Off The Record: Limerick writer William Keohane explores childhood memories

SITTING next to what used to be a fireplace, Limerick writer William Keohane is all smiles as he discusses launching his new essay, his fascination for names, and why he feels lucky to have supportive parents.

Over the Riverfest weekend, William launched his new pamphlet in Ormston House, a cultural resource centre in the city where he is the writer-in-residence.

Published by The Lifeboat Press, Son, is an essay about “care and parenthood.” Through its pages, William brings us from childhood into early adulthood as he touches on naming and gender transition.

Through thirty-six pages, Son shares an honest account of William’s experience as he gives us a glimpse into some of his childhood memories. As the author takes us through his story, the language evolves to reflect different steps of his life. From his first day of school to hearing his mother call him Will for the first time, Son tells a vulnerable and lovingly written story. 

As he sits back in a chair in a café inside Limerick train station, William speaks of his fascination with names. 

“I've always been fascinated in how people relate to their names because it's such a personal thing, but I had read very few stories or very few accounts of actually how people choose or are given their names. I guess I had been looking for a story about naming,” he explains.

After trying a few beginnings, he realised his story had to start on the first day of school. “It’s the first day of school, and I’m scared. My mom’s with me, she’s holding my hand.”

For the writer, finding a way into a story is the hardest part. “Once I'm in there, once I've found that beginning, it's much easier to keep going. I much prefer endings,” he smiles.

In Son, William takes us through capsules of time as he looks back on childhood memories.

Speaking of “returning to memories,” he points out: “It's really difficult work. It takes a lot of time and concentration to actually go back to those memories from when you're four years old or five or six, they are kind of hazy. But when I was writing this, I was going through family photos and going through those pictures from the first day at school, and then also backing things up by asking my parents what they remembered from that time too.”

Describing Son as creative non-fiction, he notes that he wrote about the accounts of his life, but that he had to fill the gaps.

“It's like trying to be very careful with memories and trying to be very careful with how I talk about transition. Because obviously, it's a difficult time now to be talking about transition,” he says.

For William, it was important to represent his parents accurately and truthfully.

“I love them and I want to represent them truthfully, but also in a sort of tender way. I want them to be happy with the representation that they see, which isn't exactly who they are, but this literary version of them. I just hope there’s a level of trust with them now that they know that I wouldn’t write them in a way that I didn’t feel was truly representative of who they are,” he explains.

His parents were present at the launch of Son in Ormston House, something William is grateful for.

“It was wonderful to have them at the launch. I feel very lucky in that regard. I know of trans and queer people who don't have supportive parents. And I know of other people as well who just have lost contact with their parents who don't have good relationships, so I feel very blessed to have them in my life and have them as support.”

In Son, the writer aimed to “return to the voice” of a child. Speaking of his use of language, he explains: “The language in sun is very uncomplicated, especially at the beginning. I tried to use the language that maybe a small child would be using to describe these things. And then the language evolves a little bit as I get older, as I become like an older child, a teenager, and then an adult. But, I just really wanted to present a clear and simple account of the experience.”

As the conversation comes to an end, he notes that a lot of the time, unnecessary complexity is added to the conversation.

Speaking of the experience of coming out, he concludes: “The simplest response is one of love and care and how much that helps somebody. There are so many reactions that people can have and so many words that people can use to describe this experience, but the best one is just that direct one that's simple and immediate, of just love and care. That's the whole thing that I'm trying to emphasize in the work.”