Hold Your Hour and Have Another

by Brendan Behan

Hold Your Hour and Have Another

Genres: Fiction, Ireland

191 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1963

About the author

Early association with the Irish republican army and experiences in prison influenced works, including The Quare Fellow , the play of 1954, and the autobiographical Borstal Boy in 1958 of Brendan Francis Behan, writer.

Brendan Francis Behan composed poetry, short stories, and novels in English. He also volunteered.

A mother in the inner city of Dublin bore Brendan Francis Behan into an educated class family. Christine English, his grandmother, owned a number of properties in the area and the house on Russell street near Mountjoy square. Peadar Kearney, his uncle and author of song and the national anthem, also lived in the area. Stephen Behan, his father, acted in the war of independence, painted houses, and read classic literature to the children at bedtime from such sources as Émile Zola, John Galsworthy, and Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant; Kathleen Behan, his mother, took them on literary tours of the city. From father, interest of Behan in literature came; his mother originated his political ideas. She politically acted in all her life and personally befriended Michael Collins. Brendan Behan lamented "The Laughing Boy" at the age of thirteen to Collins. His mother gave the affectionate nickname, the title, to Collins. Kathleen published "Mother of all the Behans," a collaboration with Brian Behan, another son, in 1984.

Peadar Kearney, uncle of Brendan Francis Behan, composed Amhrán na bhFiann , the national anthem. People best knew "The Patriot Game," the song of Dominic Behan, his also renowned brother; Brian Behan, another sibling, a prominent radical political activist, spoke in public, acted, and authored. Brendan and Brian shared not the same views, especially when the question of politics or nationalism arose. Brendan on his deathbed presumably in jest asked Cathal Goulding, then the chief of staff, to "have that bastard Brian shot—we've had all sorts in our family, but never a traitor!"

From a drinking session, Brendan Francis Behan at the age of eight years in 1931 returned home on one day with his granny and a crony, Ulick O'Connor recounts. A passerby remarked, "Oh, my! Isn't it terrible ma'am to see such a beautiful child deformed?" "How dare you", said his granny. "He's not deformed, he's just drunk!"

Brendan Francis Behan left school at 13 years of age to follow in footsteps of his father as a house painter.

Reviews

[Caroline · Rating 2 out of 5]

You can't know how it hurts me to say this. This is not worth the time to read it. It's a collection of uninspiring and surprisingly unfunny essays. It's a lot of language nuance, private jokes... rough goin even if you love Behan.

24/52/09

[Nicola Pierce · Rating 4 out of 5]

A selection of Behan's short pieces for the Irish Press - he was such a natural at dialogue and this particular dialogue is a rarity these days. I particularly enjoyed looking back over 1950s Dublin, its trials and tribulations. I smiled a lot as I read and laughed out loud more than once. And I absolutely loved his wife Beatrice's illustrations, they added to the fun.

[Mike · Rating 5 out of 5]

Short newspaper works and essays and character sketches by Brendan Behan. Quite a wonderful read, particularly when he tucks into odd corners of Dublin. Well worth the time for a Behan fan, and a hard book to find.

[Aaron Badgley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wonderful collection of his very short works.

[Linda Chrisman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Love the stories, like sitting at Russels of Ranleigh's and hearing Frank tell stories!

[Jon]

Fun and funny collection of Behan's newspaper columns with footnotes (fortunately) explaining the more esoteric references and translating the Irish phrases Behan threw in. (The people in this book use "nor" for "than", like the swamp animals in Walt Kelly's POGO.)Sometimes silly, sometimes poignant, it's some of the most appealing Behan I've read. At one point Behan attacks the myth of the Irish brawler; sadly, he ended up living up to that image, dying of drink only a decade or so after these columns appeared in the 1950s. I especially liked the anecdote about an incompetent bookstore employee: "Do you know Joyce is useless? How should I know if he is?" ("She" seems a more logical mistake but never mind.) I also liked his description of London as the world's second-largest suburb (after Los Angeles). Behan may be a minor writer, but this book is a minor gem.