Chris Binchy
Chris Binchy’s third novel, Open-handed, presents a gritty picture of Dublin as a city fast learning to adapt to the rapid changes of the last decade.
It is some years into the release of the Celtic Tiger, and there is a hardening, an edginess that wasn’t there in his first book, The Very Man.
The world created by Binchy is one of impressions, fleeting movements, snatches of dialogue. The book opens with a hotel scene, from the point of view of the porters and night workers, those who witness the hidden muck behind the glittering façade. This is what Binchy is good at, showing us the sordid backside of life, ‘places where these people washed and pissed and shat.’ He is attentive to his surroundings, to mood and atmosphere, to the pulse of a city, a moment in its history.
Four characters eventually emerge more distinctly: Victor, a bouncer who is ashamed of his origins and pretends to be Italian, Agnieska, a beautiful Polish bar worker whose boss senses her potential for other work, Marcin, another Polish arrival, who is an archaeologist, but settles for temporary shifts as a night worker, and Dessie, who gets caught up in the life of his dubious employer, Sylvester, for whom he works as a driver.
The novel hints at corruption at every level, giving us enough glimpses to imply that nothing is as it seems. There is a wariness in every exchange, and trust comes with great difficulty. Even in close relationships, there is a loneliness and sense of isolation.
The rhythm of Slyvester’s secret life undergoes a hiccup when a freelance journalist starts probing. The risk of exposure unsettles him just as he is about to make a significant development deal. And Dessie starts wondering if Sylvester will ever give him the contract his wife has been urging him to secure.
With a deftness that comes from knowing this world intimately, Binchy captures the emerging social fabric of an urban environment that has witnessed an influx of immigrants who arrive hopeful, and instead experience exploitation, dislocation, conflict over allegiances and miserable working conditions. It’s not a pretty sight, but it is a compelling story of four individuals who must resist the situation they find themselves in, or succumb to temptation and lose their integrity.
A revealing portrayal of the darker side of Dublin.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The First Psychic
by Peter Lamont
Have you ever heard of Daniel Dunglas Home? Neither have I. Apparently he’s the world’s ‘First Psychic’. And according to Peter Lamont, (also author of The Rise of the Indian Rope Trick), Home is "the most interesting person who ever lived - more interesting than Jesus, Caesar or Napoleon".
Like everyone who ever met Home, by the end of the book, I was truly baffled – but not only by the ‘notorious wizard’, who undoubtedly had a talent for conning ‘the great and the good’, sponging off Europe’s elite, and exploiting people’s thirst for mystery. What was more baffling was how impressed Lamont is by him. He certainly wasn’t my idea of a psychic. The renowned escape artist, Houdini, was disgusted by Home, whom he accused of desecrating the good name of wizardry by associating his ingenious performances with religiosity and spiritualism, and I agree. Why couldn’t he simply have been satisfied with a reputation as a brilliant illusionist?
Clearly, Home was very sensitive, and tuned in to what people were craving. And in the 1800s, what people were craving were answers to the new questions science was throwing up. It was the age of Enlightenment, and there was a frenzy of interest in matters religious and scientific.
Born to a clairvoyant mother and the illegitimate son of an aristocrat in 1833, Home started out life as a sickly, delicate, highly sensitive boy. His parents believing he ‘could not be reared,’ sent him off to a childless aunt. Later, his new family took the boat to America, where he spent his early years.
At the age of 13, Daniel Dunglas Home (pronounced in the Scottish way as Hoom) had his first vision. His closest and only friend appeared at the end of his bed in a glow of light, making three circles with his hand. Daniel understood this to mean his friend had died three days previously. Sure enough, a few days later, a letter arrived to confirm the fact. Soon after this, mysterious rapping sounds were heard in the house, much to the horror of his aunt, who called in ministers from three different churches. Bewildered by their observations, the best comfort they could offer was that Daniel was a ‘lost sheep’ and that if this was the work of Satan, it wasn’t Daniel’s fault.
Later, at the home of a more sympathetic relative, he tried communicating with the rapping sounds, and received intelligent replies. The first was a message from the spirit of his mother, who told him he had ‘a glorious mission’: ‘You will convince the infidel, cure the sick, and console the weeping.’
It was all perfect timing too, because around this time, two young girls, the Fox sisters, also experienced ‘spirit rappings’ within the walls of their home, causing great public excitement. They attempted to communicate with spirits via the rappings, and on apparently obtaining some success, the president, who had recently lost a son, invited them to the White House, where they conducted a séance. Subsequently, they were called back for numerous séances.
Soon, New York was boasting over a hundred mediums. The era of Modern Spiritualism had begun.
As for Home, owing to his poor health, and limited choices of occupation, becoming a medium, with his background, was probably the most glamorous and brazen career he could have chosen. The challenge, of course, was to avoid being labelled a charlatan.
From the age of 18, he began to conduct dramatic séances, at which physical manifestations such as moving tables, performing musical instruments and spirit hands writing messages were witnessed. Word spread, and as séances were the latest fashionable novelty, Daniel was soon being invited to society homes. He always refused payment, believing that it would cheapen his ‘glorious mission’, but accepted the hospitality of his hosts. Before long, he was well known in the most select circles, but owing to poor health – he developed consumption – he was advised to return to England in 1855.
Home duly did so, worming his way into polite English society as easily as he had done in the States. He travelled around Europe, performing for royalty and the aristocracy, and by exploiting his father’s aristocratic bloodline, eventually married the 17-year-old daughter of a wealthy Russian aristocrat, no mean feat for the puny son of a paper miller. His young wife, Sacha, gave him a son, and a daughter who died in infancy. She died herself a few years later, leaving him, after some difficult years chasing it, with her inheritance. His son Gregoire, having been palmed off on other medium friends throughout his upbringing, came to a dodgy end.
After being excommunicated by the Pope for practising sorcery, hounded out of Rome, and dragged through the London courts by an irate widow who claimed she’d simply wanted to adopt him, Home fell out with many of his one-time admirers, and finally died in France in 1886. He was buried beside his infant daughter at St Germain-en-Laye, taking to his grave the mystery of his stunts, which frustrated and eluded his sceptics, including the great Scots physicist David Brewster.
The most interesting man who ever lived? Well, at any rate, he was controversial. Elizabeth Browning considered him ‘wonderful’, while her husband foamed at the mouth whenever he heard his name. He ranted that Home’s séances were the most ‘impudent…piece of imposture (he had seen) in his life’. Charles Darwin considered him, ‘remarkably liberal,’ while Charles Dickens regarded him as ‘an impostor.’ Alexandre Dumas, who was later his best man at his wedding, believed he could ‘conjure up the spirits of the dead,’ while George Eliot wrote, ‘he is an object of moral disgust to me.’ But his champions included Napoleon lll, Queen Sophie of Holland and Tsar Alexander ll, all of whom invited him to be their guest.
Houdini described Daniel as ‘a hypocrite of the deepest dye,’ and a ‘moral pervert’, but could not replicate his more amazing feats. He argued that the newly invented optical devices such as the zoetrope, the stroboscope and the kaleidoscope simply reinforced the notion that the senses could not be trusted. But the dilemma for scientists was that science itself is based on observation. If what witnesses were observing at Daniel’s séances were the result of hallucination, delusion, illusion or mesmerism, what of the evidence of scientific observations?
It is the controversies that Home and similar spiritualist showmen generated, that are interesting. Scientists and rationalists dismissed them as frauds and fakes. To Roman Catholics, they were a blasphemy, and to Protestants, an affront to their sense of God’s order. As for genuine conjurors and illusionists, they were particularly annoyed, undermining as he did, their own performances.
Home did many things in his life. He provoked people’s disgust or amazement. He probably pulled off the greatest con trick of his day, fooling all of the people all of the time. It is delight with this idea that fires Lamont’s account of Home’s life and career. The result is great fun, an entertaining, engrossing, provocative portrayal of Victorian society in the mid 1800s. You have to laugh. At the end of the day, Home has the last laugh. He is, after all being resurrected from his rightful place in obscurity, by Lamont. Or, maybe Lamont is having the last laugh, right now.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
Have you ever heard of Daniel Dunglas Home? Neither have I. Apparently he’s the world’s ‘First Psychic’. And according to Peter Lamont, (also author of The Rise of the Indian Rope Trick), Home is "the most interesting person who ever lived - more interesting than Jesus, Caesar or Napoleon".
Like everyone who ever met Home, by the end of the book, I was truly baffled – but not only by the ‘notorious wizard’, who undoubtedly had a talent for conning ‘the great and the good’, sponging off Europe’s elite, and exploiting people’s thirst for mystery. What was more baffling was how impressed Lamont is by him. He certainly wasn’t my idea of a psychic. The renowned escape artist, Houdini, was disgusted by Home, whom he accused of desecrating the good name of wizardry by associating his ingenious performances with religiosity and spiritualism, and I agree. Why couldn’t he simply have been satisfied with a reputation as a brilliant illusionist?
Clearly, Home was very sensitive, and tuned in to what people were craving. And in the 1800s, what people were craving were answers to the new questions science was throwing up. It was the age of Enlightenment, and there was a frenzy of interest in matters religious and scientific.
Born to a clairvoyant mother and the illegitimate son of an aristocrat in 1833, Home started out life as a sickly, delicate, highly sensitive boy. His parents believing he ‘could not be reared,’ sent him off to a childless aunt. Later, his new family took the boat to America, where he spent his early years.
At the age of 13, Daniel Dunglas Home (pronounced in the Scottish way as Hoom) had his first vision. His closest and only friend appeared at the end of his bed in a glow of light, making three circles with his hand. Daniel understood this to mean his friend had died three days previously. Sure enough, a few days later, a letter arrived to confirm the fact. Soon after this, mysterious rapping sounds were heard in the house, much to the horror of his aunt, who called in ministers from three different churches. Bewildered by their observations, the best comfort they could offer was that Daniel was a ‘lost sheep’ and that if this was the work of Satan, it wasn’t Daniel’s fault.
Later, at the home of a more sympathetic relative, he tried communicating with the rapping sounds, and received intelligent replies. The first was a message from the spirit of his mother, who told him he had ‘a glorious mission’: ‘You will convince the infidel, cure the sick, and console the weeping.’
It was all perfect timing too, because around this time, two young girls, the Fox sisters, also experienced ‘spirit rappings’ within the walls of their home, causing great public excitement. They attempted to communicate with spirits via the rappings, and on apparently obtaining some success, the president, who had recently lost a son, invited them to the White House, where they conducted a séance. Subsequently, they were called back for numerous séances.
Soon, New York was boasting over a hundred mediums. The era of Modern Spiritualism had begun.
As for Home, owing to his poor health, and limited choices of occupation, becoming a medium, with his background, was probably the most glamorous and brazen career he could have chosen. The challenge, of course, was to avoid being labelled a charlatan.
From the age of 18, he began to conduct dramatic séances, at which physical manifestations such as moving tables, performing musical instruments and spirit hands writing messages were witnessed. Word spread, and as séances were the latest fashionable novelty, Daniel was soon being invited to society homes. He always refused payment, believing that it would cheapen his ‘glorious mission’, but accepted the hospitality of his hosts. Before long, he was well known in the most select circles, but owing to poor health – he developed consumption – he was advised to return to England in 1855.
Home duly did so, worming his way into polite English society as easily as he had done in the States. He travelled around Europe, performing for royalty and the aristocracy, and by exploiting his father’s aristocratic bloodline, eventually married the 17-year-old daughter of a wealthy Russian aristocrat, no mean feat for the puny son of a paper miller. His young wife, Sacha, gave him a son, and a daughter who died in infancy. She died herself a few years later, leaving him, after some difficult years chasing it, with her inheritance. His son Gregoire, having been palmed off on other medium friends throughout his upbringing, came to a dodgy end.
After being excommunicated by the Pope for practising sorcery, hounded out of Rome, and dragged through the London courts by an irate widow who claimed she’d simply wanted to adopt him, Home fell out with many of his one-time admirers, and finally died in France in 1886. He was buried beside his infant daughter at St Germain-en-Laye, taking to his grave the mystery of his stunts, which frustrated and eluded his sceptics, including the great Scots physicist David Brewster.
The most interesting man who ever lived? Well, at any rate, he was controversial. Elizabeth Browning considered him ‘wonderful’, while her husband foamed at the mouth whenever he heard his name. He ranted that Home’s séances were the most ‘impudent…piece of imposture (he had seen) in his life’. Charles Darwin considered him, ‘remarkably liberal,’ while Charles Dickens regarded him as ‘an impostor.’ Alexandre Dumas, who was later his best man at his wedding, believed he could ‘conjure up the spirits of the dead,’ while George Eliot wrote, ‘he is an object of moral disgust to me.’ But his champions included Napoleon lll, Queen Sophie of Holland and Tsar Alexander ll, all of whom invited him to be their guest.
Houdini described Daniel as ‘a hypocrite of the deepest dye,’ and a ‘moral pervert’, but could not replicate his more amazing feats. He argued that the newly invented optical devices such as the zoetrope, the stroboscope and the kaleidoscope simply reinforced the notion that the senses could not be trusted. But the dilemma for scientists was that science itself is based on observation. If what witnesses were observing at Daniel’s séances were the result of hallucination, delusion, illusion or mesmerism, what of the evidence of scientific observations?
It is the controversies that Home and similar spiritualist showmen generated, that are interesting. Scientists and rationalists dismissed them as frauds and fakes. To Roman Catholics, they were a blasphemy, and to Protestants, an affront to their sense of God’s order. As for genuine conjurors and illusionists, they were particularly annoyed, undermining as he did, their own performances.
Home did many things in his life. He provoked people’s disgust or amazement. He probably pulled off the greatest con trick of his day, fooling all of the people all of the time. It is delight with this idea that fires Lamont’s account of Home’s life and career. The result is great fun, an entertaining, engrossing, provocative portrayal of Victorian society in the mid 1800s. You have to laugh. At the end of the day, Home has the last laugh. He is, after all being resurrected from his rightful place in obscurity, by Lamont. Or, maybe Lamont is having the last laugh, right now.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
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