In Amanda Churchill‘s debut novel, The Turtle House, readers meet Lia and her grandmother Mineko at a crossroads in both their lives. Through stunning prose, Churchill takes readers through time as both women come of age in 1990s Texas and pre-World War II Japan. The generational drama is filled with soft, intimate moments of unforgettable characters and is a must-read for anyone who enjoys historical fiction.
We caught up with the debut author to learn about who inspired her, the pressures of ensuring the novel was historically accurate, and why she needed to write this novel.
I’d love to start with getting a brief background about how you became interested in reading and writing while growing up. Who was influential to you, and what books inspired you?
Like most kids, I was obsessed with the library, even though the library in my town at the time was a tiny, crooked old house that leaked when it rained. I remember dodging water buckets and finding mildew in the pages, but I didn’t care—I thought it was magical and I read everything three times. I was a huge fan of reading stories, but also the World Book Encyclopedia. My dad bought a set and I started in the As and went all the way through to the Zs. I think that’s where my love of research bloomed. In second grade I was tapped for this UIL program called “Ready Writing” where kids were given a prompt and had to come up with a short story within two hours. I remember practicing with teachers after the school day ended and just feeling like it was the best time I had ever had. I also adored the folktales my grandmother told me when I was little and so I read a lot of Japanese folklore during middle school—my aunt gave me this thick collection for Christmas one year and I still have it on my bookshelf! It has these amazing color plates, complete with beheadings, ghosts, a weird beach covered with snakes. I took to carrying it around with me during tornado warnings because I was worried it would get destroyed and I’d never find it again. One of the first novels that I remember making me think, “I could write books for my entire life,” was Amy Tan’s Joy Luck Club. I told the librarian that I was checking it out for my mom because I was officially too young to read it. I simply love stories about families and the characters in that novel stayed with me.
Part of what I’m interested in with Debutiful is publishing paths. What has your career journey been leading up to publishing your debut?
It’s been all over the place. I knew I wanted to write, but had no idea how one could become a writer. I remember the first time I heard about an MFA was in college—my very first workshop professor had a gathering at his home for all of us after a friend of his from Iowa came into town to read. When they told me that I should apply for this mysterious MFA, I remember asking how much it cost and they kind of laughed at me. I was on scholarship, so I couldn’t imagine going on for another degree without being guaranteed a job afterward where I could support myself. So, I became a television reporter (short-lived), then a graphic designer (which I still do). I earned my MA in creative writing while working full-time. I defended my thesis and graduated when I was eight months pregnant. After having my children, the years started to speed up and I realized that if I wanted to write a novel, I just needed to do it. So, I started working on The Turtle House early in the mornings before my babies woke up and needed me and before I started my paying job of designing. It would be dark when I got to the kitchen to write and the sun would be coming up when I would close my notebook. Then, when my youngest started public school, I saw my chance to go for it. I started applying for the bigger-name summer conferences and, to my total shock, was accepted. I have a fourteen-year-old and a ten-year-old now, just for time reference.
Your grandmother was a huge inspiration for this novel. Can you tell readers about the genesis of The Turtle House and how her life influenced the book while you were writing it?
Around 2009, I had the rare opportunity to spend lots of quality time with my grandmother, the first time since I was living at home before college. I was exceedingly pregnant, finishing up my masters, and had just left my full-time job and she was recovering from cancer and learning how to accept help for the first time. Where she had never been very forthcoming about her experiences during World War II and the following Occupation, something about this particular time period allowed us to really talk and to connect. In true Grandmommy fashion, she’d tell me a story and then would tell me that she wanted to smoke a cigarette and watch a television show. Totally clam up. I had to be patient and know that I was on her timeline. Toward the end of these conversations, she announced that her stories would make a really great book one day, maybe the best book. I had to laugh. She was the type of woman who made these grand pronouncements about everything—from the intelligence of her cat to the strength of her fingernails. I told her I would think about it but, honestly, I was worried that my abilities weren’t equal to her amazing life. But, after she passed away in March of 2014, I found that I missed her deeply and the only way to feel better was to sit down and simply type out these stories. While putting them down, I quickly realized that I needed more information, that there were holes that I hadn’t seen before, so I began to write into these spaces. It was like I was darning a blanket and my goal was to simply make sure my stitches disappeared so her life could burst. It was probably the most magical experience I’ve ever had—maybe ever will—as a writer. I felt her presence, for lack of a better phrase.
Even though this is a work of fiction, did you feel any sort of pressure to depict parts of history accurately?
Yes, and it kept me up nights. I did a lot of research to make sure I could corroborate what I had been told by my grandmother and then, in turn, that research helped bridge some of the plot points that I hadn’t understood previously. Japanese history is complicated because Japan was very much the aggressor and responsible for a lot of suffering in other Asian countries. Then, it experienced defeat and occupation, so there was a role-reversal that changed everything within Japan and altered the fate of people like my grandmother. But this is the history, for better or worse, that I’ve inherited, so it felt honorable to study every aspect that I could, within reason, and try to put that one the page.
How did you approach researching for this book?
I was at a reading during the One Story Summer Conference a few years ago when author Irina Reyn discussed how she researched. At the time, I was buried in research. I was devouring every book about Japan from the 1900s on and every book I could find about the Pacific front. And a lot of what I was reading was out of print, so I was getting all these packages delivered to my house from every random used bookstore in the United States. I was totally binge-researching. Irina said in her talk that sometimes it was best to be “vampiric” about research. To write the chapter as you see it, then go back and find explicitly what you need and “suck” all the research up that has to do with the scenes you wrote. That changed my course. I still over-researched in places, but it gave me the freedom to just write what served the story, then to go back and be intentional. Sometimes what I discovered would alter the story a little, so I’d have to rewrite and come up with a new way through. It was the right piece of knowledge at the right time. It’s funny how craft lessons are like that.
What are some titles from other writers that you can recommend that touch on similar themes for readers who enjoy your book?
One of my favorite novels of all time is A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro—it takes place in Japan during the occupation and there’s this palpable sense of shame and loss that permeates every page. I think it was Ishiguro’s first novel and I still love it. Other books that seem to be in conversation with mine—especially about family and homesickness—Crystal Hana Kim’s If You Leave Me, Hala Alyan’s Salt Houses, Janika Oza’s A History of Burning. And, Melissa Fu’s Peach Blossom Spring is absolutely fantastic.