Service - Sarah Gilmartin

This is a story told from three different perspectives. So it presents very much as a character driven novel. But to achieve this Sarah Gilmartin has had to get under the skin of three very different people and to examine the same situation from their varying points of view. The setting is a Michelin starred restaurant. The first thing that struck me whilst reading was the portrayal of life in a high-end restaurant and kitchen. I found myself wondering if this author had waitressed in such an establishment. That was whilst I read Hannah‘s first chapter. Then when I read Daniel’s first chapter, I pondered whether this writer had also been a chef in a busy eatery!! But when I read Julie‘s chapter I surmised that this novelist may even have been married to a successful chef and restauranteur. And that’s perhaps my long winded way of saying that the research is impeccable with a most convincing narrative. You can feel the heat of the kitchen and the tension among the staff as they all rally to produce the most perfect service.

It’s a slow burn narrative, that feeds us, mouthful by mouthful, the stories of all three protagonists. Chef Daniel has been accused of sexual assault. Hannah hears about this and recalls her time in his restaurant. Wife Julie looks back over the years she spent at Daniel’s side, the lives they have built with their children. 

The story develops, powerfully, and examines issues of what is acceptable behaviour, and what is not, and from whose standpoint. Initially their accounts are perfectly plausible, perfectly believable. So is somebody lying? You don’t get that impression to begin with so you’re constantly wondering is there anybody here whose objectivity may be flawed?

But as the story progresses things seem to become clearer. Or does that depend on the reader’s point of view? I found myself becoming more and more sympathetic to Hannah. And I found myself becoming more and more critical of Daniel and convinced of his guilt. And I found myself commiserating with Julie and her sons.

Daniel seems to feel that as some kind of culinary genius, he is entitled to allowances for his behaviour. He also seems to feel that people are against him. Julie finds herself beginning to question and doubt the entire fabric upon which their relationship has developed. Poor Hannah has clearly been damaged by her experience. I’m not wishing to detail what’s happened because I don’t want to offer any spoilers.

It’s very much a novel of our times. You can’t help but think of the whole #MeToo movement amidst recent exposures and rightful condemnation of sexual harassment and abuse that’s been uncovered in past decades. So it’s not a comfortable read. There are no winners at the end, regardless of the outcome of any court cases. But I guess it is a story that needs to be told. There are situations here that need to be propelled into a wider consciousness, so that perhaps it may have an impact on whether such behaviours continue to happen. 

I thought it extremely well written. Very tight and well constructed plot. The exposition was controlled and skilful creating a compelling story.

My thanks to Kate Wilkinson at Pushkin Press for a gifted proof.

I had a burning question to put to the author. She was good enough to spare time from her busy schedule to answer me. I’m very grateful and to Kate Wilkinson for facilitating.

Three protagonists, three points of view. To do that, you must have had to get under the skin of very different people coming to the situation from different perspectives. I was wondering how you did that? And I was wondering about the types of research you must have needed to do in order to achieve it?

 As a writer I’m drawn to ambivalence, ambiguity, grey areas. I’m curious about how people work, how they behave under pressure, when they think no one is watching, our public and private selves, all of that is the bones of literature. I wanted to tell a story about the abuse of power from different perspectives as I felt it was a subject that could potentially have multiple interpretations. I was interested in nuance and in leaving enough space for the reader to make up their own mind. 

 

With Julie, I was struck that when you hear or read about MeToo stories in the media, one person you never or rarely hear from is the partner of the abuser. Certainly they’re not the most important voice in the scenario – the victim is – but you do think, or least I do, what must it feel like for the partner of the predator? A woman whose life is being ripped apart in a different way by the same man. I wanted to know more about women in this position. In their own words. With Hannah, we have a different, younger, in some ways closer-to-the-action female perspective. Although she’s in her 30s now, in many ways Hannah is stuck in the past, her summer at the restaurant, as survivors of trauma often are, trying to get on with things but being continually brought back to the point where their lives were derailed. She’s also our guide to the restaurant world, which can often be very colourful and entertaining. Finally with Daniel, for me the story didn’t feel cohesive without his perspective. He was a compelling character to write, a talented man, celebrated in his field, who has clearly defined private and public personas, and an aura of false humility; he’s a self-fashioned art monster. Then on another level, he’s a predator, with a huge amount of ego and vanity.

 

All three characters were interesting to me in their own right, which is key, and then they also had important things to contribute with regards to the subject matter of the book. I didn’t do a huge amount of research – read a lot about MeToo in the media, watched some Masterchef – but I worked as a waitress myself in my 20s so had a good idea of the world, the highs and lows, stresses and perks. Characters, once I have an idea of who they are, how they operate and what they want, tend to grow organically on the page. That’s the beauty of fiction!