molly would be present. I had to write my way toward the major scenes of conflict before I understood the characters’ motivations enough to decide how they would react in a given situation. For example, I originally thought that Molly — despondent over coming to the end of her time with Vivian and wanting some kind of memento — would steal Vivian’s necklace, and that Dina would find it, (rightfully) accuse her of stealing, and throw her out of the house. By the time I got to that point in the novel, I knew that Molly would never do that to Vivian; they had become too close. It made more sense for Vivian to give Molly the book and for Dina to wrongly accuse her of stealing it.
- Vivian has lost all the ones she loved. Her family. And then, years later, her beloved man and her daughter, too. How can a person, first as an orphan and then as a widow, find the strength to go on when all seems ruined?
Most people are remarkably resilient. Even those who have been through war or great loss often find reservoirs of strength. But the legacy of trauma is a heavy burden to bear. I wanted to write about how traumatic events beyond our control can shape and define our lives. “People who cross the threshold between the known world and that place where the impossible does happen discover the problem of how to convey that experience,” the novelist Kathryn Harrison wrote. Over the course of Orphan Train Vivian moves from shame about her past to acceptance, eventually coming to terms with what she’s been through. In the process she learns about the regenerative power of claiming – and telling – one’s life story.
- What character trait did you most identify with in Vivian?
Perseverance —a pretty good trait for any writer (or orphan train rider) to have.
- Do you consider Vivian a survivor or a victim? Why? Why not?
She, like most of us, contains multitudes. She is both.
- Why did Vivian give away her daughter?
There are a number of reasons Vivian gave up her daughter — and truthfully, if I could, I would do a better job of articulating them in the novel. First, Vivian was despondent over Dutchy’s death; she was grieving, vulnerable, and alone. Though Mrs. Nielsen has been kind, and loving in her way, she was not a nurturing presence. Vivian didn’t trust that she had the capacity to take care of a child on her own, without the ballast of a loving husband. Second, as Vivian says she didn’t want, “”ever again, to experience the loss of someone I love beyond reason.”” Every person who had mattered deeply in her life had been taken away: her grandmother, her parents, her sister, Dutchy. Vivian was afraid that if she allowed herself to love this baby she would be setting herself up for another profound loss. And finally — a number of train riders told me that they were afraid of becoming parents because they had no model for how to be good ones. They had been abused, abandoned, and put to work. Like children of alcoholics who fear becoming alcoholics themselves, and children of abuse who worry that they will become perpetrators, Vivian was terrified that not having grown up in a stable, nurturing environment, she wouldn’t know how to create one herself.
- Of the situations Vivian faced, which was the hardest to write about, and why?
The ending was the hardest scene to write. (Spoiler alert!) I was living in London for the summer and I set aside an entire weekend, thinking, “I’m just not going to leave my apartment – I’m going to stay here until this scene is done.”” I had a vision of a young woman – Vivian’s daughter – walking up a path, but I didn’t know if she would end up in the house or if I would write more. As I wrote the scene, Vivian was standing on the porch and her daughter, who was a little ambivalent, was by the car — and her granddaughter came running up. There were multiple generations, there was hope; I felt it was clear that the daughter and Vivian were going to need a little bit of time to figure out how their relationship would unfold. I also felt that it was clear that this granddaughter and Vivian would connect in a way that was unfiltered, clear, and clean. That felt like the perfect way to end.
- If you had stolen a book when you were Molly’s age, what book might it have been?
I did not need to steal a book; my parents were professors and thrust books into my hands at every opportunity. But I remember being utterly undone by Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being when I was about 17. I would’ve stolen that book, no question.
- The Byrnes, with their in-home sewing business, are particularly interesting characters. What inspired you to create them?
Most of the people who took in orphan train riders did so because they needed free labor — farmers and others who ran cottage industries. Many people in the Midwest at this time had in-home businesses; sewing was a common one. I read many stories of train riders who lived and worked in homes like the Byrnes’.