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Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha
*A BBC BETWEEN THE COVERS BOOKER PRIZE GEM* WINNER OF THE BOOKER PRIZE 1993Paddy Clarke is ten years old.Paddy Clarke lights fires. Paddy Clarke's name is written in wet cement all over Barrytown. Paddy Clarke's heroes are Father Damien (and the lepers), Geronimo and George Best. Paddy Clarke knows the exact moment to knock a dead scab from his knee. Paddy Clarke hates his brother Francis because that’s the rule. Paddy Clarke loves his Ma and Da, but it seems like they don't love each other, and Paddy wants to understand, but can't.
290 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1993
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12666 people want to read
About the author
Roddy Doyle
127 books1,646 followersRoddy Doyle (Irish: Ruaidhrí Ó Dúill) is an Irish novelist, dramatist and screenwriter. Several of his books have been made into successful films, beginning with The Commitments in 1991. He won the Booker Prize in 1993.
Doyle grew up in Kilbarrack, Dublin. He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from University College, Dublin. He spent several years as an English and geography teacher before becoming a full-time writer in 1993.
Doyle grew up in Kilbarrack, Dublin. He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from University College, Dublin. He spent several years as an English and geography teacher before becoming a full-time writer in 1993.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,259 reviews
December 18, 2025
Another awarded novel about childhood in Ireland. I think it is my 2nd this year. Anyway, it was fine, but nothing to remember over the years.
March 11, 2020
I hate to be facetious about this, but it’s true. I love to read good books as much as I love to discover which ones are actual impostors—that is, which ones are overrated past the norm, books like “On the Road,” “Catcher in the Rye,” or anything by Ayn Rand. Yuck. Well, this one won the Booker, which I can only guess is a HUGE deal. But I guess the year this book was published there were a few other, if any, contenders for the top prize.
It’s certainly not awful. It’s actually entertaining, readable, sometimes funny. There is true mastery of the language here, an even flow. The tone is more tolerable than say, Emma Donoghue’s “Room” which is also about a child growing up. But, although I am not at all a fan of the almighty “Huck Finn”, I must say that this one does not possess that wackiness—there is some unconscious logic to Twain's tale, at the very least. This is a chapterless novel; a pretty ordinary account of a pretty ordinary boy. What is the main motor that keeps the prose congruent, that makes the entire novel work? The fact that Patrick’s parents fight. That's all. They keep it private, they try to keep the kids out of it, yet this still registers within Paddy… he’s human alright, just not a remarkable one.
Indeed Bookers are bestowed upon (like the Pulitzers here in the U.S.) to novels that exemplify the experience of being European (American for a Pulitzer). This hits several targets to become a well-loved book, but it still remains a coming-of-age story of an Irish imp—a precocious, slightly evil ten year old boy. Who do we side with in this account of playground cruelty & cute impressions? With the bully? The victim? In this case, I would say... neither.
Apathy is the worst type of feeling a book can give its reader.
It’s certainly not awful. It’s actually entertaining, readable, sometimes funny. There is true mastery of the language here, an even flow. The tone is more tolerable than say, Emma Donoghue’s “Room” which is also about a child growing up. But, although I am not at all a fan of the almighty “Huck Finn”, I must say that this one does not possess that wackiness—there is some unconscious logic to Twain's tale, at the very least. This is a chapterless novel; a pretty ordinary account of a pretty ordinary boy. What is the main motor that keeps the prose congruent, that makes the entire novel work? The fact that Patrick’s parents fight. That's all. They keep it private, they try to keep the kids out of it, yet this still registers within Paddy… he’s human alright, just not a remarkable one.
Indeed Bookers are bestowed upon (like the Pulitzers here in the U.S.) to novels that exemplify the experience of being European (American for a Pulitzer). This hits several targets to become a well-loved book, but it still remains a coming-of-age story of an Irish imp—a precocious, slightly evil ten year old boy. Who do we side with in this account of playground cruelty & cute impressions? With the bully? The victim? In this case, I would say... neither.
Apathy is the worst type of feeling a book can give its reader.
March 18, 2014
I hate to think that I’m susceptible to some merchandiser’s power of suggestion, but as soon as hearts and Cupids give way to shamrocks and leprechauns (typically Feb. 15), my thoughts often turn towards the Emerald Isle. Of course, when the lovely lass I married accompanied me there last year to celebrate a round-number anniversary, I can be forgiven for thinking about it even more, right? Beyond the history, scenery, culture, silver-tongued locals and tasty libations, there’s the draw of their proud literary tradition. Roddy Doyle has done his part to continue this. Many here know him from his book The Commitments, the first in the Barrytown Trilogy and the basis for a fookin’ brilliant film. Well, PCHHH is no slouch either. It won a Booker in 1993.
Both Doyle and his protagonist are exactly my age. It was interesting to me to see the similarities and differences that a ten year old Dublin lad would experience in 1968. I could relate to the joys of transistor radios and The Man from U.N.C.L.E., for instance, and more generally to that emerging awareness of a complicated world. The horseplay among boys that age was another commonality. (When or where has that not been the case?). Even so, the extremes to which Paddy and his mates took it would have been ruled out of bounds most places. For instance, I’m pretty sure I never tried to set my brother’s lips on fire with lighter fluid, or hobble anyone from the wrong side of the tracks. The overall feel of it was like Ralphie from A Christmas Story had he been speaking about his miserable Irish childhood (a la Angela’s Ashes, though perhaps slightly drier) with the Marquis de Sade as technical advisor.
One aspect of the book that was both similar and different was the emphasis on sports. While stateside the obsessions involved baseball, football (the oblong, American kind) and basketball, over there it was just football (the round, rest-of-the-world kind). George Best was the flashy Irish superstar at Manchester United who was Joe Namath, Mickey Mantle and Dr. J all wrapped into one. In their play-acting matches there was fierce competition for who got to be him. Paddy’s little brother Francis (a.k.a. Sinbad) opted out of that role, preferring to be one of the less celebrated players. I figured it said a lot about the brother relationship that Paddy always worked every advantage to appear the dominant star whereas Sinbad was happy to play an ancillary role, creatively feeding the ball to the scorers, ending up more responsible for the results even if less recognized. The fact that Paddy acknowledged Sinbad’s sacrifice and cleverness was meaningful since we saw only the antagonism prior to that point. George Best also featured in another story when Paddy’s da bought him a cherished copy of Best’s book, autographed by the man himself. Or was it?
Paddy’s vignettes did not constitute a plot, per se. They were closer to stream-of-consciousness, though a post-Joycean variety where obfuscation was less of a goal. Plus, they built towards something of a climax -- an affecting realization. The convergence of Paddy’s growing maturity and empathy levels with his mum’s tears and his da’s sullen demeanor made him view Sinbad and his parents in a new way, but, begorra, I shan’t say more.
Sláinte, Paddy! Sláinte, Sinbad! Your creator made me care. That’s something worthy of a toast in a St. Patrick’s Day tribute, isn’t it?
Both Doyle and his protagonist are exactly my age. It was interesting to me to see the similarities and differences that a ten year old Dublin lad would experience in 1968. I could relate to the joys of transistor radios and The Man from U.N.C.L.E., for instance, and more generally to that emerging awareness of a complicated world. The horseplay among boys that age was another commonality. (When or where has that not been the case?). Even so, the extremes to which Paddy and his mates took it would have been ruled out of bounds most places. For instance, I’m pretty sure I never tried to set my brother’s lips on fire with lighter fluid, or hobble anyone from the wrong side of the tracks. The overall feel of it was like Ralphie from A Christmas Story had he been speaking about his miserable Irish childhood (a la Angela’s Ashes, though perhaps slightly drier) with the Marquis de Sade as technical advisor.
One aspect of the book that was both similar and different was the emphasis on sports. While stateside the obsessions involved baseball, football (the oblong, American kind) and basketball, over there it was just football (the round, rest-of-the-world kind). George Best was the flashy Irish superstar at Manchester United who was Joe Namath, Mickey Mantle and Dr. J all wrapped into one. In their play-acting matches there was fierce competition for who got to be him. Paddy’s little brother Francis (a.k.a. Sinbad) opted out of that role, preferring to be one of the less celebrated players. I figured it said a lot about the brother relationship that Paddy always worked every advantage to appear the dominant star whereas Sinbad was happy to play an ancillary role, creatively feeding the ball to the scorers, ending up more responsible for the results even if less recognized. The fact that Paddy acknowledged Sinbad’s sacrifice and cleverness was meaningful since we saw only the antagonism prior to that point. George Best also featured in another story when Paddy’s da bought him a cherished copy of Best’s book, autographed by the man himself. Or was it?
Paddy’s vignettes did not constitute a plot, per se. They were closer to stream-of-consciousness, though a post-Joycean variety where obfuscation was less of a goal. Plus, they built towards something of a climax -- an affecting realization. The convergence of Paddy’s growing maturity and empathy levels with his mum’s tears and his da’s sullen demeanor made him view Sinbad and his parents in a new way, but, begorra, I shan’t say more.
Sláinte, Paddy! Sláinte, Sinbad! Your creator made me care. That’s something worthy of a toast in a St. Patrick’s Day tribute, isn’t it?
December 23, 2021
Paddy Clarke is a ten-year-old boy living in Barrytown outside of Dublin in the late 1960s. And what a boy Paddy is: wickedly mischievous, very bright and inquisitive, often profound. His thoughts are delightfully disjointed swirling through his head firing off in rapid succession, a stream of consciousness, so like that of most boys his age.
Life for Paddy is centered around his group of friends. Nothing is more important than proving himself to be brave and tough, whether withstanding pain or causing pain, stealing from the stores just to show you can get away with it, making up stories to awe others, and always fearful of being ridiculed or laughed at. Hating and tormenting his little brother is required of a boy that age; older brothers always hate their pesky young siblings or so Paddy thinks, although he deeply cares for the young Francis nicknamed Sinbad.
Paddy is trying to figure out the world, whether it is the war in the newspaper headlines or the changes in his neighborhood. Things are changing, especially in his home. He realizes his parents' arguments might evolve into a change that terrifies him. If only he can get them to stop "distract them, make them laugh - anything". He tries staying awake all night because if he could, it would prevent their fighting. Perhaps if he stood still."If I moved it would start up again, I was allowed to breathe, that was all." He loves his Mum. He loves his Da. Why don't they love each other?
This 1993 Booker Prize winner is such a realistic depiction of what goes on in a child's mind. The tough guy act:"I love smoking. That was fuckin lovely", as he turns green, the silly games Paddy made up and I remembered doing as memories of my young self popped into my head. "I (Paddy) had a book on my head and I had to get up the stairs without it falling off. If it fell off I would die." Using a blindfold to see how being blind would feel didn't work out too well, but being a "mental" was better, he thinks. "You could do anything you wanted and you never really got into proper trouble for it. No homework either and your could slobber your dinner as much as you wanted." There is also the thinking Paddy describing that "aha" moment. "Sometimes, when you were thinking about something, trying to understand it, it opened up in your head without you expecting it to, like it was a soft spongy light unfolding and you understood, it made sense forever."
Paddy's world was tough, often including "wallopings" at home and at school, cruel verbal exchanges, and bloody fights, often more than I needed, but always a beautiful mixture of humor and sadness, always ringing true. Paddy will be in my head and my heart for a long time.
Life for Paddy is centered around his group of friends. Nothing is more important than proving himself to be brave and tough, whether withstanding pain or causing pain, stealing from the stores just to show you can get away with it, making up stories to awe others, and always fearful of being ridiculed or laughed at. Hating and tormenting his little brother is required of a boy that age; older brothers always hate their pesky young siblings or so Paddy thinks, although he deeply cares for the young Francis nicknamed Sinbad.
Paddy is trying to figure out the world, whether it is the war in the newspaper headlines or the changes in his neighborhood. Things are changing, especially in his home. He realizes his parents' arguments might evolve into a change that terrifies him. If only he can get them to stop "distract them, make them laugh - anything". He tries staying awake all night because if he could, it would prevent their fighting. Perhaps if he stood still."If I moved it would start up again, I was allowed to breathe, that was all." He loves his Mum. He loves his Da. Why don't they love each other?
This 1993 Booker Prize winner is such a realistic depiction of what goes on in a child's mind. The tough guy act:"I love smoking. That was fuckin lovely", as he turns green, the silly games Paddy made up and I remembered doing as memories of my young self popped into my head. "I (Paddy) had a book on my head and I had to get up the stairs without it falling off. If it fell off I would die." Using a blindfold to see how being blind would feel didn't work out too well, but being a "mental" was better, he thinks. "You could do anything you wanted and you never really got into proper trouble for it. No homework either and your could slobber your dinner as much as you wanted." There is also the thinking Paddy describing that "aha" moment. "Sometimes, when you were thinking about something, trying to understand it, it opened up in your head without you expecting it to, like it was a soft spongy light unfolding and you understood, it made sense forever."
Paddy's world was tough, often including "wallopings" at home and at school, cruel verbal exchanges, and bloody fights, often more than I needed, but always a beautiful mixture of humor and sadness, always ringing true. Paddy will be in my head and my heart for a long time.
July 30, 2021
Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha reminded me of another famous Irish novel, Patrick McCabe's The Butcher Boy. Both are narrated by a young boys who grow up in Ireland during the 1960's, and both make use of vernacular and local folklore. The Butcher Boy was shortlisted for the Booker in 1992, and Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha won it in 1993.
But don't be dissuaded from reading Paddy Clarke... by thinking that it's more of the same - both books are novels of childhood in the same country at roughly the same time, but achieve different results. Young Francie of The Butcher Boy was a sad, abused derelict who never had a chance to experience childhood and grow up; he retracted into his own, small bubble where the world resembles comic books and films with John Wayne. In comparison, Paddy Clarke is an ordinary young lad who grows up in much better conditions - he has a group of friends with whom he runs around town and does various pranks, has various adventures with various ends.
Francie is a character largely oblivious to things happening around him, and can be genuinely mean and abusive towards others; he observes the world around him largely through the lens of his imagination, which he uses to justify his actions with sometimes truly bizarre logic. Paddy is an observant boy, who sees how the world is changing: he runs around the neighborhood and performs pranks with a group of fellow boys, but also notices how urban development is slowly encroaching the areas they used to play in; he picks on kids but does so largely to remain in the pack, with which it commits mischief in the neighborhood. Still, he begins to notice a creeping disruption into his antics-filled life, as his parents begin to argue. Paddy dedicates himself into improving the mood at home and erase the tension between his parents, in a series of touching scenes: he stays up in the kitchen for a long time, pretending to study, so that he can be between them and make them laugh; he listens to the news and then tries to discuss them with his father in hope with forming a better bond with him. He turns to his younger brother, Sindbad, on whom he used to previously pick up in hope of finding comfort and support. Paddy doesn't quickly mature and grow up; rather he is uprooted from the prank-filled world of childhood. He realizes that there might be no way to stop things that he doesn't understand, and can only hope that somehow - somehow - he will be able to cope and go on.
This is a book worth reading for those who enjoy novels with child narrators; Roddy Doyle captures Paddy's voice very well. While the book might not pull all readers into its world with a disjointed, fractured story, I believe that it would be a mistake to introduce calculated plotting and sequenced events. It's much more effective to read through the eyes of a young boy, who experiences everything vividly. The text flows from one scene to the next like a stream as Paddy's thoughts and emotions mix and change like summer weather, with warm sun but also cold and biting rain.
But don't be dissuaded from reading Paddy Clarke... by thinking that it's more of the same - both books are novels of childhood in the same country at roughly the same time, but achieve different results. Young Francie of The Butcher Boy was a sad, abused derelict who never had a chance to experience childhood and grow up; he retracted into his own, small bubble where the world resembles comic books and films with John Wayne. In comparison, Paddy Clarke is an ordinary young lad who grows up in much better conditions - he has a group of friends with whom he runs around town and does various pranks, has various adventures with various ends.
Francie is a character largely oblivious to things happening around him, and can be genuinely mean and abusive towards others; he observes the world around him largely through the lens of his imagination, which he uses to justify his actions with sometimes truly bizarre logic. Paddy is an observant boy, who sees how the world is changing: he runs around the neighborhood and performs pranks with a group of fellow boys, but also notices how urban development is slowly encroaching the areas they used to play in; he picks on kids but does so largely to remain in the pack, with which it commits mischief in the neighborhood. Still, he begins to notice a creeping disruption into his antics-filled life, as his parents begin to argue. Paddy dedicates himself into improving the mood at home and erase the tension between his parents, in a series of touching scenes: he stays up in the kitchen for a long time, pretending to study, so that he can be between them and make them laugh; he listens to the news and then tries to discuss them with his father in hope with forming a better bond with him. He turns to his younger brother, Sindbad, on whom he used to previously pick up in hope of finding comfort and support. Paddy doesn't quickly mature and grow up; rather he is uprooted from the prank-filled world of childhood. He realizes that there might be no way to stop things that he doesn't understand, and can only hope that somehow - somehow - he will be able to cope and go on.
This is a book worth reading for those who enjoy novels with child narrators; Roddy Doyle captures Paddy's voice very well. While the book might not pull all readers into its world with a disjointed, fractured story, I believe that it would be a mistake to introduce calculated plotting and sequenced events. It's much more effective to read through the eyes of a young boy, who experiences everything vividly. The text flows from one scene to the next like a stream as Paddy's thoughts and emotions mix and change like summer weather, with warm sun but also cold and biting rain.
March 12, 2020
I was first introduced to Roddy Doyle’s stories when I went to see the movie based on his book The Commitments, and then later on read his book The Guts, which follows the characters in The Commitments, and then following that several years later read The Star Dogs: Beyond the Stars, a short book written for younger readers about the Soviet space dogs.
This story takes place in Barrytown, Dublin, but the antics of these young boys could have taken place in just about anyplace where a small town/village/suburb begins to feel the changes that comes with “progress,” as newer houses are being built in what were once fields that offered a buffer from the encroaching world, the changes that accompany said progress. But the real heart of this story is about childhood, how it shapes our lives, our views of others and of the world. It sets the ground upon which we will see the future, our future, and it becomes the source of reminiscences, eventually, both those ones good and sometimes bad. Most often in this story, the boyhood encounters involve the kind of mischievous childhood expeditions you’d expect, but Doyle tells them with such a wonderful mixture of fondness, and vividly brings to life this story through the eyes of childhood wonder.
But childhood isn’t always filled with magic, dreams don’t always come true, and life isn’t always fair. Parents sometimes fight, and children aren’t shielded from the worries of life.
Somehow, Doyle brings all these sides of childhood to life, the pain, the joy, the dreams of childhood years looking to those years of adulthood where we believe we can choose our own destiny with the limitations of childhood removed, and leave behind the memories that haunt us.
I wanted to read this after reading my friend Julie’s review for this. As she says about this book “there isn't one out there that captures a childhood, or the perspective from a 10-year-old child, better than this one.”
Thank you, Julie!
Julie’s review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
This story takes place in Barrytown, Dublin, but the antics of these young boys could have taken place in just about anyplace where a small town/village/suburb begins to feel the changes that comes with “progress,” as newer houses are being built in what were once fields that offered a buffer from the encroaching world, the changes that accompany said progress. But the real heart of this story is about childhood, how it shapes our lives, our views of others and of the world. It sets the ground upon which we will see the future, our future, and it becomes the source of reminiscences, eventually, both those ones good and sometimes bad. Most often in this story, the boyhood encounters involve the kind of mischievous childhood expeditions you’d expect, but Doyle tells them with such a wonderful mixture of fondness, and vividly brings to life this story through the eyes of childhood wonder.
But childhood isn’t always filled with magic, dreams don’t always come true, and life isn’t always fair. Parents sometimes fight, and children aren’t shielded from the worries of life.
Somehow, Doyle brings all these sides of childhood to life, the pain, the joy, the dreams of childhood years looking to those years of adulthood where we believe we can choose our own destiny with the limitations of childhood removed, and leave behind the memories that haunt us.
I wanted to read this after reading my friend Julie’s review for this. As she says about this book “there isn't one out there that captures a childhood, or the perspective from a 10-year-old child, better than this one.”
Thank you, Julie!
Julie’s review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
October 22, 2018
I am now into my final three Booker winners, and this one left me somewhat in two minds. I had never read Doyle before and always had a feeling that I wouldn't enjoy it that much.
So let us start with the positives. Doyle's ability to inhabit the mindset of a boy who is ten at the end of the book is extraordinary, and the final part of the book in which he watches his parents splitting up and falls out with the rather thuggish gang he has spent the rest of the book describing his part in is quite moving - the title doesn't appear until the last two pages. It was also interesting to see how the setting and character of the new suburb of Barrytown changed over the couple of years the story spans, as new developments encroached on the fields and wastelands surrounding Paddy's home.
On the down side, the narrative voice is so unpretentious that it verges on the monotonous, and for most of the book Paddy is just not a very likeable protagonist. It is told in a somewhat random stream of consciousness which perhaps reflects the way childhood memories work.
Overall I am quite glad that I read this one, and I can see some of the reasons it won the prize, but it didn't whet the appetite for reading more Doyle.
So let us start with the positives. Doyle's ability to inhabit the mindset of a boy who is ten at the end of the book is extraordinary, and the final part of the book in which he watches his parents splitting up and falls out with the rather thuggish gang he has spent the rest of the book describing his part in is quite moving - the title doesn't appear until the last two pages. It was also interesting to see how the setting and character of the new suburb of Barrytown changed over the couple of years the story spans, as new developments encroached on the fields and wastelands surrounding Paddy's home.
On the down side, the narrative voice is so unpretentious that it verges on the monotonous, and for most of the book Paddy is just not a very likeable protagonist. It is told in a somewhat random stream of consciousness which perhaps reflects the way childhood memories work.
Overall I am quite glad that I read this one, and I can see some of the reasons it won the prize, but it didn't whet the appetite for reading more Doyle.
September 25, 2019
This was much better than I had expected, based on other reviews, and I think expectation is everything with this novel. It's not really a story with a plot, and the characters experience little in the way of change or development. And it’s not quite a stream of consciousness, either. It’s kind of a mix of impressions and dialogue; the world seen through the mind of its young protagonist. The experience reminded me a bit of Gaddis’s JR, and I think the best way to read this kind of impressionistic narrative is quickly and loosely, without giving too much attention to keeping track of the characters, just sort of letting the thing wash over you.
The way Doyle captures the spirit of childhood is spot-on, and through its sequence of vignettes the novel paints a vivid picture of Ireland somewhere around the middle of last Century. The narrative voice feels authentic, and avoids many of the common cliches and tropes of child narrators, like false innocence, or using the child to emotionally manipulate the reader. It is an intelligent perspective. There is a kind of raw humanity at play in these children, untempered by the refinements of adulthood. They are sharp, ruthless, and amoral.
They children have an expectation of order and certainty in the adult world, which is challenged as those around them fall prey to weakness and failure. Between the lines of happy play we can see the repression, the frustration and the violence of the child’s world, elements which are paralleled in the adult word, which is equally beset, though perhaps in more complex and insoluble ways. There is a sense of the cyclical nature of these problems; the ways they inevitably propagate from one generation to the next. But there is also the small hope that comes in recognising these failings, and striving in oneself to do a little better.
* * * * * * *
My copy of the novel, which I purchased second-hand, has the following written in the title page:
It's fascinating to come across these kinds of notes in second-hand books. I wonder, where did these people live, and what was their relationship? It's too intimate to be just a friend, and the "third Christmas" statement doesn't make sense in a family context. So they must have been in a close relationship of some sort. Did it work out between them? Were they happy together, and did it last?
The note is now a quarter of a century old, and a lot can happen in that time. I wonder about their story. How did this book become a small part of their lives for a period of time, what changes did their lives undergo, and what were the circumstances that caused the book to be given away or sold, for it to eventually make its way into the charity shop, where I noticed it and bought it for a dollar, and placed it on my bookshelf for two years, before finally reading it and writing this review. I wonder, what will be the rest of this book's story?
The way Doyle captures the spirit of childhood is spot-on, and through its sequence of vignettes the novel paints a vivid picture of Ireland somewhere around the middle of last Century. The narrative voice feels authentic, and avoids many of the common cliches and tropes of child narrators, like false innocence, or using the child to emotionally manipulate the reader. It is an intelligent perspective. There is a kind of raw humanity at play in these children, untempered by the refinements of adulthood. They are sharp, ruthless, and amoral.
They children have an expectation of order and certainty in the adult world, which is challenged as those around them fall prey to weakness and failure. Between the lines of happy play we can see the repression, the frustration and the violence of the child’s world, elements which are paralleled in the adult word, which is equally beset, though perhaps in more complex and insoluble ways. There is a sense of the cyclical nature of these problems; the ways they inevitably propagate from one generation to the next. But there is also the small hope that comes in recognising these failings, and striving in oneself to do a little better.
* * * * * * *
My copy of the novel, which I purchased second-hand, has the following written in the title page:
Darling Timmie,
My third Christmas with (you? - word omitted)
is as lovely as the first.
thankyou for making my
1993 so special. I look
forward to an even better
year for you
love
me xox.
It's fascinating to come across these kinds of notes in second-hand books. I wonder, where did these people live, and what was their relationship? It's too intimate to be just a friend, and the "third Christmas" statement doesn't make sense in a family context. So they must have been in a close relationship of some sort. Did it work out between them? Were they happy together, and did it last?
The note is now a quarter of a century old, and a lot can happen in that time. I wonder about their story. How did this book become a small part of their lives for a period of time, what changes did their lives undergo, and what were the circumstances that caused the book to be given away or sold, for it to eventually make its way into the charity shop, where I noticed it and bought it for a dollar, and placed it on my bookshelf for two years, before finally reading it and writing this review. I wonder, what will be the rest of this book's story?
April 8, 2020
Roddy Doyle is a wonderful comic writer - The Commitments and The Snapper are both Recommended - but this one is off-the-scale irritating. People who finish it and even actually like it clearly love kids way more than I do.
March 17, 2018
I've read a lot of books, and I can tell you, there isn't one out there that captures a childhood, or the perspective from a 10-year-old child, better than this one.
Not just any childhood, and certainly not any in 2014 in a middle-class or affluent neighborhood, where the children can now be found indoors, and in silence, save the hum of their tv or computer.
This is a childhood set in Ireland, but these are the childhoods that many of us (before, say 1985) experienced in our own lower and middle class neighborhoods. The childhoods where the parents had little involvement, the kids were a grubby, rude bunch, and trouble could be drummed up on a dime.
This was before schools banned teachers and administrators from hitting you on the hands and heads and promoted any such thing as an anti-bullying policy.
And, even if, in many ways, you can argue we've become too soft, or our children are over-monitored, this book is a great argument as to why things changed. Needed to change.
But author Roddy Doyle isn't preaching about social change, he's just telling a story. Ten-year-old Paddy Clarke's story. It's a meaningful read, despite many stops and starts and a middle that sagged, and if you need quotation marks to distinguish dialogue, you won't find any here.
Doyle nails it, though, he nails our meanness. The meanness that trickles down from our parents, teachers, administrators and adult neighbors, to our kids, who then become mean to their siblings, friends, and neighborhood dogs.
My stomach hurt through many of these stream of consciousness passages of bullying and taunting and I was sure an innocent animal would die at the hands of these brats at some point.
Doyle does a brilliant job of maintaining Voice and staying true to Paddy Clarke's world.
Not just any childhood, and certainly not any in 2014 in a middle-class or affluent neighborhood, where the children can now be found indoors, and in silence, save the hum of their tv or computer.
This is a childhood set in Ireland, but these are the childhoods that many of us (before, say 1985) experienced in our own lower and middle class neighborhoods. The childhoods where the parents had little involvement, the kids were a grubby, rude bunch, and trouble could be drummed up on a dime.
This was before schools banned teachers and administrators from hitting you on the hands and heads and promoted any such thing as an anti-bullying policy.
And, even if, in many ways, you can argue we've become too soft, or our children are over-monitored, this book is a great argument as to why things changed. Needed to change.
But author Roddy Doyle isn't preaching about social change, he's just telling a story. Ten-year-old Paddy Clarke's story. It's a meaningful read, despite many stops and starts and a middle that sagged, and if you need quotation marks to distinguish dialogue, you won't find any here.
Doyle nails it, though, he nails our meanness. The meanness that trickles down from our parents, teachers, administrators and adult neighbors, to our kids, who then become mean to their siblings, friends, and neighborhood dogs.
My stomach hurt through many of these stream of consciousness passages of bullying and taunting and I was sure an innocent animal would die at the hands of these brats at some point.
Doyle does a brilliant job of maintaining Voice and staying true to Paddy Clarke's world.
April 29, 2025
First person narration by title character 9/10-year-old Paddy there is plenty of childlike humour to enjoy, yet I also found this read to be rather poignant. The brutality that is that male age group was to the fore for long parts, but the confusing observations of the breakdown of his parents marriage had an innocence and bewilderment that was moving.
A Booker winner in 1993 and for the first half I wondered why but by the end, I thought this a very clever piece of writing and maybe that was what the judges felt. I had read Roddy Doyles Barrytown Trilogy many years back and recall enjoying them but think this is far stronger. It is hard to write as a first person 10-year-old boy and seem authentic, but the general chat and thoughts of Paddy seems to align with my long past memories of that age. The brutality of those times among the peer group, the interest in the world outside that bubble, and the parents’ relationship not making much sense made for a very thoughtful read.
Recommended.
A Booker winner in 1993 and for the first half I wondered why but by the end, I thought this a very clever piece of writing and maybe that was what the judges felt. I had read Roddy Doyles Barrytown Trilogy many years back and recall enjoying them but think this is far stronger. It is hard to write as a first person 10-year-old boy and seem authentic, but the general chat and thoughts of Paddy seems to align with my long past memories of that age. The brutality of those times among the peer group, the interest in the world outside that bubble, and the parents’ relationship not making much sense made for a very thoughtful read.
Recommended.
July 4, 2020
Booker Prize Winner Paddy Clarke HA HA HA by Roddy Doyle was a bit disappointing, as I expected so much more. Doyle is the author of books such as The Commitments, The Snapper and The Van. In fact, The Van is one of the funniest books I’ve read.
Expectations were high with this story of life in Barrytown, Dublin sometime in the late 1960s. Most of the story is taken up by the exploits of him and his mates, their time at school and life at home with Ma and Da and younger brother Francis (Sinbad) and his 2 little sisters – who don’t really rate a mention by the way.
So, this was really a story about lads and the lads. A very identifiable topic for this reader.
Doyle, writes in a very interesting style and it must have taken a lot, and I mean a lot of effort. He writes as a 10-year-old boy would, including all of the dialogue. There is no discernible plot as we meander through Paddy’s young life. I suppose the only threads I can see which develop in this story are the changing of Barrytown as more council houses are introduced into the area and the relationship between Paddy’s Ma and Da, which seems to become increasingly rocky.
The tangential themes are quite heavy, but the main thrust is the interaction between Paddy and his handful of mates. ALL IN BOY SPEAK.
Boy speak consists of short bursts of meaningless, often puerile and obviously juvenile exchanges, and even though there were some mildly funny moments, it was all a bit much for me. It started off okay, but I grew tired if it half-way through. I just didn’t want to hang around with 10-year-old boys that much!!
Which means Roddy Doyle wrote this book well – hence the Booker Prize, I suppose.
But as a personal experience for this reader, this book presented an interesting picture of bleak working-class Dublin in the late sixties, lots of young lad humour – some of it funny, most of it not, a bit tiring, with a couple of serious themes chucked in.
I’d give this 2.5 stars and lose a half star for the ‘lad’ factor.
2 Stars
Expectations were high with this story of life in Barrytown, Dublin sometime in the late 1960s. Most of the story is taken up by the exploits of him and his mates, their time at school and life at home with Ma and Da and younger brother Francis (Sinbad) and his 2 little sisters – who don’t really rate a mention by the way.
So, this was really a story about lads and the lads. A very identifiable topic for this reader.
Doyle, writes in a very interesting style and it must have taken a lot, and I mean a lot of effort. He writes as a 10-year-old boy would, including all of the dialogue. There is no discernible plot as we meander through Paddy’s young life. I suppose the only threads I can see which develop in this story are the changing of Barrytown as more council houses are introduced into the area and the relationship between Paddy’s Ma and Da, which seems to become increasingly rocky.
The tangential themes are quite heavy, but the main thrust is the interaction between Paddy and his handful of mates. ALL IN BOY SPEAK.
Boy speak consists of short bursts of meaningless, often puerile and obviously juvenile exchanges, and even though there were some mildly funny moments, it was all a bit much for me. It started off okay, but I grew tired if it half-way through. I just didn’t want to hang around with 10-year-old boys that much!!
Which means Roddy Doyle wrote this book well – hence the Booker Prize, I suppose.
But as a personal experience for this reader, this book presented an interesting picture of bleak working-class Dublin in the late sixties, lots of young lad humour – some of it funny, most of it not, a bit tiring, with a couple of serious themes chucked in.
I’d give this 2.5 stars and lose a half star for the ‘lad’ factor.
2 Stars
May 30, 2016
A few weeks ago I was infuriated by 'Hideous Kinky,' a novel purporting to be narrated by a five year old girl. Linguistically all wrong, the story fell down due to these discrepancies. Happily, 'Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha,' told from the POV of a ten year old boy, is a masterclass of perception and imaginative writing. This is a boy's voice speaking about the things within his frame of reference, staccato musings that centre on family and its comforts and agonies, the hierarchy of friends and school, and the world that is the village he calls home, a world that shrinks as the book goes on, with play fields disappearing and poor houses springing up. This concoction is laced with an unceasing list of salient facts, all repeated in the boy's voice with the curious wonder of youth. Structurally, the loose chronology is often eschewed by the meandering connections of memory in Paddy's head, although the increasing preoccupation with the health of his parents' marriage cuts through the tales of boyish banter and scrapes, revealing beyond the laughter and joys of childhood a sadness at the core.
Very often fathers are sidelined in a family, although regularly they sideline themselves. Working all hours God sends to provide for their family, they can be a silent presence at the end of the working day, exhausted and unfulfilled by their lot. This is captured so well in the book; the mother is the centre of family life, she is responsible for all the positive routine for her two boys. The father, meanwhile, is inconstant. His moods are changeable, his routines tending to cultivate the opposite of peace of mind in his children. His brooding silence is challenged, mostly by his wife but also by his eldest son, Paddy, who feels he has the power to stop his parents' fights- but also, by this implication, that he is responsible for them. The nightly vigil the ten year old boy is reduced to, his increasing insecurity and slump into tearful exhaustion, are quietly tragic. The slow disintegration of a family, Ha Ha Ha, Paddy Clarke, spells the death knell of a child's innocence. As a reader your heart breaks between the lines of humour.
Very often fathers are sidelined in a family, although regularly they sideline themselves. Working all hours God sends to provide for their family, they can be a silent presence at the end of the working day, exhausted and unfulfilled by their lot. This is captured so well in the book; the mother is the centre of family life, she is responsible for all the positive routine for her two boys. The father, meanwhile, is inconstant. His moods are changeable, his routines tending to cultivate the opposite of peace of mind in his children. His brooding silence is challenged, mostly by his wife but also by his eldest son, Paddy, who feels he has the power to stop his parents' fights- but also, by this implication, that he is responsible for them. The nightly vigil the ten year old boy is reduced to, his increasing insecurity and slump into tearful exhaustion, are quietly tragic. The slow disintegration of a family, Ha Ha Ha, Paddy Clarke, spells the death knell of a child's innocence. As a reader your heart breaks between the lines of humour.
March 22, 2016
Doyle, one of my favorite authors, nails the stream-of-consciousness of a young boy, Paddy Clarke of the title. While not exactly spelled out, I think Paddy, our narrator, is about 8 when the book starts and 10 when it finishes. He and his mate Kevin are the defacto leaders of a band of boys who rove a developing subdivision in late 1960's Ireland, wreaking havoc on themselves and anyone who might be in their way. I kept picturing the antics of my two younger brothers in our developing subdivision in Central Illinois. My guy told me of the antics of his pals in a developing subdivision west of Ft Worth and we laughed until we cried! Young boy antics are universal and, believe me, Paddy and his friends were inventive!
I laughed out loud many times, especially at the workings of Paddy's mind, where while going about his school, play and home life, he simultaneously imagined himself as Geronimo, their bikes as horses, himself as George Best the Manchester United super-star, etc. I also got teary at times because, this being Roddy Doyle, we see life in all its complexity. Paddy's ma and da aren't getting along and we see the burden this represents for Paddy and the responsibility he takes on for making things ok for them.
This book has a beginning and an end, lots in-between to keep us engaged, but not much of a "plot" in the traditional sense. In Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, we get to spend a bit of time in Paddy's world and for me that was worth the ride.
I laughed out loud many times, especially at the workings of Paddy's mind, where while going about his school, play and home life, he simultaneously imagined himself as Geronimo, their bikes as horses, himself as George Best the Manchester United super-star, etc. I also got teary at times because, this being Roddy Doyle, we see life in all its complexity. Paddy's ma and da aren't getting along and we see the burden this represents for Paddy and the responsibility he takes on for making things ok for them.
This book has a beginning and an end, lots in-between to keep us engaged, but not much of a "plot" in the traditional sense. In Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, we get to spend a bit of time in Paddy's world and for me that was worth the ride.
December 20, 2011
Rating: An irritable 3* of five
Ugh.
Books written in the voice of a child had best use that technique for a reason...the child's perspective becomes wearing unless there is some very, very compelling narrative reason to make us follow a kid around without wanting to scream blue murder after a while.
I don't find any such compelling reason in this book. I don't find anything compelling at all in this book, as a matter of fact.
Ireland sounds damned good and dreary, and I am rethinking my desire to visit. I hate priests, nuns, and the Catholic Church with a vibrating Day-Glo orange passion. I'm beginning to hate all the fools and cruels who dare to become parents in Ireland, too. All the cheery Irish that exist appear to have moved here and taken up writing about the badness of Irish childhoods.
Blech. I don't want to talk about this book anymore. Read it at your peril. Why did I give it three stars? Because the writing, the descriptions, the sheer visual acuity of it makes anything less a dishonest rating, one based on my growing dislike of the country it's about, not a judgment of the book's merits.
Ugh.
Books written in the voice of a child had best use that technique for a reason...the child's perspective becomes wearing unless there is some very, very compelling narrative reason to make us follow a kid around without wanting to scream blue murder after a while.
I don't find any such compelling reason in this book. I don't find anything compelling at all in this book, as a matter of fact.
Ireland sounds damned good and dreary, and I am rethinking my desire to visit. I hate priests, nuns, and the Catholic Church with a vibrating Day-Glo orange passion. I'm beginning to hate all the fools and cruels who dare to become parents in Ireland, too. All the cheery Irish that exist appear to have moved here and taken up writing about the badness of Irish childhoods.
Blech. I don't want to talk about this book anymore. Read it at your peril. Why did I give it three stars? Because the writing, the descriptions, the sheer visual acuity of it makes anything less a dishonest rating, one based on my growing dislike of the country it's about, not a judgment of the book's merits.
June 2, 2023
Amikor az utolsó trópusi szigetet is belakták a turisták, amikor a sarkvidék utolsó szegletét is feltérképezték, az ember rájött, hogy nincs több felfedezni való. Dehogy nincs, felelték az írók, és arccal egy újabb ismeretlen kontinens felé fordultak: a saját gyermekkoruk felé. Nekiindultak szélcibálta vitorlával, hogy a hiányos emlékezet zátonyai és a fabulálás szirénénekén átvergődve eljussanak a múlt homokos partjaira. Akadtak köztük, akik azt hitték, János pap országába tartanak, a helyre, ahol tejjel s mézzel folyik a Kánaán, azt hitték (vagy csak azt akarták hinni és hitetni), hogy a gyermekkor az Ártatlanság Birodalma, a Paradicsom, ahol a tigris az őzhöz simulva dorombol. Pedig nem. A gyermek csak annyiban ártatlan, hogy nem tanulta még meg definiálni a rossz és a jó közötti különbséget. Kegyetlen tud lenni, ösztönösen kitapogatja a másik legérzékenyebb pontjait, és oda döf - néha csak azért, hogy jelezze, döfni is tud. De legalább tanul. Változik. Ez a mentsége: hogy levetkőzheti a kegyetlenségét.
Doyle töredezett prózája pazarul adja vissza a gyermekkor elemi bizonytalanságát, azt az érzést, hogy érthetetlen erők hajigálnak minket jobbra-balra, mi meg félünk, és mivel félünk, odacsapunk. Keresünk valakit, aki nálunk gyengébb - annak. Aztán van, hogy mi vagyunk a gyengék (hisz gyerekek vagyunk), akkor nekünk csapnak oda. Mást se szeretnénk, csak felnőni, mert a felnőttek nagyok és erősek, ők a pillanat urai.
Ne mondjuk meg a gyerekeknek, hogy ez nincs így. Egy világ dőlne össze bennük.
Ha ha ha.
Doyle töredezett prózája pazarul adja vissza a gyermekkor elemi bizonytalanságát, azt az érzést, hogy érthetetlen erők hajigálnak minket jobbra-balra, mi meg félünk, és mivel félünk, odacsapunk. Keresünk valakit, aki nálunk gyengébb - annak. Aztán van, hogy mi vagyunk a gyengék (hisz gyerekek vagyunk), akkor nekünk csapnak oda. Mást se szeretnénk, csak felnőni, mert a felnőttek nagyok és erősek, ők a pillanat urai.
Ne mondjuk meg a gyerekeknek, hogy ez nincs így. Egy világ dőlne össze bennük.
Ha ha ha.
April 7, 2015
When we were small kids here we behaved the same way – we lit fires, we built huts, our life was playing games and learning through them.
“I wanted to be hard. I wanted to wear plastic sandals, smack them off the ground and dare anyone to look at me.”
We also fought and we dreamt to become hard…
The novel is good and it is a plausible immersion into a kid’s world but at times it seemed to be a little bit too static.
“I wanted to be hard. I wanted to wear plastic sandals, smack them off the ground and dare anyone to look at me.”
We also fought and we dreamt to become hard…
The novel is good and it is a plausible immersion into a kid’s world but at times it seemed to be a little bit too static.
April 22, 2020
I first read this about seven years ago when I was under the impression it was a stand-alone novel. I recently discovered (from the author's Wikipedia page) that it's actually considered to be the fourth book of his Barrytown series. Hmm. I guess it is, in the sense that it takes place in Barrytown, but it's set almost two decades before the first book in the series, so I suppose you could think of it as a prequel, and it features none of the characters from the other Barrytown books, so it's loosely connected at best.
This aside, this is a rather wonderful book. It's told from the point of view of the titular Paddy Clark, a young lad whose parents are in the process of splitting up. In an attempt to capture the way a young boy's mind works, the author has written this in a kind of stream-of-consciousness monologue (picture 'On the Road' if Kerouac had been seven years old and Irish) which mostly works very well, although I can see how it might put people off who are used to a more traditional narrative style.
Having gone through my parents' messy split when I was about the same age as Paddy is in this book, this was a visceral read for me. If anybody whose parents have never split up would like to know what it's like for the young children involved, this book will give you a keen insight. Take it from me; being told you're now 'the man of the house' when you're seven years old fucks you up in a way that has very long lasting after effects. Your mileage may vary, of course.
This aside, this is a rather wonderful book. It's told from the point of view of the titular Paddy Clark, a young lad whose parents are in the process of splitting up. In an attempt to capture the way a young boy's mind works, the author has written this in a kind of stream-of-consciousness monologue (picture 'On the Road' if Kerouac had been seven years old and Irish) which mostly works very well, although I can see how it might put people off who are used to a more traditional narrative style.
Having gone through my parents' messy split when I was about the same age as Paddy is in this book, this was a visceral read for me. If anybody whose parents have never split up would like to know what it's like for the young children involved, this book will give you a keen insight. Take it from me; being told you're now 'the man of the house' when you're seven years old fucks you up in a way that has very long lasting after effects. Your mileage may vary, of course.
August 4, 2019
I really enjoyed this novel and the author really nailed the voice of Patrick our protagonist. I found all of the characters compelling.
But the story lacks a plot beyond the life of a pre-teen boy in Ireland who is endlessly involved in minor mischief. The novel would have benefited from a seismic outside event or perhaps just more drama. This novel reminded me of World’s Fair by Doctorow, not quite that masterful but in the ball park.
4 stars. Solid recommendation, quick read.
But the story lacks a plot beyond the life of a pre-teen boy in Ireland who is endlessly involved in minor mischief. The novel would have benefited from a seismic outside event or perhaps just more drama. This novel reminded me of World’s Fair by Doctorow, not quite that masterful but in the ball park.
4 stars. Solid recommendation, quick read.
September 25, 2023
کتاب از زبان یه پسربچه ایرلندی روایت میشه و تا دوسوم کتاب بدون هیچ قصه خاصی فقط شرح شيطنت های اونا تو کوچه و مدرسه است و تازه تو یک سوم پایانی یه ماجرای خانوادگی شروع به برجسته شدن می کنه. در مجموع با توجه به اینکه برنده جایزه بوکر هم شده ولی کتابی نبود که با نخوندنش چیزی را ازدست داده باشید یا بخواید حتی به دیگران توصیه اش کنید.
September 26, 2010
If anyone can answer my question, I'd love to know the answer. Why is it that books written by Irish authors or told about the Irish seem to consistently focus on a) drinking b) abuse c) poverty d) dysfunction???? Is there joy in Ireland?
While reviews are primarily positive about this book, for many reasons, I simply reacted to the fact that it was yet another angst filled tale of an Irish child witnessing cruelty, and acting out with cruelty, harming those around him, including his younger sibling.
It is 1968 and Paddy is ten years old, his father is drinking heavily, his mother is abused, his brother is a royal pain.
He and his band of friends roam the small town setting fires at building sites, entering forbidden areas while performing various and sundry cruel beatings and taunts to each other.
Written in a hard to follow stream of consciousness style, I had a difficult time absorbing the story line.
Simply stated, I didn't like this book and cannot recommend it.
While reviews are primarily positive about this book, for many reasons, I simply reacted to the fact that it was yet another angst filled tale of an Irish child witnessing cruelty, and acting out with cruelty, harming those around him, including his younger sibling.
It is 1968 and Paddy is ten years old, his father is drinking heavily, his mother is abused, his brother is a royal pain.
He and his band of friends roam the small town setting fires at building sites, entering forbidden areas while performing various and sundry cruel beatings and taunts to each other.
Written in a hard to follow stream of consciousness style, I had a difficult time absorbing the story line.
Simply stated, I didn't like this book and cannot recommend it.
July 15, 2015
Se qualcuno, come me, pensasse che “Paddy Clarke ah ah ah” sia un libro divertente, grazie al quale sorridere e svagarsi dai problemi che ci rincorrono, come volevo fare io leggendolo, si sbaglia. “Paddy Clarke ah ah ah” è un libro molto triste, che rilascia sofferenza, una sofferenza che per noi adulti è la peggiore, quella dei bambini a causa del comportamento degli adulti.
Il libro racconta le avventure di una banda di ragazzini dublinesi negli anni ’60, raccontata in prima persona da Paddy Clarke, primogenito di una famiglia piccolo borghese irlandese cattolica. La particolarità che mi ha immediatamente colpita è stato il fatto che la storia è narrata in prima persona dal piccolo Paddy, ma al tempo passato, come se ricordasse episodi della sua infanzia da adulto; invece il linguaggio usato è quello dei bambini, semplice, immediato, che segue una logica soltanto infantile, per cui i pensieri gli si allacciano l’uno con l’altro senza continuità, prendendo spunto dal ricordo di un nome o di un gioco, così a caso. Pertanto tu che leggi pensi ad un adulto rimasto bambino, che non può essere, non è credibile; oppure ad un Paddy ancora sulla soglia dell’infanzia che ricorda gli anni passati come se fossero un’altra vita, e questo è più credibile.
Il quadro che emerge è quello di un’infanzia giocosa ma non gioiosa, di una banda di bambini in cui è evidente il bullismo di uno sugli altri, la sottomissione del gruppo nei confronti del più forte e manesco, la crudeltà che i bambini hanno verso i deboli o gli estranei al gruppo, che sfocia in giochi e scherzi spesso spietati. In questo quadro Paddy desta tenerezza, per la sua bontà ed anche per la debolezza, per la lucidità infantile con cui si guarda intorno ed osserva i suoi coetanei e gli adulti. Proprio in quest’ultimo punto si trova il cuore del romanzo, nella sofferenza del bambino che guarda i genitori tanto amati farsi la guerra, arrivando dagli urli alle botte, di notte, in salotto, con le porte chiuse e con le grida soffocate, che non sfuggono però all’orecchio del figlio maggiore. Lui guarda e non capisce i comportamenti adulti, sa soltanto che quei due adulti, quel padre un po’ burbero e distratto, sempre preso dal giornale o dalla tv, e quella madre dolcissima ma anche severa nell’educazione, sono gli esseri che lui ama di più al mondo, dai quali subisce i danni più grandi che si possano fare a un bambino.
Come si fa a trovare divertente questo libro?
Il libro racconta le avventure di una banda di ragazzini dublinesi negli anni ’60, raccontata in prima persona da Paddy Clarke, primogenito di una famiglia piccolo borghese irlandese cattolica. La particolarità che mi ha immediatamente colpita è stato il fatto che la storia è narrata in prima persona dal piccolo Paddy, ma al tempo passato, come se ricordasse episodi della sua infanzia da adulto; invece il linguaggio usato è quello dei bambini, semplice, immediato, che segue una logica soltanto infantile, per cui i pensieri gli si allacciano l’uno con l’altro senza continuità, prendendo spunto dal ricordo di un nome o di un gioco, così a caso. Pertanto tu che leggi pensi ad un adulto rimasto bambino, che non può essere, non è credibile; oppure ad un Paddy ancora sulla soglia dell’infanzia che ricorda gli anni passati come se fossero un’altra vita, e questo è più credibile.
Il quadro che emerge è quello di un’infanzia giocosa ma non gioiosa, di una banda di bambini in cui è evidente il bullismo di uno sugli altri, la sottomissione del gruppo nei confronti del più forte e manesco, la crudeltà che i bambini hanno verso i deboli o gli estranei al gruppo, che sfocia in giochi e scherzi spesso spietati. In questo quadro Paddy desta tenerezza, per la sua bontà ed anche per la debolezza, per la lucidità infantile con cui si guarda intorno ed osserva i suoi coetanei e gli adulti. Proprio in quest’ultimo punto si trova il cuore del romanzo, nella sofferenza del bambino che guarda i genitori tanto amati farsi la guerra, arrivando dagli urli alle botte, di notte, in salotto, con le porte chiuse e con le grida soffocate, che non sfuggono però all’orecchio del figlio maggiore. Lui guarda e non capisce i comportamenti adulti, sa soltanto che quei due adulti, quel padre un po’ burbero e distratto, sempre preso dal giornale o dalla tv, e quella madre dolcissima ma anche severa nell’educazione, sono gli esseri che lui ama di più al mondo, dai quali subisce i danni più grandi che si possano fare a un bambino.
Come si fa a trovare divertente questo libro?
January 24, 2021
Очень трогательная, местами до слез смешная, местами так же до слез грустная история детства 10-летнего ирландского мальчишки; без сюжета, практически потоком сознания и откровенно. Очень заметно, что написана книга еще до того, как стало модным эпатировать читателей и давить на эмоции. Жизнь как она есть всегда производит более сильное впечатление.
Обязательно продолжу читать Родди Дойла.
Р.S. лично для меня в десять раз лучше "Популярной музыки из Виттулы".
Обязательно продолжу читать Родди Дойла.
Р.S. лично для меня в десять раз лучше "Популярной музыки из Виттулы".
January 27, 2008
Patrick "Paddy" Clarke is a 10-year-old boy growing up in 1960s Ireland who has good and bad times with his friends, loves and hates his little brother (and has no use for his baby sisters because they don't do anything worthwhile yet), tells lies to his friends and his teachers in order to gain their appreciation and respect, and who wants nothing more than to understand (and fix) the problems that begin to erupt between his parents. As an oldest child he feels it his position to protect his younger brother, Francis (aka 'Sinbad'), and his mother; he believes that if he sits up at night listening to his parents fight he can somehow protect them all.
The story is a touching and heartbreaking coming-of-age tale. Roddy Doyle manages to capture a 10-year-old boy's perspective on life perfectly. Paddy is precocious and shows his smarts as often as possible, thinking if he can just impress his parents they won't fight with each other. The narrative is written in an inner dialogue manner, as an adult looking back with clarity. In retrospect actions are more important than they ever ultimately could be and things, such as a favorite hot water bottle, are more vivid as an adult than anything else.
This is my first Roddy Doyle book and I am excited to read more. I hear the Barrytown Trilogy is good; since this was my first experience with Barrytown I look forward to what other stories take place there and who else has their names written in cement throughout the town along with Paddy and his friends.
The story is a touching and heartbreaking coming-of-age tale. Roddy Doyle manages to capture a 10-year-old boy's perspective on life perfectly. Paddy is precocious and shows his smarts as often as possible, thinking if he can just impress his parents they won't fight with each other. The narrative is written in an inner dialogue manner, as an adult looking back with clarity. In retrospect actions are more important than they ever ultimately could be and things, such as a favorite hot water bottle, are more vivid as an adult than anything else.
This is my first Roddy Doyle book and I am excited to read more. I hear the Barrytown Trilogy is good; since this was my first experience with Barrytown I look forward to what other stories take place there and who else has their names written in cement throughout the town along with Paddy and his friends.
October 13, 2019
Épp tegnap próbáltam összefoglalni két szöveget, de úgy éreztem, mint mindig, amikor egy nagyon jó könyvet olvastam, hogy méltatlan, amit mondok. Hiszen nem csak az a lényeg, amit mond, hanem az is, ahogyan. Ahogyan ennek a tízéves fiúnak ugyanolyan természetes az, hogy bandáznak a többi gyerekkel, hogy étel van az asztalon (bár fagyira csak csalással futja), mint az erőszak. Egyszerű, hiteles gyerekhangon mesél arról, hogy felgyújtják az öccse száját – és minden hasonló alkalommal a nagytesóra néznek a többiek, rendben van-e a kisebb testvér kínzása –, hogy a szadista tanár üti és alázza őket (nincs is hangoskodás, meg sem pisszennek), hogy amikor az apja a derékszíjával veri, akkor neki tulajdonképpen nem futnia kéne előle, hanem belehátrálnia, akkor nem csípne akkorát. A csupán bekezdésekre tagolt szövegben ugrálunk a szituációk közt és kis mértékben az időben is, így az első mondatokban időnként nem lehet tudni, az aktuális he kire vonatkozik. Egyszerű mondatok, semmi fölösleges cizelláltság, egy gyerek szájába nem is illene. Csúfolódások, a tiltott szavak élvezete, brahiból lopás, kegyetlen játékok. Nagyon jól olvasható, őrületesen erős szöveg. Végigkövethetjük, ahogy próbálja megállítani szülei egyre gyakoribb veszekedéseit, ahogy igyekszik megérteni, mi a baj. Szívszorító a gyerekszemszög ebben a helyzetben. És érdekes, hogy bár az erőszak természetes, ha a felnőtt vagy a nagyobb gyerek követi el a kisebbel szemben, a házastársi erőszak egyértelműen töréspont, mindannyiuknál. Ahogy mindezt elmondja. Ahogy az utolsó oldalon derül ki, mire utal a cím. Akkorákat üt, hogy az ember csak pislog, de olvas rendületlenül, hiszen nem is lehetne semmi másképp.
July 1, 2020
It took me much longer than it should have to finish this slight, inconsequential novel. It won the Booker in 1993, but it's a bit of a mystery why that was so. I would have given the prize to Remembering Babylon by David Malouf, a much better and more significant book in every way.
Paddy Clark Ha Ha Ha is written in the voice of Paddy, nine years old in the 1960s, watching The Man From UNCLE on TV and observing his parents' marriage break up. It's impressionistic, with (paraphrasing Jung here, talking about childhood memories) 'little islands of memories floating round in the vagueness of ocean'. These scraps of memory are not quite in sequence though there is a sense of dawning awareness that grows as the novel moves to its conclusion.
There's no plot as such, which is ok, but I'm not sure what its theme is either. In fact I'm not at all sure what Doyle is on about, except to depict the chaotic order of life in small boy gangs and the violence they impose on each other. Paddy is awfully cruel to his little brother, setting his lips alight with lighter fuel and delivering 'dead legs' and 'Chinese burns' as a matter of routine. The gang sets traps to delineate territory in their growing housing estate, and the 'Corporation' children set one of wire, causing one boy to almost lose his foot. All this is presented as the norm. It's rather disquieting.
The opening lines are an allusion to Portrait of a Young Man by James Joyce, but if there are other allusions as well, I failed to find them. If any such invisible allusions are what made it worthy of the Booker, then the judges have made a wrong assumption that readers will recognise it. Much too subtle for me, and I've read Portrait twice.
My overwhelming impression is one of distaste for the depiction of a savage little way of life.
I finished reading this book and journalled it on 6.8.03.
Cross posted at The Complete Booker
Paddy Clark Ha Ha Ha is written in the voice of Paddy, nine years old in the 1960s, watching The Man From UNCLE on TV and observing his parents' marriage break up. It's impressionistic, with (paraphrasing Jung here, talking about childhood memories) 'little islands of memories floating round in the vagueness of ocean'. These scraps of memory are not quite in sequence though there is a sense of dawning awareness that grows as the novel moves to its conclusion.
There's no plot as such, which is ok, but I'm not sure what its theme is either. In fact I'm not at all sure what Doyle is on about, except to depict the chaotic order of life in small boy gangs and the violence they impose on each other. Paddy is awfully cruel to his little brother, setting his lips alight with lighter fuel and delivering 'dead legs' and 'Chinese burns' as a matter of routine. The gang sets traps to delineate territory in their growing housing estate, and the 'Corporation' children set one of wire, causing one boy to almost lose his foot. All this is presented as the norm. It's rather disquieting.
The opening lines are an allusion to Portrait of a Young Man by James Joyce, but if there are other allusions as well, I failed to find them. If any such invisible allusions are what made it worthy of the Booker, then the judges have made a wrong assumption that readers will recognise it. Much too subtle for me, and I've read Portrait twice.
My overwhelming impression is one of distaste for the depiction of a savage little way of life.
I finished reading this book and journalled it on 6.8.03.
Cross posted at The Complete Booker
January 25, 2011
Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, the 1993 Booker Prize Winner, is no Ha Ha Ha story even though there is no lack of Ha Ha Ha moments, as you cannot help but be entertained by the antics of a bunch of 10-year-old boys. Roddy Doyle brilliantly captured the psychology of children and created a credible world of childhood play and dialogue that rang true and real. Paddy and his little brother, Sinbad, spent their school day enduring the tyranny of less than inspiring teachers who could all but “kill” them. The need to belong was palpable as Paddy and his schoolmates bonded in ways that would worry any parent. Doyle described an endless stream of mischievous and aggressive games that were the boys’ daily staple. They hung out at half-completed construction sites setting fires, pouring lighter fluid into Sinbad’s mouth, bursting tar bubbles, stealing nails, giving dead legs, and “pruning”. There were times when all the inventive mischief began to grate on the reader and you could laugh no more. But as is often true of at-risk children, Paddy’s world was falling apart and you feel his pain. His parents’ marriage was breaking up and he had no way of understanding why, though he desperately tried to help maintain equilibrium. Then swiftly followed the end of Paddy’s childhood when the chant that rang out was “Paddy Clarke, Paddy Clarke, has no da, ha, ha, ha!” Doyle’s understatement of grief was mingled with the depiction of uncontrollable zest in being alive at age ten, sweetness, and a fearless belief that one can live forever. Good book.
December 29, 2011
This review was written in the late nineties (just for myself), and it was buried in amongst my things until today, when I uncovered the journal it was written in. I have transcribed it verbatim (although square brackets indicate some additional information for readability) from all those years ago. It is one of my lost reviews.
When I tell others about this novel I talk about Roddy Doyle's voice and how he captures the thought patterns of children so well; I mention certain tales Patrick tells, like the burning of Sinbad's mouth, or the Grand National, but I never mention the connection the novel has with my own life.
Brian [my Dad] never left Chris [my Mom], but my experiences of abuse and my own violent childhood and my need for isolation are all captured in the voice of Paddy. I understand his futile fight with Charlo and his alienating defeat of Kevin. The violence and inner pain have been mine and still make teh occassional appearance. However, the most powerful part of the book his Paddy's confusion concerning his Da. He loves the man, wants to be the man, and fears the man, eventually hating him. I've been there myself. Doyle expresses my experience best.
When I tell others about this novel I talk about Roddy Doyle's voice and how he captures the thought patterns of children so well; I mention certain tales Patrick tells, like the burning of Sinbad's mouth, or the Grand National, but I never mention the connection the novel has with my own life.
Brian [my Dad] never left Chris [my Mom], but my experiences of abuse and my own violent childhood and my need for isolation are all captured in the voice of Paddy. I understand his futile fight with Charlo and his alienating defeat of Kevin. The violence and inner pain have been mine and still make teh occassional appearance. However, the most powerful part of the book his Paddy's confusion concerning his Da. He loves the man, wants to be the man, and fears the man, eventually hating him. I've been there myself. Doyle expresses my experience best.
June 14, 2024
Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha by Roddy Doyle captures the chaotic energy of childhood through the eyes of 10-year-old Paddy Clarke. Doyle pulls readers in the difficult times of 1960s Dublin. The author pulls humor in along with heartache as Paddy learns the meaning of friendship, family, and growing up.
February 11, 2014
I'm very glad I found Roddy Doyle. (Thanx Nick Hornby and Speaking to the Angels.) Cause Paddy Clarke HaHaHa is just like I like a book. It reminds me a lot of Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes, one of my favorite books. One of the books I truly love. They've got more in common than the comic style. They're both about Irish childhoods. Frankie McCourt's in the late 30s and early 40s. Paddy Clarke's in the late 60s. "It is 1968. Paddy Clarke is 10 years old, breathless with discovery." Writes Irish Times.
I love Paddy Clarke. He is so sympathetic. For me that says everything. He just makes me love him. Want to hug him almost. (Expect he wouldn't want me to do it (even if we would exist in the same world). Cause life is so hard. Even for a 10-year-old boy. The boys that play together in the Irish suburbs of the 60s are so hard on each other. But kids are, whether they're boys or girls, whenever and wherever they live. Good I haven't had to endure that. The kids cruelty. Not much at least. You can't get to me, not really. "Paddy Clarke, Paddy Clarke, has no da, ha ha ha!" Paddy Clarke discovering the world. That's what it's about. Everything in the book.
Honestly. Roddy Doyle is brilliant. The book is brilliant. So sympathetic and funny. It really gets to me. Really. To my heart. Paddy. And especially his relationship with his younger brother Sinbad. I love them. This was the kind of book, after which it's hard to start on an other one, cause u know it's not gonna be half as good, won't give u the same feeling.
And I did forget to mention the word cute. That should certainly be mentioned. It's all so cute, and it's about children. Wonderful. [And I know this might sound flat.:]
And I just have to add that this is the kind of book that I think ought to be true, a true story, even thou this isn't. The way the book is told makes it seam so true, like someone’s memories.
I love Paddy Clarke. He is so sympathetic. For me that says everything. He just makes me love him. Want to hug him almost. (Expect he wouldn't want me to do it (even if we would exist in the same world). Cause life is so hard. Even for a 10-year-old boy. The boys that play together in the Irish suburbs of the 60s are so hard on each other. But kids are, whether they're boys or girls, whenever and wherever they live. Good I haven't had to endure that. The kids cruelty. Not much at least. You can't get to me, not really. "Paddy Clarke, Paddy Clarke, has no da, ha ha ha!" Paddy Clarke discovering the world. That's what it's about. Everything in the book.
Honestly. Roddy Doyle is brilliant. The book is brilliant. So sympathetic and funny. It really gets to me. Really. To my heart. Paddy. And especially his relationship with his younger brother Sinbad. I love them. This was the kind of book, after which it's hard to start on an other one, cause u know it's not gonna be half as good, won't give u the same feeling.
And I did forget to mention the word cute. That should certainly be mentioned. It's all so cute, and it's about children. Wonderful. [And I know this might sound flat.:]
And I just have to add that this is the kind of book that I think ought to be true, a true story, even thou this isn't. The way the book is told makes it seam so true, like someone’s memories.
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