Hollay Ghadery is a multi-genre writer living in Kawartha Lakes, Ontario on Anishinaabe land. She has her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Guelph. Her fiction, non-fiction, and poetry have been published in various literary journals and magazines. Fuse, her memoir of mixed-race identity and mental health, was released in Spring 2021. Rebellion Box, her debut collection of poetry, was released in 2023. This fall Ghadery released a collection of short fiction titled Widow Fantasies.
In Widow Fantasies, Hollay Ghadery weaves together fragmented narratives with colorful threads of diverse female voices, spanning different ages and cultures. It is an alluring, emotionally resonant collection that provides a nuanced and insightful exploration of womanhood, challenging conventional perspectives of what we think we know about the female experience. The unconventional stories illuminate the beauty, light, and shadows of girls and women while also celebrating the panoply of paths they navigate amidst societal expectations. Ghadery offers readers a window into their veiled worlds, revealing the raw, often unpleasant truths of their lives, their struggles and triumphs, and the spectrum of experiences in between. By confronting stereotypes and challenging assumptions, this collection sparks a broader conversation about what it means to be a woman in today’s society, leaving a lasting impression on its readers.
I had the pleasure to interview Hollay Ghadery about her new book. The interview took place via email and has been edited for brevity.
Britta Stromeyer: How did you develop the characters in this collection?
Hollay Ghadery: The characters in Widow Fantasies all have some origin in myself. They either are almost completely me (like the character who goes has a suspicious nub on the end of her tongue removed) or partially based on me (like the woman who begins to realize that she’s not straight while watching a video by a queer creator on TikTok). Because Widow Fantasies is a flash fiction collection, I honed in on certain qualities of a character that showed who they were by showing who they were not.
BS: The opening story, “Jaws,” has these powerful lines: “When Reza’s mistress died last year, Jaws was the only one I let see me cry. She understood: it was my loss as much as his. The woman had been oxygen to our little bowl of stagnant water. She’d given me room to breathe.” It evokes a sense of suffocation and a desperate need for air. Reading your book, I felt that each vignette offered a similar search for that breath. Was this a conscious choice?
HG: The water theme and suffocation have been pointed out to me by readers; it was not something I was aware of while I was writing. But it makes sense! Women are drowning in societal and cultural and familial expectations and systemic oppression and indifference. While it wasn’t intentional I personally feel that I am often struggling to breathe as a woman.
BS: Your stories brim with philosophical musings and subtext. In “”No Darling, You’re so Much Better at Public Speaking,” we encounter a woman, Farrah, married to a man 37 years her senior, grappling with the complexities of their age gap – wondering the “what if” she had met him when he was younger while simultaneously appreciating the life they’ve built. Then, in “Caviar,” there’s a moment of voyeuristic intimacy. The narrator observes her husband reflecting on “absence” as “something you can feel because of the way it bends you.” This line felt like a wink to the book title. It resonated deeply with me and speaks to a profound philosophical idea about the nature of absence and its impact on the individual. Could you elaborate on how you weaved these philosophical threads into your flash fiction.
HG: I am so glad the line resonated with you! Thank you! The more philosophical musings were not intentional, really. It’s a reflection of myself, and I also see it as an extension of my poet self: the self that asks the self these questions. My characters and stories are in conversation with themselves too, all the time. Often because, as you’ve said, there’s absence. There’s loneliness, in being a woman, but also, being simply alive. I don’t think loneliness is an experience unique to women.
BS: Many of the vignettes are rich with unique metaphors. In “Koshgel,” a Persian term of endearment, young Reya presents her pregnant mother with a drawing of a scorpion as a gift. This is a fascinating and somewhat unexpected choice. Could you speak to your decision to use the scorpion as a symbol in this story? What layers of meaning or significance do you associate with it in this context?
HG: I have a large, preserved scorpion that my parents bought me in Bangkok. It’s beautiful and a little terrifying and morbid. The fact I’d been so fascinated by it as a kid despite being scared by it speaks to who I was and who I wanted to be. I wished I wasn’t so squeamish around it. I wished I was braver. “Khoshgel” is the story of a girl who isn’t scared of scorpions: who is brave and who loves them. A girl who is beautiful but also a little terrifying to others in her strangeness. The scorpion symbolizes a nonchalant irreverence I’ve always wanted to embody (but still don’t). After decades of being packed away, I am happy to say that the scorpion—which is displayed in a frame with an equally large and unnerving tarantula—now decorates the wall in my sunroom. Bringing Reya to life on the page finally gave me the courage to do this.
BS: Your collection features a compelling interplay of voices, shifting between the perspectives of mothers, wives, and adult women, and those of children. What motivated you to explore this intergenerational dynamic? How do these contrasting voices contribute to the overall themes and impact of the collection?
HG: Subjugation starts at a young age. I experienced the discomfort of unwanted attention from adult men as early as eleven years old. I remember as a teenager my brothers were allowed to do things I was not. Children are often seen as proto-humans; as not quite fully formed in their humanity and therefore, not deserving of consideration and respect. Being a girl child compounds this insult because so many girls are seen as even lesser proto-humans. It was important for me to capture the fragments of my memories of living in this space.
I now have four kids but there was a time I was certain I didn’t want any children. I used to love baking and cooking. Now, I don’t like to do that at all. I am married to a man, but I am not straight. As I age, I hope not to be seen as any less valuable or complex. I wanted to make sure I painted a more inclusive picture of what being a woman can be. I know many wonderful, gorgeous, fascinating women of all ages who take my breath away. I did not want to suggest that there is only one way to be a girl or a woman. You can have children or not. You can be born with female organs or not. You can be married or not. There are valid ways to exist in these spaces of girl/womanhood.
BS: In “Horse Girls” we meet Nina and Hela, the horse, in a heated intergenerational exchange with Mr. Boyd, a man who sees Nina as entitled and out of touch with the realities of the world. Mr. Boyd accuses Nina of being disconnected, mocking her innocence. Like in some other stories you allow for some humor here. Could you speak to the choices you made in crafting this narrative, particularly your decision to conclude the story in such a way?
HG: This story is a personal favorite of mine because it was written out of petty spite and loosely based on a conversation one of my climate-conscious daughters had with an adult male in our community. He argued with my daughter that climate change wasn’t real. When my daughter told me about her interaction I was furious and channeled my anger into a story where physical harm was inflicted on a buffoonish and hateful man. It was tremendously satisfying. It is an example of how fantasies can help us let off steam and realize what we need.
BS: Which of the stories came first? Which came last? How did you decide and develop the order?
HG: “Tarot of St. Petersburg” was the first story written. It is based on a conversation I had with an acquaintance who was a caregiver for her husband. In a moment of desperation, she consulted a psychic who provided her with the hope of escaping her increasingly untenable situation at home. The story was originally longer and written over a decade ago. I rewrote it to suit this collection. The last story written was “Khoshgel,” which I wrote after the book was accepted for publication. I couldn’t shake Reya! My wonderful editor, Kimmy Beach, who is a master of sequencing helped me put the stories in a compelling order.
BS: Are you working on anything right now?
HG: I just finished a novel, which will be coming out with Palimpsest Press in 2026. It is narrated entirely by a sock puppet and explores (among other things) the way women uphold the patriarchy and how internalized misogyny blinds as to who we are and could be. I am returning to poetry now, which is a lovely, relaxing change of pace. I find poetry makes fewer demands on me, in terms of productivity. With a poem, if I capture one decent thought a week, I’m over the moon—never mind finishing an entire poem.
Widow Fantasies was published by Gordon Hill Press in September 2024.