Like Workington and Barrow, Morecambe is a small, slightly rundown, coastal town in north-west England to which I have personal connections: my parents lived there for many years and, coincidentally, one of my good friends, whom I met in Cairo, has a house overlooking the bay which, for a short while, she ran as a guesthouse. Although I don’t refer to it by name, it’s also one of the settings, along with Nottingham, for my forthcoming novel, Underneath. So when I discovered Owl Song at Dawn was set in Morecambe, I was keen to read it. I was even happier to be offered a slot on the blog tour when the author agreed to write a post on the setting. I hope you enjoy Emma Claire Sweeney’s piece as much as I did. My mini review follows at the end.
Morecambe’s White Hope by Emma Claire Sweeney
The research for my novel, Owl Song at Dawn, led me to fall in love with a Lancashire seaside resort.
My story began to emerge when I could hear the voices of my main characters: twin sisters born in 1933. Maeve is fêted as the cleverest girl in town and Edie is diagnosed as ‘severely subnormal’. But they both spoke with Morecambe dialects. This posed a problem because I had never set foot in the town.
Since I hail from Birkenhead, I tried to relocate my novel to the Wirral’s coastline. But, try as I might, Maeve and Edie refused to morph their Lancashire dialects into Scouse.
I formed a clear picture of the pair of them in the 1950s at the lido and fairground and pier, and, at first, I sought to get away with locating the novel in an unnamed northern town. One of my early readers had lived in Morecambe, however, and she recognised her former home. She couldn’t understand why I’d chosen to disguise the inspiration behind my setting.
At this point, I accepted that I’d simply have to put in the hours, investigating Morecambe’s history from 1933 to the present day. No more excuses: I’d simply have to get it right.
My research included lots of reading, of course, but also enjoyable stays in Yacht Bay View; interviews with long-time residents; meetings with local historians; and drawing up detailed maps of the places my characters frequent.
I came across a fabulous coffee table book called Morecambe’s White Hope about the history of the Midland Hotel – a glamorous Art Deco building situated right at the edge of the bay. It was built in 1933 and was host to big band dinner dances and bathing beauty competitions. From the 1960s onwards, however, its fortunes turned, and it ended up standing derelict for decades. But it reopened its doors in 2008, restored to its former glory, offering me the perfect excuse to sip a cocktail in the Rotunda Bar as the sun set over the crashing waves. The grim neglect suffered by the Midland seemed a good symbol for the abandonment that the twins may have also endured. And, just as the hotel was granted a last-ditch reprieve, in her dotage, one of my characters is also offered a final glimmer of hope.
All of these thoughts had developed during my visits to Morecambe, but I had been drafting and redrafting for some time before the reasons behind my fascination with the town finally dawned.
My sister had spent a few years at Beaumont College in Lancaster – a college for people with cerebral palsy and associated disabilities – and they used to take trips to the seaside. On some subconscious level, Morecambe is a town that I associate with my sister and her disabilities: a welcoming place where she experienced the happiest of times.
Thanks for sharing, Emma. For those who don’t share my interest in Morecambe, here are some other reasons you might like to read Owl Song at Dawn.
The research for my novel, Owl Song at Dawn, led me to fall in love with a Lancashire seaside resort.
My story began to emerge when I could hear the voices of my main characters: twin sisters born in 1933. Maeve is fêted as the cleverest girl in town and Edie is diagnosed as ‘severely subnormal’. But they both spoke with Morecambe dialects. This posed a problem because I had never set foot in the town.
Since I hail from Birkenhead, I tried to relocate my novel to the Wirral’s coastline. But, try as I might, Maeve and Edie refused to morph their Lancashire dialects into Scouse.
I formed a clear picture of the pair of them in the 1950s at the lido and fairground and pier, and, at first, I sought to get away with locating the novel in an unnamed northern town. One of my early readers had lived in Morecambe, however, and she recognised her former home. She couldn’t understand why I’d chosen to disguise the inspiration behind my setting.
At this point, I accepted that I’d simply have to put in the hours, investigating Morecambe’s history from 1933 to the present day. No more excuses: I’d simply have to get it right.
My research included lots of reading, of course, but also enjoyable stays in Yacht Bay View; interviews with long-time residents; meetings with local historians; and drawing up detailed maps of the places my characters frequent.
I came across a fabulous coffee table book called Morecambe’s White Hope about the history of the Midland Hotel – a glamorous Art Deco building situated right at the edge of the bay. It was built in 1933 and was host to big band dinner dances and bathing beauty competitions. From the 1960s onwards, however, its fortunes turned, and it ended up standing derelict for decades. But it reopened its doors in 2008, restored to its former glory, offering me the perfect excuse to sip a cocktail in the Rotunda Bar as the sun set over the crashing waves. The grim neglect suffered by the Midland seemed a good symbol for the abandonment that the twins may have also endured. And, just as the hotel was granted a last-ditch reprieve, in her dotage, one of my characters is also offered a final glimmer of hope.
All of these thoughts had developed during my visits to Morecambe, but I had been drafting and redrafting for some time before the reasons behind my fascination with the town finally dawned.
My sister had spent a few years at Beaumont College in Lancaster – a college for people with cerebral palsy and associated disabilities – and they used to take trips to the seaside. On some subconscious level, Morecambe is a town that I associate with my sister and her disabilities: a welcoming place where she experienced the happiest of times.
Thanks for sharing, Emma. For those who don’t share my interest in Morecambe, here are some other reasons you might like to read Owl Song at Dawn.
Approaching eighty, Maeve is an engaging narrator, worthy to stand alongside the older female characters celebrated by Caroline Lodge on Bookword. Although she’s done a great job in opening up her guesthouse to people with disabilities, as both guests and staff, a part of her died in her early twenties when she lost so many important people in her life, at least one as the result of her own folly. The surprise arrival of her childhood friend, Vincent, pushes her to revisit the past. But can Maeve allow herself to be open to the guilt and regret, to mourn once more her beloved twin sister, Edie, in order to salvage the chance to love again? Can she tolerate this alongside the impending death of her close friend, Dot, from cancer, along with the challenges of the burgeoning romance between Len and Steph, who both have Down’s syndrome? Owl Song at Dawn is an honest and heartwarming story of romantic and family love and the changing expectations of both women and people with learning disabilities of the last eighty years. Great to read a novel with a positive – but not schmaltzy – perspective on people with learning disabilities. A commendable debut.
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