Joseph Connolly
Faber and Faber
€17.80
Plunging into Joseph Connolly’s pre-war London is like tumbling into a more modern Dickens world, or stylistically, into the mind of Joyce’s Molly Bloom. A daring narrator, Connolly takes us into the thoughts of several East Enders and one mislaid West Ender at the outset of the Second World War. His point of view weaves from omniscient to various interior monologues, sometimes mid-sentence. But the narrative voice of each of the main characters is so individual, it’s easy to keep track.
Jack Robertson is an engaging fellow, with a chip on his shoulder because of his lack of education. Quick to anger, it riles him that his friend, Jonathan Leakey has made it good, calling Jackie a fool for doing labouring work for a pittance. Jonny offers to introduce him to the ineffable Nigel Wisely, whose fabulously lavish mansion, butler and assortment of exquisite female companions are an indication of his wealth. After losing his job, Jackie reluctantly agrees to a visit – and from that moment, his life changes. Before long, he’s known as Jack the Lad.
His Mary is a sweetheart with the most innocent nature, and she’s devoted to him. Her days revolve around their son Jeremy, keeping house, entertaining their friends and feeding her man. With more schooling than Jack, she loves to read, and is kept supplied with books by the idealistic Dickie Wheatley, educated at Eaton, who is studying to be a doctor, and would rather work in the East End helping those genuinely in need than in Mayfair with wealthy hypochondriacs.
While the behaviour of Jack the Lad and Dickie (called Weakly by Jonny) change dramatically as the war progresses, the greatest change occurs in Mary, who responds in an extraordinary way to the situation she finds herself in.
Finely researched to the last detail, the social and historic realism is faultless. The book is comparable to A Woman in Berlin (by Anonymous) in the way it conveys what becomes of ordinary city civilians trying to survive during wartime. It’s a portrait that begins cosily, gradually darkening to sinister layers of black. As to style, Jack the Lad and Bloody Mary (great title) is the colourful literary equivalent of a Gauguin painting. Once the various classes of language and dialogue take hold, the story is addictive. Definitely recommended.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
This Human Season
Louise Dean
Scribner
€16.99
It’s November 1979, in Belfast. British soldiers storm a Catholic house, searching for weapons. Kathleen’s elder son, Sean, is in Long Kesh prison, after a year on the run. Last time, they mistakenly arrested her husband while Sean escaped out the back.
Meanwhile John Dunn, after 22 years in the army, is starting work as a prison warden. Ten wardens have already been targeted by the IRA. John has also recently discovered he has a son, Mark.
This Human Season follows the separate stories of these two characters, their families, relationships and love for Belfast. John likes that it’s a ‘hard’ place, not like England, ‘all white bread and keeping the lawn trimmed.’ He has already served two tours in Belfast, and cannot imagine leaving. It emerges that he has never reconciled himself to a dark incident in his past, and wants to do the right thing now. He admires the Catholics, their austere humour, the discipline and cohesive, hardcore ideology of the IRA prisoners, who refuse to wear prison uniforms until they are reclassified as prisoners of war. ‘On the blanket’, they are also involved in a ‘dirt’ protest, smearing their cells with excrement, and there is talk of a hunger strike. In retaliation, the prison wardens, with instructions to break the prisoners’ resolve, play mind games, and inflict humiliating pain.
At times, Kathleen bitterly regrets not having moved down south, but her younger son Liam, who already makes petrol bombs and joins the rioting, says fiercely, ‘you’ll never take me away from here.’ When John’s girlfriend Angie warns his visiting son about West Belfast, vividly describing atrocities, Mark sees in her eyes, something ‘proud. Excited.’ A burning passion for this life-and-death existence seems addictive on both sides.
In researching this book, Louise Dean interviewed over a hundred prison guards, IRA members, Unionists, mothers, priests. She studied the Northern accent intently, and for the most part, the dialogue is convincing.
A novel set in the North is a balancing act, particularly for an English author, but Dean manages to walk the tightrope without toppling. In intensity, This Human Season is to the North what JM Coetzee’s Disgrace is to South Africa. Only in this case, the stark pain of the place is relieved with plenty of Belfast humour. Compelling and powerful, it’s definitely a contender for major literary awards.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
Scribner
€16.99
It’s November 1979, in Belfast. British soldiers storm a Catholic house, searching for weapons. Kathleen’s elder son, Sean, is in Long Kesh prison, after a year on the run. Last time, they mistakenly arrested her husband while Sean escaped out the back.
Meanwhile John Dunn, after 22 years in the army, is starting work as a prison warden. Ten wardens have already been targeted by the IRA. John has also recently discovered he has a son, Mark.
This Human Season follows the separate stories of these two characters, their families, relationships and love for Belfast. John likes that it’s a ‘hard’ place, not like England, ‘all white bread and keeping the lawn trimmed.’ He has already served two tours in Belfast, and cannot imagine leaving. It emerges that he has never reconciled himself to a dark incident in his past, and wants to do the right thing now. He admires the Catholics, their austere humour, the discipline and cohesive, hardcore ideology of the IRA prisoners, who refuse to wear prison uniforms until they are reclassified as prisoners of war. ‘On the blanket’, they are also involved in a ‘dirt’ protest, smearing their cells with excrement, and there is talk of a hunger strike. In retaliation, the prison wardens, with instructions to break the prisoners’ resolve, play mind games, and inflict humiliating pain.
At times, Kathleen bitterly regrets not having moved down south, but her younger son Liam, who already makes petrol bombs and joins the rioting, says fiercely, ‘you’ll never take me away from here.’ When John’s girlfriend Angie warns his visiting son about West Belfast, vividly describing atrocities, Mark sees in her eyes, something ‘proud. Excited.’ A burning passion for this life-and-death existence seems addictive on both sides.
In researching this book, Louise Dean interviewed over a hundred prison guards, IRA members, Unionists, mothers, priests. She studied the Northern accent intently, and for the most part, the dialogue is convincing.
A novel set in the North is a balancing act, particularly for an English author, but Dean manages to walk the tightrope without toppling. In intensity, This Human Season is to the North what JM Coetzee’s Disgrace is to South Africa. Only in this case, the stark pain of the place is relieved with plenty of Belfast humour. Compelling and powerful, it’s definitely a contender for major literary awards.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
The City of Falling Angels
John Berendt
Sceptre
€26.00
This evocatively-titled non-fiction book brings to life the mystery and decadence of Venice, which Berendt describes as ‘a floating city of domes and bell towers’. Arriving in the city three days after the burning of the splendid Fenice, arguably one of the most beautiful opera houses in the world, Berendt scrupulously records the aftermath of the devastation. He describes the former glory of the sumptuous building, with its ‘crescendo of ornamentation’: sartyrs, nymphs, angels and swirls being only some of the decorative adornments of a building that also ironically boasted frescos of Dante’s inferno. Years later, these would be painstakingly salvaged and restored. In the meantime, the brilliant prosecutor, Felice Casson, renowned for his giveaway crimson blush when stirred to passion, investigates allegations of arson and/or negligence.
The fire itself, witnessed by famed master glassmaker Archimede Seguso, is captured on vases and bowls in flickering, swirling colours of blue, green, yellow, orange.
Save Venice, a charity for the ultra-rich in America to raise money for the restoration of Venetian buildings and artefacts, has its own agendas, dilettante socialites and in-fighting, which Berendt follows with wry detachment.
Moving in privileged circles, Berendt meets members of the Curtis family, originally from Boston, but owners of the Palazzo Barbaro since 1885. Now, five generations later, they are forced to sell their beloved palace.
He uncovers the scandal associated with Ezra Pound’s literary legacy, which appears to have been hoodwinked from his mistress of 50 years, Olga Rudge, with whom Pound was living in Venice in his last years. She was paid $7 000 for assets worth millions.
Also woven into the tale of Venice is the story of Mario Stephani, a poet, who commits suicide, and the ensuing suspicions over his will. Add to these mysteries Massimo Donadon, the rat man, and Mario Moro, soldier, sailor, fireman, policeman, airman, vaporetto and conductor to mention some of his personae, and you get a sense of a narrative populated by fascinating characters, in a city famed for its romantic allure.
Ignoring the downsides of this undoubtedly bewitching city, Berendt (also the best-selling author of Midnight in the garden of Good and Evil) weaves a spell with this meticulously researched, affectionately recorded portrait of an aristocratic Venice and its residents. A beautiful book, marred only by numerous proof-reading errors and incorrect pagination of its contents page.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
Sceptre
€26.00
This evocatively-titled non-fiction book brings to life the mystery and decadence of Venice, which Berendt describes as ‘a floating city of domes and bell towers’. Arriving in the city three days after the burning of the splendid Fenice, arguably one of the most beautiful opera houses in the world, Berendt scrupulously records the aftermath of the devastation. He describes the former glory of the sumptuous building, with its ‘crescendo of ornamentation’: sartyrs, nymphs, angels and swirls being only some of the decorative adornments of a building that also ironically boasted frescos of Dante’s inferno. Years later, these would be painstakingly salvaged and restored. In the meantime, the brilliant prosecutor, Felice Casson, renowned for his giveaway crimson blush when stirred to passion, investigates allegations of arson and/or negligence.
The fire itself, witnessed by famed master glassmaker Archimede Seguso, is captured on vases and bowls in flickering, swirling colours of blue, green, yellow, orange.
Save Venice, a charity for the ultra-rich in America to raise money for the restoration of Venetian buildings and artefacts, has its own agendas, dilettante socialites and in-fighting, which Berendt follows with wry detachment.
Moving in privileged circles, Berendt meets members of the Curtis family, originally from Boston, but owners of the Palazzo Barbaro since 1885. Now, five generations later, they are forced to sell their beloved palace.
He uncovers the scandal associated with Ezra Pound’s literary legacy, which appears to have been hoodwinked from his mistress of 50 years, Olga Rudge, with whom Pound was living in Venice in his last years. She was paid $7 000 for assets worth millions.
Also woven into the tale of Venice is the story of Mario Stephani, a poet, who commits suicide, and the ensuing suspicions over his will. Add to these mysteries Massimo Donadon, the rat man, and Mario Moro, soldier, sailor, fireman, policeman, airman, vaporetto and conductor to mention some of his personae, and you get a sense of a narrative populated by fascinating characters, in a city famed for its romantic allure.
Ignoring the downsides of this undoubtedly bewitching city, Berendt (also the best-selling author of Midnight in the garden of Good and Evil) weaves a spell with this meticulously researched, affectionately recorded portrait of an aristocratic Venice and its residents. A beautiful book, marred only by numerous proof-reading errors and incorrect pagination of its contents page.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
Boy in the World
Niall Williams
HarperCollins
€16.60
Having established a deserved reputation for the poetic lyricism of his prose with his best-selling Four Letters of Love and As It Is in Heaven, Niall Williams pulls it off again with this latest offering. Although the main character’s name is rarely mentioned, giving him an ‘Everyboy’ status, Boy in the World is about a personal journey.
The story begins on the morning of the boy’s Confirmation, when his grandfather hands him a letter written by his long-dead mother. Already confused by his identity, from the moment he receives the letter, the boy’s world is turned upside-down. His first instinct is to throw the letter into the fire, but his grandfather retrieves it for him, partly burnt, and persuades him to read it. When the letter mentions the unreadable identity of his father, saying that he worked for the BBC in London, his immediate instinct is to find him.
With only his confirmation money, the boy secretly sets out, along the way meeting both blackguards and guardian angels. He learns lessons, and leaves an impact on those he meets. His quest takes him from London, to Paris, Frankfurt and further, at a time when Europe is being terrorised by bomb attacks. Having discovered the probable name of his father, he Googles him, to find he may be Egyptian, and a Muslim, working undercover in terrorist cells. This leads him to seek knowledge about Islam, and to question religion further.
Saved on more than one occasion by Bridget, a novice nun on the run from her own monotonous life, the boy begins to fear for her safety as he realises everyone belonging to him dies. When he reads in the paper that his grandfather has been killed in a car accident, he feels completely alone in the world, with no reason to go home, until he is guided to the next step.
Boy in the World is more than a contemporary rite of passage story. It is more than a tale about a world stricken by urban terrorism, or a meditation on the existence or not of God. In spite of the tragic circumstances of the boy’s life, his journey is ultimately a redemptive one, with coincidences, signs and intuition leading to a life filled with hope and purpose again. While Williams writes with a simple, philosophical insightfulness similar to Paulo Cuelo, his uniquely exquisite imagery and delicacy shimmers on every page.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
HarperCollins
€16.60
Having established a deserved reputation for the poetic lyricism of his prose with his best-selling Four Letters of Love and As It Is in Heaven, Niall Williams pulls it off again with this latest offering. Although the main character’s name is rarely mentioned, giving him an ‘Everyboy’ status, Boy in the World is about a personal journey.
The story begins on the morning of the boy’s Confirmation, when his grandfather hands him a letter written by his long-dead mother. Already confused by his identity, from the moment he receives the letter, the boy’s world is turned upside-down. His first instinct is to throw the letter into the fire, but his grandfather retrieves it for him, partly burnt, and persuades him to read it. When the letter mentions the unreadable identity of his father, saying that he worked for the BBC in London, his immediate instinct is to find him.
With only his confirmation money, the boy secretly sets out, along the way meeting both blackguards and guardian angels. He learns lessons, and leaves an impact on those he meets. His quest takes him from London, to Paris, Frankfurt and further, at a time when Europe is being terrorised by bomb attacks. Having discovered the probable name of his father, he Googles him, to find he may be Egyptian, and a Muslim, working undercover in terrorist cells. This leads him to seek knowledge about Islam, and to question religion further.
Saved on more than one occasion by Bridget, a novice nun on the run from her own monotonous life, the boy begins to fear for her safety as he realises everyone belonging to him dies. When he reads in the paper that his grandfather has been killed in a car accident, he feels completely alone in the world, with no reason to go home, until he is guided to the next step.
Boy in the World is more than a contemporary rite of passage story. It is more than a tale about a world stricken by urban terrorism, or a meditation on the existence or not of God. In spite of the tragic circumstances of the boy’s life, his journey is ultimately a redemptive one, with coincidences, signs and intuition leading to a life filled with hope and purpose again. While Williams writes with a simple, philosophical insightfulness similar to Paulo Cuelo, his uniquely exquisite imagery and delicacy shimmers on every page.
Afric McGlinchey
Reviewed in The Irish Examiner
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