[Nothing Happens in Carmincross] [By: Kiely, Benedict] [March, 2007]

by Benedict Kiely

Signed by the Author, some rubbing wear to covers,

Paperback

First published September 19, 1985

Reviews

[Leif Quinlan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tough one to talk about. On the one hand, Kiely was just one more in the sparkling tradition of Irish writers - luminescent, complicated prose that bounced around, just out of your grasp while leaving enough of a trail to always find your way. On the other hand, I couldn't keep up with the storytelling in quite the same way. Kiely left me feeling as if he were recounting an event or story which he believed I had been witness to and thus, leaving out all of the "boring" load-bearing details. During the extended middle section of "Nothing Happens in Carmincross," I was thrown in then pulled out of half stories about people whom only mattered in so far as they were representative of something else that may or may not be related later. I was often left groping about among names, wondering if they were real or imagined and if their stories were important or important only insofar as they informed Mervyn's or Deborah's character. The opening and closing sections were more linear and easier to be engaged with, but the damage done by the second section served to make me wonder what I'd missed when the big events of the conclusion finally occurred - wait, was this retribution for something done in Mervyn's past? Was he IRA, or wait... was he RUC? No, no, he couldn't have been but, wait... Am I supposed to understand why the bombs were set off where they were or was the rest of the story supposed to make me understand the randomness and the senselessness of these acts. Is it instead, the opposite of that? Did I just completely miss something big that served as a through-line for all of the events? Was it Deborah's ex husband (husband?) who did this? Did I completely whiff on his character? Writing was outstanding but the book on the whole was too disjointed to work

[Steven · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really challenging book to read, but wow Kiely was a talented writer. Lyrical, rhythmic, and meandering descriptions of 1970s Ireland with a challenge to the reader to think of violence in Ireland in a comparative sense - a prelude to the globalization of consuming and selling violence non-stop through mass media.

[Corey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another word-drunk Irishman, God bless him. The story concerns a man returning home to Ireland for a wedding, but it becomes a journey through the past, and a catalog of history's woes, including many cases from 'the troubles.' This one particularly struck my fancy, since it's about my hometown and is an incident I remember well.
“Then over there in Memphis, Tenn., a soul singer who sold twenty millions discs in four years sat happy in his bath when a lady slapped him in the back with a panful of soul food: sizzling hot grits, which in the morning in Memphis you maun eat whether you like them or not. Alas, poor soul, having slapped the soul singer with a panful of the food his soul desired, as the hart panteth after water, grit burns on arms, back, and belly, she wrote a note and shot herself, singing her sad swan song: The more I trust you the more you let me down. You don’t know how deep my love is for you, and you turned your back on me without knowing the facts.
Grits. To the sweet, farewell, Hot hominy grits.”

[Dave · Rating 2 out of 5]

Wow. This one took forever to get through. It's a maddening book, perhaps reflecting the complexity and insanity of the Troubles, but it was difficult to follow, and damned depressing. There are moments of beauty and humor, but they are sprinkled within the darkness of the rest of the tale. Kiely is best known for his short stories, and I can see his style (assuming this is representative) working well there. I'll definitely sample a volume, but I'm amazed I managed to finish this one.

[Ronan Palmer · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a hard read. Not because of the way it was written - far from it - beautiful prose, almost poetry, and all the time I could hear Benedict Kiely's voice, the way it sounded on Sunday Miscellany when I was a kid.
No, hard because of the subject matter, of the nothing that happens, and the build up like a thriller, that peppers the whole book.