Victorian England, Villains and Psychopaths: A Q&A with Virginia Feito
Virginia Feito’s latest is a sharp and surreal stay at Ensor House alongside a psychotic governess with an insatiable appetite. Creepy, campy and crackling with energy — you’ll read this book in a single sitting. Virginia sat down with blog writer Isabelle McConville to chat all about Victorian England, villains, psychopaths, A24 and more in an exclusive B&N Reads interview, down below.
Hardcover $24.99
Victorian Psycho: A Novel
Victorian Psycho: A Novel
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Hardcover $24.99
From the acclaimed author of Mrs. March comes the riveting tale of a bloodthirsty governess who learns the true meaning of vengeance.
From the acclaimed author of Mrs. March comes the riveting tale of a bloodthirsty governess who learns the true meaning of vengeance.
IM: My name is Isabelle McConville, and I’m the blog writer here at Barnes & Noble. Today, I am so thrilled to speak with Virginia Feito, bestselling author of Mrs. March and most recently Victorian Psycho. Virginia, thank you so much for being here today.
VF: Thank you so much for having me.
IM: Can you please set up the story of your new novel for us?
VF: This is the story of Winifred Notty, a woman in Victorian England who has just been hired as a governess at the noble Ensor House estate. From the beginning, we realize something’s not quite right with Winifred. She’s dragging around a darkness inside her, as she calls it. We’re not exactly sure if she’s going to be able to control her urges, and she seems to get angry quite easily.
IM: That was enough to hook me. I will say, I think it’s best to jump right into this book without knowing too much about it.
VF: Possibly. Isn’t it often the way for a lot of things, I mean, expectations kill so much of our pleasure with and books and such, but it depends on each one. If you’re very sensitive to graphic of descriptions of violence or abuse, you might want to know what you’re getting into, but that depends on each reader. I do think there’s a bit of a warning in the title. It’s like a wink to American Psycho.
IM: Where did this story really start for you? Can you pinpoint what sparked its creation?
“I could see her, I could hear her, I could smell her . . . I knew she was going to be a psychopath.”
VF: I remember I was in bed in the middle of the night. I don’t know if I had to get up for a glass of water or go to the bathroom, and the voice of the character just came to me. A line came to me in my sleep. It was: ‘My breast jiggling in my corset.’ That line and that voice was all I needed. I just grabbed it. I knew I could build a whole story out of that voice. It’s slightly anachronistic, and period, because she’s speaking about a corset. I could see her, I could hear her, I could smell her. I went for that voice, and it became apparent that she was kind of psychopathic, way too cheeky, way too indifferent to pain. I knew she was going to be a psychopath. I love psychopaths represented in the arts; they fascinate me. I love the Victorian era and I love Victorian era gothic literature, so I put all of those things together.
IM: I’ve read this book twice now, and during my reread of it, that specific line actually stood out to me. It’s right in the beginning. I remember thinking it was sort of a funny line, and it’s a great introduction to what this entire book is as a whole.
VF: Yes, it prepares you for what’s to come. I do wonder if this is one of those books where you know straight off the bat if you’re going to like it or not. I don’t know if this is one where you have to plow through and then maybe in six or seven chapters you’ll fall in love with it. I think you’ll either like it or not from the start. It does start off a little bit slower, and then it kind of goes off with a bang, but it doesn’t really pull punches at any time.
IM: Well, it’s funny you say that, because when I started this book I found it so easy to get immersed. Winifred feels very familiar, I thought. It was very easy to jump into this book. I recently had an experience reading another book, and it took me 100 or so pages to really click with the story, but I was completely into this book as soon as I started it. Can you talk a bit more about fine-tuning her voice and crafting her character?
“I knew the humor had to be there . . . I wouldn’t know how to write all the violence without it . . . I needed the humor as a writer before I grossed myself out too much.”
VF: It was a delicate balance. I knew the humor had to be there for many reasons. Firstly, because I wouldn’t know how to write all the violence without it. Maybe selfishly or cowardly, I needed the humor as a writer before I grossed myself out too much. Secondly, because it’s integral to the character. I think she’s using humor to manipulate us. And thirdly, because in my exhaustive psychopath research — which I’ve been doing since I was very young — I know that one of the main symptoms of the psychopathy is that they’re very charming. For me, there’s nothing more charming than a sense of humor.
I also knew she was going to be a liar. There’s a point where she lies to the reader and then says, ‘oh, you’re so gullible. How would I have ever done that? You silly goose.’ She’s very playful. I liked that she talks to the reader. I think that was a decision I made relatively earlier on. There was a point during the very, very long and awful editing process that I made the whole book third person. Structurally, it helped me add in chapters and find a rhythm that I needed, but it didn’t work. There was an original first draft of this that was absolutely unbearable. Just difficult, relentless and unforgiving. It took a while, but I think Winifred’s voice was always there. I was reading a lot on the Victorian era and read the Brontës biography. I took a lot from their actual lives.
“Ted Bundy seemed so lovely and reasonable until you pissed him off . . . I wanted to mirror that in her.”
I studied psychopaths, but I didn’t want it to be a factual textbook on their psychology. I noticed certain things that they all had in common, like charm, manipulation, and being so quick to anger. Ted Bundy seemed so lovely and reasonable until you pissed him off, and then with the flip of a switch, he’d turn on you immediately. I wanted to mirror that in her.
IM: I think you did that really well. I loved reading her character. It was very unique for me, especially because I don’t tend to read a ton of horror. I’m a little bit squeamish.
VF: I’m sorry.
IM: That’s okay! That’s why I was so blown away by this book. It was out of my comfort zone, and I enjoyed every bit of it. I’m curious — do you always know what your ending is going to be early on? We start the book with the line ‘In three months, everyone in this house will be dead.’
VF: I do usually have to know before I set off in Microsoft Word, so to speak. I need to know where we’re coming from and where we’re going, what the journey is and the destination. I did that with Mrs. March as well. This one went through such an exhausting editing process that some things — like certain characters’ fates — changed along the way. I thought I landed on the correct, appropriate ending for this. It had to be a bang. I knew it was going to be a very short novel. I don’t think it could withstand much more. I wanted it to feel like a very violent, fast experience — like a stab.
IM: It felt like a fever dream. You’re going on a journey with this complete psychopath, and yet, I found myself rooting for her throughout, which might be a crazy thing to say.
VF: I think she manipulated you.
IM: Oh, I totally fell for it. I’m fine with that. She charmed me. I felt like maybe there was a part of you making the case — with everything going on around her, and how badly the people around her behave — that in a way, she’s acting as reasonably as she can under the circumstances.
“The Victorian era was just a parody of itself . . . how could you possibly react sanely in these insane circumstances? But also, how far are we willing to justify Winifred’s actions?”
VF: In a way, yes. It was a crazy world and such a crazy society. The Victorian era was just a parody of itself. They were throwing dead babies into the river or stuffing them into boxes and sending them to their uncle in the countryside. There was a part of me that thought, well, how could you possibly react sanely in these insane circumstances? But also, how far are we willing to justify Winifred’s actions? She’s had an absolutely awful time of it, and she’s gone through some really unfair situations and abuse since she was born. Is there something that’s not quite right inside of her that everyone around her has noticed since she was born? Or did they force it onto her and create this monster? I don’t know — that’s for each reader to decide. Even loving her as I do, I do think she is a villain. I don’t think she’s an anti-hero. Some of her violence can almost be construed as noble in a way — maybe some was even satisfying to read — but a lot of the time, it’s innocent people she’s hurting. Vulnerable babies, children, animals. She doesn’t care.
IM: That’s so interesting, because I’ve seen people call her an anti-hero. What do you think about that? Even with Mrs. March, you do tend to write these morally gray characters.
VF: It’s more fun to ask the question. I think it’s my job to make the reader think about these questions, not to answer it for them. I did research on the nature vs nurture debate and the figure of the psychopath, and there are some connections in their brains that don’t form physically. So, it might be biological, but no one really knows. I don’t want to tell the readers, ‘Listen, she’s a villain,’ but I would love to hear everyone’s theories. I do think she’s a villain, personally. I don’t think we could justify her actions in any way. I just don’t trust her. I love the whole, ‘No, we’d be friends. I could change her,’ thing, but I don’t think I could. I think we’d annoy her immediately and she would kill us.
IM: I do think you succeed in making the reader think about those questions. I found myself thinking, ‘well, what if Winifred’s crazy childhood never happened?’ Would she still be the same?
“I wanted to create a sympathetic — but also unsympathetic — female character who’s evil without justifying it . . . sometimes I wonder, are we babying these awful female characters who are essentially just villains?”
VF: I’m glad. They say psychopaths are born and sociopaths are made. It could just be a survival mechanism that she can’t feel fear, or it could be that her mom noticed something off about her immediately. Who knows? In one of the earlier drafts, it was suggested — and this is no spoiler because this is no longer in this draft —that one of the first things she learned how to do at a very, very early age was to kill her baby sister. Naturally, her mother was quite upset and frightened of her.
There’s a lot of fun to be had for the writer in complex, layered psychologies. I knew I wanted to point out how unfair this time period was for women, but at the same time, I wanted to create a sympathetic — but also unsympathetic —female character who’s evil without justifying it. We tend to do that a lot with female characters. With such an unfair patriarchy, there’s always a feeling of ‘they all deserved it’ when these characters inflict violence. Sometimes I wonder, are we babying these awful female characters who are essentially just villains? I feel like with Elphaba or Maleficent, they’re no longer villains.
IM: That’s a really great point. I think we tend to try and moralize for our favorite female characters. Women deserve to be absolute evil psychopaths, just like men have been.
VF: Yep, exactly. Just like the men. Almost as if we were human beings. Imagine that.
IM: I’d like to talk more about setting and why you chose Victorian England for this book. It’s very top of mind right now, especially with Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu in theaters and people having a cultural conversation about repression, especially when it comes to female desire, sexuality, rage and violence. Why did you pick Victorian England for this book? Can you tell me a bit about that writing process for you?
VF: I do think it might be coming back a little bit. I wonder if the pandemic had anything to do with it. We were all going insane in our houses in a way that we hadn’t done since back when they locked us women up and took away our quills and such. I’ve loved Victorian literature since I was a very little girl. My dad — to this day — has a very passionate obsession with Dickens, and he influenced the entire household. We watch all the adaptations of A Christmas Carol every winter and debate over which one is best. It’s the Michael Caine one, obviously. He took us to the museum and to Dickens house, so Dickens was a household name ever since I can remember. He was one of the very first authors that I tried to imitate, which I think is how most writers learn to write, imitating their idols. I was imitating this very pompous, very Victorian vocabulary at a very young, very pretentious age. The Secret Garden was also a huge influence on me, and it’s such a gothic novel. It starts with a cholera epidemic and everyone’s dead. It’s incredible.
I’ve always been really drawn to those stories. I don’t know if it’s because it felt distantly cozy in a way, until you mature and realize there was no ibuprofen, or tampons or rights. Then it becomes incredibly terrifying. There’s an interesting balance between the cozy aspect and the horrifying darkness and violence that was normalized at the time.
IM: I recently saw that A24 landed the rights to the movie adaptation of your book. Congratulations!
VF: Thank you so much — it’s insane.
IM: I wonder, what is it like to put this book out, prep yourself for its reception, and also surrender it to someone else’s interpretation? How does that feel?
VF: With reception, reading reviews is sort of a mixed bag. That depends on the day and if I’m willing to go down that hole, because it’s a dangerous habit. I have read some reviews, and some of them are very positive, and some of them just get so personal. I’m very grateful that this is coming out because it took me so long, and it was such a hard process. I’m so thankful that I have a team who loves and supports it. As for the movie, I’m so grateful to A24, Margaret Qualley, and the director. He sought me out after he read Mrs. March, and he just got it. As soon as I sent him the manuscripts, he immediately got it. I’m so excited to see the story translated to the screen as if it were a different language. I write in English, and as you know, I live in Spain — someone else translates the book into Spanish. I think it’s so interesting to see how your own work can surprise you. I can’t wait to see what all the departments in the movie have planned. Aesthetically too, in terms of character or even in terms of China patterns.
IM: Lastly, who are you reading now?
VF: Yes, I am now reading Haruki Murakami’s Killing Commendatore. I know I’m late to this party, but I had never read Murakami for some weird reason. I thought it wouldn’t click with me. It was a match right from the first page. It has a kind of gothic touch so far. It’s very, very intriguing and the language is beautiful and poetic. I’m in love with it right now.
IM: Virginia, thank you so much for doing this today.
VF: Thank you for having me.
This interview was edited for length and clarity.
