Welcome back, Liz. We’re on Part 2 of our Writers Chat about “Aftershock” (Turas Press: Dublin, 2025). Part 1 can be read here.
SG: One of the standout take aways from Aftershock was the human need for the answer to that three-letter question why! Dom Sebastião searches for technical and structural answers to the natural disasters (“nothing must be allowed to obstruct this rebirth”) whilst also mercilessly searching for the traitors who plotted to assassinate the king; Father Malagrida tries to increase his power and influence over the vulnerable by preaching that these disasters happened because of God’s wrath on the people of Lisbon (“Lisbon is paying for the sins of her people.”)
It seems these two men epitomise philosophies of the day. Were you also looking for answers through this character-driven plot which explores societal beliefs and structures in late 18th – Century Portugal?
LMcS: I agree with you that Dom Sebastião and Father Malagrida embody two diametrically opposed world views regarding the ‘why’ of the disaster – belief in reason and science as an approach to investigating the causes; and submission to the Divine Will. This was a real polemic of the day, though in practice, many people imbued with the principles of the Enlightenment also considered themselves good Catholics. But there is no doubt that this clash of world views existed at the time. It still exists, in many parts of the world.
What makes this question so crucial in the context of the novel is that these opposing world views not only insist on two conflicting stories regarding the origins and reasons for the earthquake happening, but flowing from that, opposing views about the response human beings should have to it. Some of the most extreme of the clergy, including Father Malagrida, insisted that believers must submit to the Will of God and pray for mercy for their sins, a position which not only did not aid the rescue and recovery efforts, but in some cases actually obstructed it. The spirit of scientific enquiry, in contrast, sets out to rebuild and also, to devise ways of safeguarding against future events of the kind. Dom Sebastião really did conduct an extensive survey – today we would call it qualitative research – that asked survivors in great detail about the phenomena they experienced. This was one of the earliest systematic data-gathering studies of earthquake effects, and a significant precursor to modern seismology. He also oversaw the design of earthquake-resistant buildings that used an internal wooden frame – not so different from the principles used today.
The other aspect of the ‘why’ of the novel concerns the motivations of some of the characters – why they acted as they did. In spite of the vast amount of documentation and information about the ascendancy of the Marquis of Pombal before and especially, in the years after the earthquake, there are still many, many unanswered questions about how and why events unfolded as they did.. For example – why did the king, on the night of the attempted assassination, decide to travel in a different carriage? And why did the nobility misjudge and colossally underestimate Dom Sebastiao? And more – all question that came to me as I was researching and writing. I did not try to provide answers to those questions but rather, allowed them to remain, for the reader to ponder. I think Chekhov would approve of my decision – didn’t he say something about the function of art being to ask questions, rather than answer them?
SG: I particularly enjoyed the descriptive language of Aftershock which serves to illuminate period detail and the landscape of the novel. We have the lush language used to describe the earthquake (through the eyes of Dom Sebastião); in “Living The Shock,” a beautifully crafted chapter which explores the impact of the disasters through a number of characters, we have descriptions that are as strong and impactful as the fire and flood they depict:
“There must be shelter, some corner or cellar, no, a place in the open air, the very centre of the square, perhaps, where tumbling debris may not reach. But now, through the swirling darkness, the skeleton of the Palace of the Holy Office of the Inquisition, this place which has passed judgement up on the final days of so many heretics, is lit up in glimmering spangles of yellow and orange.”
“The flood has not reached the Rossio. But that is a small mercy, perhaps no mercy at all, for all four sides are engulfed in flames. Leaping high in the air, they are devouring every morsel of floorboards, beams, window frames, every scrap of dry material integral to the construction of the edifices, grand and humble, every bench, table, carpet, curtain, tapestry, wall hanging, melting every glass or metal object, sacred or commonplace, silver plate, coins, golden altarpieces, artisans’ tools, grills and gates, chalices, kitchen utensils.”
“Impossible to believe that life had continued after the earth swallowed up so much of the city in just a few minutes, at the very time when the faithful were attending mass …The night is dark, light is needed, fire gives light and the memory of the terrible destruction inflicted by the fames must yield to the continuation of life.”
Language (and conversation) itself, of course, also plays a key role in the narrative:
“Rumour, gossip, the smallest detail, the slightest misunderstanding, had a way of infiltrating minds and tainting judgement, as the smallest drop of ink colours an entire pitcher of water.”
Did you enjoy writing the period detail?
LMcS: I really did. Just as I mentioned my desire to immerse myself psychologically in the perspective of the different characters, I found it fascinating to also inhabit the physical world, as far as I was able to with the information at my disposal. It is exciting to see how places and objects and the natural world, perceived through the eyes of the characters, can generate entire lines of thinking and insights. I also loved the process of gathering period detail – it felt like time travel through diaries, maps, architecture, streets. But the real pleasure was when the detail became atmosphere. A kind of emotional landscape.
That said, what I enjoyed most was what those details allowed me to say about the characters and about the society. Period detail became a way of showing how the physical world shapes human fate, especially in a disaster narrative. So yes, I enjoyed it, because it served the novel’s deeper questions.
SG: I’ve been to Lisbon multiple times though I can’t say I know the city well. I thought the Lisbon evoked in Aftershock is at once familiar and strange (not withstanding the period differences) and is, for this reader anyhow, the main character of the novel. The built environment and the key role it plays in how lives are lived, who survives a natural disaster and who doesn’t, who re-builds the city and for whom it is designed. Can you talk about the role of the city-as-character?
LMcS: Lisbon in Aftershock is absolutely a character for me. I wanted the city to have a kind of double presence: familiar enough that readers can recognize its rhythms, yet strange because the disaster reshaped the same streets, structures and spaces we think we know.
By showing Lisbon before, during, and after the shock, I wanted readers to feel the city exerting pressure on the characters just as much as the earthquake does. Its architecture, its beauty, and its fragility all shape the plot. The characters move through Lisbon, but Lisbon also moves through them. The city’s destruction and reconstruction becomes a moral and political arena, which is why it takes on such a vivid, almost human presence in the novel.
SG: Aftershock puts me in mind of the work of Hilary Mantel; the research is vast but seamlessly contained within character motivation and setting. You provide an extensive bibliography in the Acknowledgement section. Could you talk about your approach to the research needed for this novel? And for readers looking for writing historical fiction advice see this excellent article over on writing.ie.
LMcS: I started off with just one book – This Gulf of Fire by Mark Molesky – then got another one about the earthquake, and several more. I soon began to notice the emergence of the character who would become my protagonist, the hero – or anti-hero – and at that point, I pivoted and began reading biographies of the future Marquis of Pombal, and also of the key people in his life. There is a vast amount of literature about the earthquake, and I was fortunate to be able to read some primary sources – actual eye-witness accounts of the disaster, some of them original manuscripts. It was a process of starting with a wide, fairly scattergun approach until I found my subject, and then focusing my attention on my subject, and on ancillary topics that illuminated it. I really enjoyed it! The trouble with research is that if you enjoy it too much, you can find yourself down the rabbit hole and the book might never get written! So at some point, you have to call a halt. Thankfully, I did. Eventually.
We will end this chat, Liz, with some short questions:
- Lisbon or Porto? Lisbon – I’ve never been to Porto! But I definitely want to visit.
- Last city outside of Ireland visited? Glasgow – back visiting old friends.
- Best historical novel you’ve recently read? I’ve been re-reading Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall trilogy – hoping that something of her colossal craft might rub off! I’ve just finished Bring Up the Bodies, about to start on The Mirror and the Light.
- What character in Aftershock most surprised you? Dona Eleanor, the Marquis’ wife. I thought she would challenge him more as his methods became more brutal. She didn’t.
- What are you writing now? I am working on some short stories and I am at the rough notes stage of my next historical novel.
With thanks to Turas Press for the advance copy of Aftershock which can be purchased here.
Shauna Gilligan Writer 