If someone told you that one of your Plainsboro neighbors, a nurse with a demanding job in a neonatal intensive care unit, had just dashed off a novel in her spare time, your first thought might be “how nice, what a wonderful hobby, the perfect kind of diversion for the cold winter months.”
But Priscille Sibley’s debut novel, “The Promise of Stardust,” is being taken most seriously by the publishing world. Just published last month by William Morrow, a branch of one of the largest publishing houses in the world, HarperCollins, the novel has already become a focus for several high-profile book clubs including Target, Double Day and Literary Guild, all of which have selected “Stardust” for their reading lists. The book has also been named one of the Independent Bookseller Association’s “Great Reads” for February.
“The Promise of Stardust” is likely to entertain its readers from its very first paragraphs as it vaults into the midst of a tragic situation, which unfolds with concentrated ferocity over the course of the book’s first 11 pages.
The curtain opens on neurosurgeon Matt Beaulieu in his office at the hospital. Within sentences, he finds himself in the midst of personal crisis. He discovers that his beloved wife Elle, has been rushed to the hospital after a fall from a ladder. Surgery reveals the worst: Elle is irreversibly brain dead, beyond all hope of recovery. The surgical procedure reveals something else, something completely unexpected: Elle is also pregnant. Motivated in part by a longing to cling to some reminder of Elle, Matt immediately throws himself into a labyrinthine legal battle to save the unborn child in the face of an advance directive which Elle — scarred by the memory of her own mother’s glacially slow death — had signed as a teenager.
Though legal documents demand that Elle’s life-support be discontinued, Matt is convinced that his wife’s urge to protect her unborn child would have been stronger than her desire to serve her own interests. Elle had yearned for a baby, but the couple’s past experiences with pregnancy had always spelled tragic loss. “The Promise of Stardust” is propelled by the agony of difficult situations to which no clear answers can ever be found. Should Elle’s right to die trump the chances at life for her unborn child? How can one best honor the wishes of those who can no longer articulate them for themselves?
As Matt’s struggle unfolds, the narrative shifts between an unraveling present and the past that informs it, between the novel’s present conflict and the individual histories that make is so devastating.
Over coffee at It’s a Grind coffeehouse in the heart of Plainsboro, Sibley begins the interview by insisting that she was a “late-bloomer.” It seems difficult to associate “late” with Priscille Sibley. Sibley, with her rosy cheeks, delicate features, and honey-blonde hair that seemed to fall as if by chance at the perfect spot on her shoulder, seems anything but late.
Of course, it’s also hard to imagine that the seemingly demure, soft-spoken Sibley met her husband while sky-diving or that she still works as an RN in the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Peter’s University Hospital in New Brunswick. At the time of the interview Sibley is preparing for one of her usual grueling three days of 12-hour shifts at the hospital. When asked how long she had wanted to pursue a career in nursing, she answers wryly, “Oh, since I was about three.”
It was then that Sibley was hospitalized with pneumonia. Though she indulged in cursory interests in various pursuits — as every child does — her passion for healthcare remained strong. Sibley fell in love with books at an early age as well and she reels off the names of 19th-century classics (she has a particular affection for Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables) with the ease that only great affection can bestow.
Sibley was born in Maine, the youngest of three daughters. While her mother was a full-time homemaker, her father served as circulation director for the Portland Press Herald and the Maine Sunday Telegram. After graduating from South Portland High School in 1976, Sibley studied biology and eventually dedicated herself to nursing, earning her degree at Thomas Jefferson University’s School of Nursing.
Sibley, her husband, Tim, a vice president of asset management at a financial services firm, and their three sons have lived in Plainsboro for the last decade. Sibley’s eldest son is 19 and a student at Rider. Sibley’s 16-year-old twins are students at High School North.
Aspiring novelists often wonder how writing attracts the attention of a major publishing house and how a manuscript emerges from its chrysalis in book form. Sibley links her affinity with writing to chronic sleep deprivation: “I was an insomniac; I told myself stories. I love telling stories.” Sibley confessed that sometimes she still awakens in the middle of the night with an idea that simply must be put to paper. Indeed, when asked how she balances work and writing, she cites the help of an understanding husband and a tendency to “live, breathe and eat writing.”
Sibley describes her writing process as “chaotic.” For her, the order of the narrative is far from linear and even in conception, is far from fully formed. Sibley explains the fumbling struggle of composing narrative with the circularity of the following statement: “You learn to write the novel you’re writing.”
Writers’ groups have also contributed to Sibley’s development. She is a member of several, including the Liberty State Fiction Writers, based at the Edison Public Library, and an online group, the Backspace Writer’s Forum (www.bksp.org).
Sibley describes the intensity of sessions with her fellow writers. Often during group meetings, every sentence was contested; she and her peers “wrangled over words” mercilessly. Members of her groups provided more general perspective as well, imparting technical knowledge of other fields — such as law — so that Sibley’s fictional narrative remained true-to-life. From the writers’ groups came two important connections — agent Laney Katz Becker of the Greenwich Village-based Markson Thoma Literary Agency and editor Emily Krump at HarperCollins.
Sibley warns that the transition from manuscript to full-blown novel is far from magical. In fact, finding a literary agent is not always an easy task-and a literary agent is often a necessity as most major publishing houses do not consider manuscripts by authors without agents. Sibley’s agent, however, was a boon. From there, a number of editors clamored to purchase the book. Sibley has high praise for Krump, saying that the editor “had a keen sense of the story I wanted to tell.”
For Sibley one element is consistent despite the chaos of writing and the struggles of rewriting: an abiding interest in connection with an audience. Above all, “The Promise of Stardust” is a novel aimed at entertaining its readership. Even when asked about favorite authors, Sibley extends the list to “anyone I fall in love with.” Indeed, Sibley sees the core of fiction writing as entertainment and believes that the novelist’s calling is to be a storyteller.
As she put it (with her tendency to juxtaposition verbs for maximum effect), “I wrote the novel I wanted to read.” Accordingly to Sibley, the best narratives draw readers into the action. And one of the most powerful ways to accomplish that is through characters — they have to be likable enough to inspire readers into investing in the story. Sibley recalls a statement that Kurt Vonnegut made in the preface to his short story collection, Bagombo Snuff Box: “Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.”
Part of what makes “The Promise of Stardust” so readable is the fact that none of its characters is entirely unlikable. To be sure, certain figures seem perfectly reprehensible and others simply perfect, but as the narrative develops, no single character remains entirely virtuous and no character — even the ones that often behave in a reprehensible manner — is without some redeeming quality.
Perhaps this ambiguity is part of the reason “The Promise of Stardust” is able to tackle the conflict between a right to die and a right to live, between what defines “life” and “death” so in such a unique way. To be sure, Sibley’s years as a nurse in neonatal units where such questions are all too real lends the novel’s central problem an especially visceral, “in the trenches” feel. In fact, during her time as a registered nurse, Sibley has encountered a situation similar to the one at the heart of “Stardust,” though the individual involved was a young child.
The “Promise of Stardust” is a novel deeply invested in the power of advanced directives: “It doesn’t have to be a complicated process. You can download an advanced health care directive from the Internet,” she says. “After you fill it out, you can have it notarized. It is a good idea to discuss it with your family so they know what you want, designate someone you trust to have your medical power of attorney if you are unable to make your own decisions.”
Sibley’s view is non-partisan: “There may come a time when we are unable to voice our own wishes and we should all consider who we would want to and who would be able to best voice our needs for us. It’s a good idea to have that discussion in advance.”
As the interview at It’s a Grind moves toward an ending, Sibley hints at the inspiration for “The Promise of Stardust.” She wrote about something that troubled her, tackling issues that rankle “at her very core.” Sibley reflects on how often she herself has mused about the power of medicine, its limits, and whether maintaining a patient’s life is always the best course of action for the patient.
Though “The Promise of Stardust” is in large part a fiction written to capture attention and entertain, it does so by dramatizing a situation that addresses issues reaching to the very foundations of human life. Although the events she relates are sensational, Sibley manages not to sensationalize them. And this Plainsboro resident has a novel to prove it.
