Jack the Lad and Bloody Mary

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