Q&A with Kat Devereaux

 

 

 

Kat Devereaux is the author of the new novel Daughter of Genoa. She also has written the novel Escape to Florence. Also a freelance editor and translator, she lives in Prague. 

 

Q: What inspired you to write Daughter of Genoa, and how did you create your character Anna?

 

A: After Escape to Florence, I knew that I wanted to write another World War II novel set in Italy – but in another region, showcasing a different aspect of the resistance movement.

 

My best Italian friend is from Genoa, and I visited the city with him for the first time just when I was looking for that next big idea. Once I found about the Delegation for the Assistance of Jewish Emigrants (DELASEM), which operated out of Genoa before and during the German occupation, I knew I had my angle.

 

Anna’s voice emerged gradually as I did my preliminary research and began to write the first draft. My characters generally come to me of their own accord, or they seem to, which really means that my subconscious is doing all the work.

 

Q: What did you see as the right balance between fiction and history as you wrote the novel?

 

A: This changed in the course of events. Originally, I wanted to have a small cast of fictional characters: an imaginary cell within a real organisation. It’s easier and more liberating to create your own characters and make them historically authentic, rather than try to do justice to someone who really existed.

 

But as I learned more about Massimo Teglio, the real-life hero who became my leading man, I realised that this was not practical.

 

As head of DELASEM, he ran a very tight ship. He personally took charge of both the forgery and the expatriation activities, and he worked closely with don Francesco Repetto, the archbishop’s secretary, who was treasurer of the network.

 

Clandestine work was extremely dangerous and they both took a lot of that danger on themselves. They were also very careful about accepting help, or bringing new people on board. Infiltration and entrapment were serious risks.

 

So there was no way that my fictional typographers, Silvia and Bernardo, could produce the blanks for identity and ration cards without Teglio’s direct involvement.

 

It was equally impossible for my fictional Jesuit priest, Father Vittorio, to go about his daily work without checking in with don Repetto. And Repetto and Teglio were both such amazing characters that my story would be far poorer without them.

 

Teglio gave a few interviews, mostly towards the end of his life, and I studied them all in depth. No fictional version could come close to the man he was. But if I can inspire readers to find out more about him, don Repetto, and DELASEM, I’ll be very happy.

 

Q: Can you tell us more about how you researched the book? What did you learn that particularly surprised you?

 

A: I did most of the work on this book while I was living in Lucca, just a couple of hours from Genoa by bus. So I spent as much time as I could in the city, learning its geography, soaking up the atmosphere and talking to local experts.

 

I made contacts across the Jewish, Catholic, and Waldensian communities, and they were incredibly helpful and generous with their insights. I also consulted experts in other fields, such as historical medicine, and I spent a very productive time in Rome at the Jesuit Curia library.

 

I didn’t know much about DELASEM when I first decided to set my novel in Genoa, and I had never heard of Teglio or Repetto. So in that respect, it was all new and surprising.

 

In a way, the most unexpected discovery was how little I understood about Jesuit life at that time. I know the modern-day Jesuits very well and so I thought that Father Vittorio’s chapters would be comparatively easy to write.

 

But the culture of the Society of Jesus was very, very different in that period. To portray his experience, I had to forget everything I knew and start again from scratch.

 

Q: The writer Suzanne Kelman called the book “a poignant reminder that even in the darkest hours, resistance—whether bold or quiet—is the only enduring voice that rises about the silence of history.” What do you think of that description?

 

A: I thought a lot about how to answer this question. People have short memories, and acts of resistance are easily forgotten. From the Italian theater alone, there are so many stories that have fallen into obscurity.

 

Those who did clandestine work were deeply affected by the experience, and many of them were also very modest, so they didn’t always talk about it.

 

Don Francesco Repetto is a classic example of this. I got the strongest sense of his character from the way that Massimo Teglio (who was modest about his own achievements) spoke about him in interviews.

 

Don Repetto himself was a shy and self-effacing man who always felt that he could have done better. In fact, he was quick-thinking and exceptionally courageous, but we only know that because of other people’s accounts.

 

But here’s the thing. We still have at least some testimonies: to individuals and their actions, and to the work of the resistance movements in general.

 

Above all, we have the concrete legacy of every life that was saved because somebody, whether boldly or quietly, refused to comply.

 

So resistance absolutely does endure, and historical novels – along with historical research – can help to amplify that voice. It’s an honour that Suzanne Kelman gave my novel this beautiful compliment.

 

Q: What are you working on now?

 

A: It’s a secret!

 

Q: Anything else we should know?

 

A: If you have read Daughter of Genoa, or you’d just like to know more about DELASEM, my website has a dedicated FAQ with historical information, references, and links to online resources.

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb. Here's a previous Q&A with Kat Devereaux.