Bogmail

by Patrick McGinley

In a comic Irish mystery worthy of Kingsley Amis or Peter Ustinov, Roarty, a pub owner, kills his teenage daughter's lover, drops the body into a bog, and returns to his pub, only to find he is the object of blackmailer's attentions. A very fine read.

Genres: Fiction, Mystery, Ireland, Irish Literature, Crime, Novels, Classics

282 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1978

About the author

Patrick McGinley was born in 1977 in Brussels. He grew up in Munich and studied Film in New York. While working in Germany as a filmmaker, he wrote his first novel ‘Das Bootshaus’. In 2019 he co-wrote the first season of the Mexican smash-hit TV comedy ‘El juego de las llaves’ for Amazon Prime and Pantaya.

He currently lives in Dublin.

(From the author's website)

Reviews

[Kate Kerrigan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Is anyone going to republish the brilliant Patrick McGinley? Before Patrick McCabe - before Kevin Barry - this was the writer who had the whole rural Ireland Gothic thing going on. I remember my parents reading him in the eighties and picked up this at my mothers house recently and re-read it. Brilliant, dark, hilarious stuff. Please somebody - pick him up and put him on Kindle....he's the Godfather of Irish Gothic - he so deserves not to be forgotten.

[🐴 🍖]

flann fanns take heed: this contains an attempted poisoning by omelet; outrageous abuse of the 1911 encyclopedia britannica; a rubber lust finger; an irish priest telling an english catholic to become protestant, bc catholicism in an englishman is unnatural; drunken debates re ornithology; and an attempt to ID a murder victim's foot by way of smell. could it have had more suspense to it? faith, and it could have. would i trade any of the above for more suspense? i would not

[Rob Kitchin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bogmail was original published in 1978 and made into a BBC series titled ‘Murder in Eden’ in 1991. It has been reissued this year, coinciding with a re-run of the series on TG4. On its initial publication by Donegal Democrat review ran thus: ‘a horrific concoction of filth ... a picture of life in Donegal that is revolting in the extreme ... virtually pornography veneered with an assumption of literary value ... a shocking libel on the people of Donegal.’ The definition of filth and pornography in late 1970s Ireland, a country then still firmly under the thumb of the Catholic Church, was clearly anything that might hint at blasphemy and sex as whilst Bogmail reveals the petty power struggles between the Church and its flock and the sexual goings on in an isolated village, it’s hardly filth or pornography in a twenty first century sense. That said, McGinley does not portray the isolated villagers of Glenkeel in a favourable light. Each is self-possessed and flawed by desire, greed or jealousy, seeking something that they can’t obtain, whether that be love, land or belonging. McGinley uses the plot of a murder and blackmail as device to explore these relationships and the stifling social order and expectations in an Irish village. In so doing he produces a very literary form of crime fiction that has the feel of a stage play. The strength of the book is its characterisation, the vivid prose, the sense of place and atmosphere, the intricate dynamics between the handful of characters, and its social commentary on rural Ireland. The plot itself, however, does not really go anywhere, with the actions of the bogmailer largely fading from view, and the resolution is weak, not because it’s ambiguous but rather that it just sort of peters out. Overall, an interesting literary read about foiled and limited ambitions and small village tensions.

[Melissa Joulwan · Rating 3 out of 5]

I disliked this book very much by the end. It started out strong; the opening pages are fantastic, and I loved the premise of a bartender killing his daughter's seducer, then being blackmailed. The tone is blackly humorous, and I was drawn in. But about halfway through, I started losing interest and I skimmed the last 60 pages.

Things that are great: The opening, the descriptions of hanging out in an Irish pub, vivid depictions of the scenery around Donegal.

Things that are not great: Women characters are basically props for the men. Subplots that distract from the main plot to the point that the blackmail scheme seemed like an afterthought by the end. All the dudes had serious women issues.

Re-reading my review, I kind of want to change my star rating to 2, but I'm keeping it at 3 for the gorgeous descriptions of the Irish landscapes.

[Jürgen Zeller · Rating 5 out of 5]

Der versierte Krimileser weiss, dass Moorlandschaften manchmal nach Jahrzehnten verborgene Schätze freigeben oder im makaberen Fall Leichen die bei oder nach einem Verbrechen vergraben und entsorgt wurden. In so manchen Archiven von Verlagen liegen literarische Schätze verborgen und warten darauf, in aufgefrischter Form wieder auf den Markt gebracht zu werden. Dieses Buch ist so ein lesens- und lobenswertes Kleinod, dass im englischen Original bereit 1978 erschienen ist und nun nach fast 40 Jahren endlich ins Deutsche übersetzt und vom Steidl Verlag publiziert wird. Der Verlag spendiert dem Buch schwarze Vorsatzblätter die den Leser optisch auf den schwarzem Humor, der in dieser Geschichte steckt, aufmerksam machen sollen.

Auf den ersten Blick bestätigt die Geschichte die Vorurteile die viele Leser gegenüber der ländlichen irischen Lebensart haben. Nach dem Arbeitstag oder je nach dem auch tagsüber trifft man sich im Pub, genehmigt sich gleich mehrere Whiskeys und spricht mit meist männlichen Gleichgesinnten über kleinere oder grössere Probleme die das Leben bereithält. Themen wie Arbeit, Landwirtschaft, Glauben, Kirche und Frauen. Das letzteres im Zusammenhang mit den sexuellen Anspielungen in diesem Roman im streng gläubigen Irland Ende der 1970er Jahre für Aufsehen sorgte kann ich nachvollziehen aber heute, bei der Masse an billigen Gewaltthrillern die in den Buchhandlungen stehen, ist es eher eine Petitesse. Dass das Ganze nicht in eine Aneinanderreihung von Binsenweisheiten ausufert liegt am intelligenten Konzept und dem kultivierten Erzählstil von Patrick McGinley und der exzellenten Übersetzung von Hans-Christan Oeser.

Inhalt: Der Hauptfigur der Geschichte, Gastwirt Roarty, liegt ein quälendes Problem auf der Seele. Sein neuer Barkeeper Eales kann seine Lustfinger nicht von seiner Tochter Cecily lassen und so reift der Gedanke heran, den Missetäter zu töten. Was giftige Pilze nicht schaffen kann ein Band der Enziklopedia Brittanica. Die Leiche nachts im nahegelegen Moor versenkt und weg sind Störenfried und Problem. Dumm nur, dass Roarty beobachtet wurde und der anonyme Augenzeuge für sein Schweigen Geld sehen will. Schnell verortet Roarty den Erpresser unter seinen schrulligen Stammgästen. Bloss, welcher der zechenden Kunden ist es?

Für einmal geht es nicht darum ein Verbrechen aufzuklären und einen Mörder zu finden, den kennen die Leser bestens, sondern darum wie der Täter mit der Tat und der Erpressung umgeht und selbst zum Detektiv wird. Die ungewöhnliche Ausgangslage bietet Potential für allerhand Situationskomik welche der Autor auch nutzt aber es verkommt nie zur klamaukhaften Komödie. Das wird so einige Leser enttäuschen und darum mein neuerlicher Hinweis: Es handelt sich um einen geistreichen Kriminalroman mit eher langsam voranschreitender Handlung der ohne Actionszenen auskommt. Dafür ist viel Esprit, mit gepflegtem schwarzen Humor unterlegt, und Lokalkolorit enthalten für den geduldigen Leser mit Musse und Zeit. Slàinte mhath!

[Artur Nowrot]

Meditations on the significance of a tight foreskin in the history of art and philosophy, as well as the general dick lit-ness aside, this was a strange, darkly funny look at 1970s rural Irish community. I enjoyed the village politics (including a conflict with the local Catholic priest, because Ireland).

I was fascinated by the shape of the plot. The book starts with a very strong hook, but then becomes much more meandering and the resolution of the black- or bogmail part is almost incidental. Not sure what to think of it, to be honest, as the other plots were fascinating enough in their own right, and yet by modern standards the book definitely lacks in focus and suspense.

[Slagle Rock · Rating 2 out of 5]

Well, we can’t really call this a murder mystery because we know who the murderer is. The riddle of the story is who is it that is blackmailing the killer in this yarn set mostly in a tavern in a rural part of Ireland. The characters are complex with secrets and the dialogue is interesting enough but the revealing blackmailer riddle, when answered at the end of the book, was somewhat disappointing, like so many a mystery novel, because it just didn’t seem to be even hinted at in the text.

[Peggy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bogmail is NOT your traditional mystery! We know right up front who did it, it’s rather about will he get caught. We don’t know the blackmailer is though! Bogmail is also a dark comedy, basically about the deterioration of a man’s psyche after he commits murder. McKinley didn’t portray the people of Glenkeel in a very favorable light and I’m sure if I were Irish I would understand the little nuances better. The Donegal Democrat wrote this on the publication of Bogmail…

‘a horrific concoction of filth … a picture of life in Donegal that is revolting in the extreme … virtually pornography veneered with an assumption of literary value … a shocking libel on the people of Donegal.’

There is some sex in this book, fairly descriptive and failure of male physiology. A straight forward novel with philosophical, theological and psychological weight to it.

Lots of wonderful tension that kept me interested and turning pages. The characterization is wonderful! I loved all the characters and got pulled in right away. Wonderful sense of place with lovely descriptive writing that puts you right there in Ireland, having a pint in the pub to fishing in the bay or hunting snipe. I loved the lyrical writing of Mr. McGinty, here’s a sample, a bit on the long side, but worth the read. Meet Roarty…

‘Roarty was sitting behind the bar, holding the newspaper at arm’s length as he read. Even in his present hunched position he looked impressive. He was tall, broad-backed, bald and bearded with an air of stillness that reminded Potter of early mornings on the mountain. Was it the stillness of self-possession or self-absorption, he wondered without knowing why. When you met him in the street, the first thing you noticed was the width of his shoulders and his bow-legged walk. But when he was behind the bar, you could only see his top half, and then it was the head that impressed. It was a noble head with a grizzled beard from the depth of which emerged a sandblasted, straight-stemmed pipe. Beardless, he would hav been red faced. As it was, the flush of his cheeks showed above the greyness of his beard, contrasting oddly with the pale skin of his bald head. The thickness of his beard concealed his closely placed ears. You could not see them if you looked him full in the face, and this gave his head its unforgettable outline. Pulling a pint of stout, he would eye the rising froth, his head tilted sideways, the cast of his half-hidden lips betraying serious concern. But when the pint was nicely topped, his eyes would light up momentarily as he placed it before the expectant customer. At such moments one felt that because of some pessimistic streak in his nature he did not expect the pint to be perfect and that he was continually surprised by the successful combination of brewer’s technology and his own handiwork. The pint served, he would put out a big hand with wet-kept nails and take your money with an absentmindedness that robbed the transaction of anything approaching the cold-blooded self-interest of commerce.
Looking at him now, Potter became aware of the difference between him and the farmers and fishermen who drank in his pub, hardy, bony men who went out unthinkingly in all weathers. They were men who reminded him of bare uplands, grey rocks and forlorn roads in the mountains. Even in the twilight of the pub they wore their peaked caps down over their eyes, and though they could be seen occasionally squinting from beneath them there was an unflinchingness in their gaze as if they believed that looking could change the object looked at. Their lean faces bore spiders’ webs of deeply etched lines that branched from eye corners or criss-crossed stubbled chins, expressing for Potter a noble stoicism in the grip of life’s adversity. But Roarty did not look like that at all. He was big-boned and fleshy rather than hardy, with the look of a man who had led a comfortable life, who had never experienced sun or wind except from personal choice.

[Christoph H · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tim Roarty, failed priest turned publican in Donegal, Ireland, is a man who has “become an article of furniture in other men’s worlds”, “condemned to mete and dole unappreciated pints unto a savage race”. His great loves are Schumann, the Encyclopedia Brittanica, whiskey and his daughter Cecily. The first two seem relatively harmless. His drinking isn’t doing much for his health but his real problem is his daughter’s taste in men. He is particularly troubled by her infatuation with his sexually adventurous barman, Eamonn Eales, who is the kind of gentleman who sends off coupon advertisements for products like rubber lust fingers.

Tormented by the image of the rubber lust finger, Roarty has no qualms about murdering Eames with an encyclopedia volume and burying him in a bog, whereupon he congratulates himself on committing the perfect murder. His satisfied tranquillity lasts until he starts receiving ransom letters from the self-titled “bogmailer”. This triggers a desperate search among his small crew of regulars for the identity of the bogmailer. In pursuit of this aim Roarty allows himself to be drawn into their love lives, their fishing expeditions, and their peculiar escapades – including a crusade against Vatican II in the form of the local priest stoked by “the Englishman Potter”. All the while, Roarty scrambles to keep ahead of the zealously enthusiastic Sergeant McGing.

Bogmail is an odd chimera of a book. It has the premise of a cozy crime novel and the meandering pacing of a pub yarn, shot through with a careening humour that delivers crude fart jokes one moment and imposingly recondite puns the next (one discussion on the feeding habits of pollock ends with the casual remark that they are “Pellagic, not pelagian”).

Patrick McGinley does many things well in Bogmail, but it would take a reader of distinctly catholic sensibilities to appreciate them all. It is a crude, hyper-literate, earthy, metaphysical and melancholy comedy. It isn’t much of a crime novel, even less of a mystery – the plot is too loose and too meandering to sustain tension and the revelation of the bogmailer’s identity is unsatisfying, abrupt and inconsequential.

Bogmail is a loving portrait of a rough social world. The 2017 Head of Zeus reprint proudly features a quote from a horrified contemporary review on the front cover: “A horrific concoction of filth, a picture of life in Donegal that is revolting in the extreme…A shocking libel.” This makes good promotional copy, but it is complete nonsense. For all its obvious problems the Donegal McGinley describes, peopled with good-natured eccentrics living against a picturesque landscape, sounds like a very appealing place to pull up a chair and put down a Guinness or two.

Just watch out for the encyclopedias.

[Nora · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ein Buch mit tollen Landschaftsbeschreibungen und interessanten Charakteren. Der Anfang ist sehr stark und zieht den Leser in seinen Bann: ein vom Leben zurückgelassener Barkeeper ermordet den Hallodri von Liebhaber seiner Tochter und wird daraufhin erpresst in einem Dorf, wo jeder jeden kennt. Jedoch schafft der Autor es nicht ganz die Spannung aufrecht zu halten. Auch die Erzählperspektive erscheint mehr als willkürlich ab der Hälfte des Buches. Das Ende hat mich eher unbefriedigt als nachdenklich zurückgelassen, was ich nie besonders schätze bei Krimis.

[Fleur · Rating 3 out of 5]

A Goodreads reviewer said "McGinley uses the plot of a murder and blackmail as a device to explore these relationships and the stifling social order and expectations in an Irish village" does the book work?
On the plus side, the characterization is fascinating.
On the neutral side, the lives and environment descriptions is dated and doesn't relate much to the 21st century
On the minus side, the ending is extremely disappointing

[Josh]

I loved this book. A great, pulpy mystery novel with lots of memorable characters and extraordinary wit and insight. Just one more example among many that blends the distinction between pulp and "literature".

"The most memorable hurts were always administered by women. If only men were masochists, what a feast life would be."

This book is more a character study about rural Irish social life and the role of the Church than it is about the mystery plot, but the characters are so distinct and likeable that their funny, and often surprisingly deep, dialogue drives the book forward. At one point, the Irish priest tells a British Jesuit that a true Brit is a Protestant rather than a Catholic.

There's just such a dry, ironic humor at the heart of each character and every bit of dialogue that I can't help but like this book, despite the fact that I do wish the mystery played a little bit more of a role in the plot.

[hajduk · Rating 3 out of 5]

Was brought here by the Donegal Democrats endorsement;

"a horrific concoction of filth ... a picture of life in Donegal that is revolting in the extreme ... virtually pornography veneered with an assumption of literary value ... a shocking libel on the people of Donegal."

Very witty writing throughout but the plot loses all steam two thirds of the way through.

[Gail Kennon · Rating 2 out of 5]

well written but i did not engage with the characters, mostly men, except for nora hession and we don't see much of her. the end to the "mystery" was a big nothing for me. i guess because the prose was good i expected more weight to the story.

[Stephanie Curran · Rating 5 out of 5]

I haven’t even finished the book but I’m happy to give it a 5 star review, it’s managed to make me laugh out loud when I’m totally miserable, in lockdown, separated from my beloved for so long. Great characters (although perhaps one needs to have visited or know rural /small town to Ireland to appreciate the accuracy thereof 😏
Nice black humour

[James S. · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very good writing, but unfortunately I found the book too whimsical and meandering for my taste. There were whole stretches where I found my attention drifting to other matters. McGinley can write excellent prose, but based on this novel, he needed to work on his pacing.

[Stuart Haining · Rating 3 out of 5]

5/10 9%. Supposedly a forgotten Irish classic but not really to my liking - as a murder mystery the ending was unsatisfactory and if black humour and a bit of Irish history is your fancy, not a patch on Puckoon by Spike Milligan I think?

[Anne · Rating 3 out of 5]

A disappointment

[Rory O'Loughlin · Rating 4 out of 5]

A delight.

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting read.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

6/10

[Estott · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is considered a classic, but it just wasn't for me. I suppose you have to be familiar with the setting or something.

[Evelyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

very original-- poetic language-- equal parts hilarious and disturbing

[Kieran Ryan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant. I loved it. Full of quotable passages.

[Karen · Rating 2 out of 5]

I liked the first half but was somewhat bored by the second half.

[WortGestalt · Rating 3 out of 5]

Einerseits ein wirklich fein- bis schwarzhumoriger Kriminalroman, der mich mit seinem fast schon poetischen Stil erfreut hat, andererseits bin ich zur Zeit ein sehr ungeduldiger Leser und habe nicht die Muße, einer Geschichte beim Reifen zuzusehen. Das muss man hier aber, das Tempo ist bestenfalls als behäbig zu bezeichnen, es gibt viel Palaver, dessen Unterhaltungswert ich zwar nicht abstreiten aber auch nicht bejubeln will. Und auch wenn dieser Roman bei seinem Erscheinen 1978 als pornografisch und üble Beleidigung der Landbevölkerung bezeichnet wurde und einen Sturm der Empörung verursachte (so sagt die Kurzbiografie des Autors im Buch), zählt "Bogmail" heute zu den Klassikern der irischen Kriminalliteratur. Und ja, eine Persiflage auf den englischen Landkrimi kann man darin durchaus erkennen und der Humor hat viel für sich, dennoch ist er trotz seiner Versuche, verbal zu kokettieren aus heutiger Sicht erstaunlich gediegen. Man verroht eben doch. ;)

[Nicola Walsh · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book contains:
- 2 pages elucidating motive for a murder
- 4 pages describing the murder and cover up
- at least 10 pages bringing us through the protagonist's struggle with erectile dysfunction

Less l*mpdick, more severed foots please 🙏
Plenty of wimmen type characters to act as pathetic foils for the Ruggedness of Man

[Frank · Rating 4 out of 5]

"So much that happened between these two ranges of hills was a mystery, he thought....There was mystery and melancholy but also spiritual peace."

So ruminates Kenneth Potter, an Englishman sent to northwest Ireland to determine if there is enough promise of profit to warrant a new mining operation near the author's native Glencolmcille. Having read this novel while staying in a 1920s cottage in the same town, I can attest to the spiritual peace of the place even as I enjoyed the mystery and melancholy in this novel.

In defense of his daughter who he thinks is attracted to the wrong man, a pub owner kills the unfit suitor. Thinking he has pulled off the perfect murder the aging barkeep gets a note asking for a monthly check in what the anonymous blackmailer calls "bogmail."

I enjoyed McGinley's story of suspense for the philosophical bent and clever writing. The novel's killer says, "Life was so unfair. You were born with a wound, and all you could do was to devise makeshift strategies for living with it." Unfortunately, his strategies could prove nihilistic if he can't change course as this novel drives to a conclusion that only pulls the threads together in the closing paragraphs.

[Victoria · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this book while in an internet-disconnected cottage in in Glencolmcille, County Donegal, home to Patrick McGinley. And, as the book takes place in this very village, it made it even more enticing to read.

There are some slow parts--it's very philosophical--but I didn't think it detracted from the county I in which I was vacationing; it just made it seem more interesting. It made me realize that people are people every where. It was both sad and tragic and full of hope. I really liked it.

And by the way, if you have a chance to visit Glemcolmcille, it is DEFINITELY worth it. Lovely people, lovely village, exquisite landscape and divinely peaceful.

[Karin A. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Patrick McGinley has a fine command of the language. Great development of characters. Set in Donegal, Roarty, the local barman kills his daughter's lover. He hides the body in the bog and is content that he committed the perfect crime, until he receives blackmail letters. Roarty commits a string of crimes to throw the murder investigation off. Meanwhile, he's struggling to make a plan to kill who he thinks the blackmailer might be. This is a well written mystery. I didn't want to put it down.