The Councillor is now one of my favourite fantasy books of all time. If you are an avid reader and learner, this story about a commoner who becomes the Palace Scholar and later plays an integral role in the destiny of the realm will touch your heart. Well written with memorable characters and a plot that’s an emotional rollercoaster, this book has it all. It was an honour to talk to talk to debut author E. J. Beaton about the book, worldbuilding, book recommendations, and more!
Hi, E. J. Beaton! Can you tell us a little about yourself?
Thank you for your kind words, and for taking the time and effort to review The Councillor.
To introduce myself: I’m passionate about the arts, and love to spend time in galleries, at literary events, or listening to live music. The tapestry of art in my home city contains so many threads, and they can weave together in unexpected and inspiring ways. Gazing at a centuries-old portrait, listening to the warm sounds of Baroque trumpets, or squeezing into a bookshop to hear new poetry, I feel invigorated and inspired to create.
Evocative places also draw me in. I’m often travelling, whether in person or through pages and pictures. Travelling solo has given me the opportunity to experience ancient olive groves, overgrown temples, dense jungle, and the riot of colour and texture on church ceilings. On the other hand, travelling through books and images has allowed me to strike up a dialogue with the past and imagine myself into all kinds of dramatic events.
The Councillor is your first novel. What was the moment when the idea of the book first came to be? What made you pursue it?
I began writing the novel when I was enduring a difficult time in my life and grappling with health issues. One day, the idea crystallised in my mind that if I could write about what I was going through then perhaps I could survive. The symbolic and metaphorical aspects of fantasy helped me: I felt as if my feelings and thoughts were out of my control, so I came up with the idea of a queen who could control minds. That was the seed of the story, and it grew and expanded from there.
As I pursued writing the novel, I had a great sense of purpose and fulfilment because I felt that I was following a path I had always wanted to traverse. I was studying Renaissance literature and fantasy in conjunction, and I worked at creating a story that took elements of history and literature and twisted them in ways that were meaningful to me. I was keen to write about a woman who used her mind to solve problems, and I also tried to create a world where all genders and sexualities were equal.
Which of the characters do you associate with most?
There’s a kind of alchemy that takes place during character development. A whole manner of different things fused together to create the characters in The Councillor: my interests, my feelings about what I’d like to see on the page, and some inspiration that was almost dreamlike. I don’t associate myself with any one of my characters, but I do feel rather attached to all of them – even the ones who do questionable things.
I wanted to represent a range of people who weren’t bound by gender norms. The female characters include a battle-hardened queen, a quiet but ambitious scholar, a sharp-minded merchant, and a city-ruler who innovates with weapons. Amongst the men, there’s a prince who loves art and fabulous clothes, a cunning tactician and inventor, a quiet advisor who responds to his leader, and a plain-speaking soldier.
What role does scholarship and knowledge play in understanding the world around us?
On one hand, scholarship illuminates the specific: it brings to light precise and particular pieces of knowledge. It’s a domain of expertise where researchers develop long-form work, conduct detailed experiments, and try to analyse their findings in depth.
On the other hand, I think the best scholarship connects to a bigger picture and tells us something that is meaningful to broader society. It’s important that scholarly work doesn’t speak only to enlighten other scholars in the circular motions of privilege. This is not to say that research should be diluted or stripped of its specificity, but that complex language should be used to communicate, instead of obfuscating the work.
Lysande struggles to deal with the nobility, at first, because her work as a scholar has not been interactive – she’s built up her knowledge and conducted detailed analysis, but she hasn’t learned how to use it in a practical, political scenario. Over time, she tests out her skills and uses her knowledge to persuade people and make rapid-fire decisions. She’s still a thinking woman at heart, but she’s applying her intelligence to the interests of the realm.
While writing this novel, did you consider multiple point of views to tell the story? Personally, I loved Lysande and really appreciated the story being from her point of view. It helped me create a clear picture of the world.
Thank you! Focusing the story on one character’s perspective was a natural choice. It allowed me to develop Lysande and centre her in the novel. The limited perspective also helped me to keep the mystery going, as I could filter the story through Lysande’s interpretation of events and through her interaction with other people.
I’ve been tempted to write something from another character’s perspective as a side project. Hopefully that will eventuate some day!
I noticed that the names of the characters, especially with Lysande Prior and Luca Fontaine, had significant meaning in their respective cultures and languages. The Irriqi’s title had a gravity as well. How do you select the names of your characters? Were you inspired by a certain era or civilization in history?
I like your comment about “gravity”, because at the end of the day, names do need to feel right, as well as make sense in the logic of the world. Being a poet, I like to experiment with the sound of things and consider the connotations of words.
I gave each city a different naming system. There was a joy in playing with language to find the right names. For example, I played with English words to create the Axiumite names: Derset is a play on Dorset; the minor character Surrick combines the names of Surrey and Warwick; Lady Pelory’s surname is a soundalike of Malory; and there are many more. The nobles’ names sound like the aristocracy of a few centuries ago, whereas the names from the classical era sound more like Latin.
Different regions of the world inspired other cities’ naming systems. I allowed myself to be a bit more obvious with Italian and French words. For example, Luca’s father was named Marcio Sovrano, and the Rhimese castle is called Castle Sapere… a quick translation from Italian will sort those out for readers…
Three of the cities are named after aspects of poetry. Lyria is named after lyric poetry, Rhime is named after rhyme (though pronounced like ream), and Pyrrha is named after the pyrrhic metrical foot. As for Axium, I liked how the word suggested both “axis” and “axiom”, two words which chime with the city’s character and influence.
I loved how The Councillor weaved together intricate issues like the situation of the common people, the cut-throat politics, the history of the land and the magnitude of alliances. Were there certain aspects of the story that you had to research more than others?
Research on Machiavelli, Shakespeare, and other Renaissance writers helped me to think about political strategy and, simultaneously, the consequences of ruthlessness. I analysed rhetoric, too, and considered how language can be used to persuade and manipulate others. Histories of Renaissance Italy furnished me with details about clothing, art, weapons, and other practicalities, as well as raising the larger issues of conflict and inequality in a feudal context. I found books about the Borgia and Medici families to be particularly useful.
The cultures of the different cities in Elira aren’t directly adapted from any real-world cultures, but I did find some inspiration in a wide range of countries. I’ve had the opportunity to travel in Europe, Asia, the UK, and elsewhere, and the landscapes and buildings I experienced inspired some aspects of the world, although I always sought to add my own fantastical twists to things and shape them into my own vision. It was a combination of research, memory, and imagination, but imagination always took the leading part.
In your mind, what was the most challenging aspect of writing The Councillor?
My brother John’s encouragement spurred me on to write the novel. He believed in me long before I ever had a book deal, and he read every chapter of the novel. When he died, shortly after I completed the first draft, it was very difficult to keep going. The immediate impact of his death sent an earthquake through my family, one whose reverberations we still feel today, and on top of our shock and pain we had many practical tasks to complete in order to bring him home.
I motivated myself by remembering my brother’s words of faith in me. When I encountered barriers or hurdles, I sometimes felt like my efforts were futile, but I knew that I wanted to keep going for John. To be able to have the book published and dedicate it to him meant so much to me; the J in E J is my brother’s initial, so his part in my work is always recognised.
Who are some authors that you would say influenced and shaped you as a writer?
A range of writers from different periods have influenced and inspired me. I fell in love with the Greek and Norse epics at an early age. I found powerful goddesses like Hera and Athena fascinating; they were fearsome, but also flawed and complicated and meddlesome. Equally, I was interested in male figures who seemed to embody a different form of masculinity, like Loki, who shifted appearances and even genders, and always seemed an outsider to the collective of immortals.
I’ve also been immersed in the works of Renaissance writers, including Shakespeare, Machiavelli, Marlowe, Amyot, Castiglione, and others, as well as the academic discussion of their works.
Some contemporary authors I’ve found compelling include Hilary Mantel, Susanna Clarke, N. K. Jemisin and Ocean Vuong. Beautiful writing with a richness to the language draws me in. I also love writing that has something to say about power and engages with the way that knowledge is shared or guarded.
If readers could take one thing away from this book, what would you want it to be?
Every reader’s experience is different, so I wouldn’t want to dictate what they should like or dislike. But I hope that the characters will seem fully human and that Lysande’s reflections on power, exclusion, and knowledge will be of interest. Since writing style is a key element that makes me enjoy a novel, I hope that readers will also enjoy my way of writing.
What is in store for Lysande and the Councillors in the next book?
Some of the tension between two characters boils over in the second book and there are personal and political consequences. Lysande is also grappling with a question about her identity and trying to make sense of who she really is. If all my scenes make it through edits, then these words should give some hints: book, rope, fire, birth.
Lastly, do you have any book recommendations for our readers?
I really enjoyed Piranesi by Susanna Clarke last year. The main character’s psychological and emotional journey was compelling – as he navigates his way through the mystery of where he is and why, Piranesi retains a gentle and kind view of the world, even though his story has parallels with recovering from trauma, grief, or illness. I found that Piranesi lingered in my mind because it wasn’t about quick or perfect healing; it captured the unease and the mingling of hope and sadness that can last a long time after heavy events.
K-Ming Chang’s Bestiary struck me as an unusual magical realist story, focused on the women of a single family, and weaving desire and pain and memory together. I liked how sections with fragmented poetry interspersed the prose chapters. The story wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere, and that was what I found interesting about it; the novel takes its time to dwell in the mindset of the characters.
