The Devil I Know

by Claire Kilroy

In The Devil I Know , award-winning writer Claire Kilroy delivers a delicious novel, a cautionary tale of financial excess set during the Irish property bubble.

Tristram St. Lawrence has not been home for years—ever since he missed his mother’s deathbed in favor of going on a bender, the thirteenth Earl of Howth is not welcome in the family castle. Now sober, he lives in self-imposed exile, and his main confidant is his sponsor, a mysterious businessman known only as M. Deauville.

One day, when his plane is unexpectedly diverted to Dublin, Tristram ends up where he started, and an old acquaintance, a bully from his school days who’s now making a name in construction, pitches to Tristram an ambitious development project. The trouble is, M. Deauville thinks it’s a good idea, and before Tristram knows it he’s settled in Howth under his father’s baleful gaze and is up to his neck in funding proposals, zoning approvals, and the personal life of his business partner.

A wry and timely skewering of a country, a man, and an entire international financial system descended into madness, The Devil I Know establishes Claire Kilroy as a vigorous and wonderful new talent.

Genres: Fiction, Ireland, Irish Literature, Literary Fiction, Thriller, Fantasy, Adult Fiction

272 pages, Paperback

First published August 1, 2012

About the author

Claire Kilroy is the author of five novels including Soldier Sailor, All Summer, Tenderwire, and The Devil I Know. She was awarded the Rooney Prize in 2004 and has been shortlisted for many other prizes, including the Irish Novel of the Year and the Kerry Group Irish Fiction Award. She studied at Trinity College and lives in Dublin.

Reviews

[GTF · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellently depicts the reckless behaviour of some entrepreneurs and business owners during the Celtic Tiger. 'The Devil I Know' follows the story of an introverted, troubled young man called Tristram St. Lawrence, as he revisits his hometown, and is lead astray by a heedless old school friend of his. For Tristram, this rare visit home escalates into a string of new business ventures, but it all comes to an abrupt end by the economic collapse that was looming in the midst of all the madness.

Told through Kilroy's beautiful and dreamlike prose, the novel explores greed, selfishness and competitiveness in men, while also addressing the more fraught sides of the male psyche too, such as sorrow and loneliness. While there is a clear moral to the story, the novel also maintains stark ambiguity, in particular with the character of Tristram's confidant, M. Deauville.

"The Devil I Know" is a worthy read.

[Stuart]

Americans have many wonderful traits. Optimism. Pragmatism. They don’t look back with regret. But one thing Americans can’t do is tell jokes. Oh no, you say, that isn’t right. Look at American comedians. I have. Jews. The Irish. Blacks. All people who America welcomed or forced to come and in exchange gave America a reason to laugh. Puritans didn’t tell jokes, it seems. They must have been a serious lot.

But look at American sitcoms, you say. They’re shown all over the world, you say. I have. These, too, are saturated with Jewish, Irish and Black humor. You need hopelessness and despair to write good comedy. Americans don’t feel hopeless and don’t despair by nature. When they do, they don’t tell jokes about it, either. I don’t know why.

This means that Americans shy away from comic novels. The ones that get written are, not surprisingly, saturated with Jewish, Irish and Black humor. When they are published, they tend to get panned by critics who hate, for some unknown reason, the idea of a meaningful comic novel. Look at James Wood at the New Yorker, for example. If a novel is funny, he hates it reflexively (and that man must be one mean-ass sourpuss). Publishers know this and shy away from publishing comic novels (by miracle, a publisher bought mine and I pray to god that James Wood never hears about it).

The above is a meandering (I know) and long entry into what I should be doing, reviewing The Devil I Know. It’s an Irish novel and the Irish have no shame when it comes to comedy and satire. They’re great at it, in fact, and The Devil I Know is a laugh out loud satire about the Irish real estate bubble of 2008. Tristram St. Lawrence, the 13th Earl of Howth, teams with an Irish lout/contractor and a mysterious foreign investor to buy and build on Irish wasteland in a nearly successful effort to become an overnight billionaire. But when the money vanishes due to the overnight collapse of Wall Street, so do the billionaire dreams. The financial Celtic Tiger was, in the end, a tragic myth.

How best to treat that tragedy? With comedy of course! I note that I haven’t seen an American comic novel about the Wall Street collapse of 2008 or the Great Recession. We, unlike the Irish, focus on indignation and when we don’t do that, look straight ahead to the future.

In The Devil I Know, Claire Kilroy examines the 2008 economic collapse of Ireland through the Homeric-style “testimony” of Tristram St. Lawrence. Lawrence, with a keen eye for ironic detail, is a grand narrator for this farce. The novel loses its moorings at about the two-thirds mark, but by then you’ll likely have laughed so much that it won’t matter. You’ll have already received your money’s worth and then some. The Devil I Know is a very fun read.

[Evie · Rating 5 out of 5]

A satirical tale of gothic proportions about modern Ireland and the price for selling one's soul. Such a timely read, considering that Ireland seems to be entering Celtic Tiger 2.0 and property porn is once again an acceptable collective obsession. This book is a masterclass in storytelling and characterisation. Kilroy's descriptive prose are so beautifully written that I already want to re-read it. Unlike a lot of other novels that deal with the aftermath of the crash in Ireland and the regular working class citizens who ended up paying for it, this story centres around a clueless developer and the prodigal son of the Earl of Howth who get swept up in the casino-like property gamble that swept the nation. It's new money meets old money in this cautionary tale of greed and addiction, told through Tristram St. Lawrence's evidence at the sham of a tribunal. I don't think this book really got the plaudits it deserved when it was first released - perhaps it was still too soon after the crash and the country still too deep in austerity to fully appreciate such a diabolical retelling. It goes without saying, I would HIGHLY recommend this book, with it's dark Irish wit and supernatural undertones - superb.

[Barbara · Rating 4 out of 5]

This novel is a departure for Claire Kilroy. The topic is economic misdeeds and the Celtic Tiger (which is never named). Tristam St. Lawrence is the Earl of Howth, and a wayward, wandering alcoholic. He returns home sober and falls in with a school "friend" and property developer. It is set in 2016, after the collapse, and St. Lawrence is the object of a tribunal. The novel is a satire, but totally pulls you into the insanity of the mad development that was going on in Dublin during the height of the boom. This book is the third I've read dealing with the property boom and subsequent crash. Clearly Donal Ryan's is the best, and Tana French's is the absolute worst. Kilroy's novel occupies an honorable second place on my reading list.

[MisterHobgoblin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ireland is a land of tradition and folklore. On the one hand, it is the land of the Sidhe, the fairies who wreak evil mischief on people. On the other, it is a nation that strove for independence, and since 1916 has striven for prosperity against all the odds. And in the late 1990s and early 2000s, it really looked as though Ireland had found the magic formula for wealth. Based on very low rates of corporation tax, the Government encouraged huge inward investment, particularly in the IT and pharmaceutical sectors. This investment created income, which was poured into a property boom which appeared to generate instant rewards as investors bought off plan and flipped their properties on completion for instant profit. The more properties you bought, the more profit you made... until the Celtic Tiger lots its roar.

The Devil I Know is a wonderful story of just how the crash happened. The reader is given a spectator's seat for ten days of an Inquiry, coinciding with the centenary of the 1916 Easter Rising, unpicking events that seem to have brought Ireland to its knees. In the witness box we find Tristram St Lawrence, Earl of Howth, a character borrowed from Finnegan's Wake explaining how he came to return to Ireland, quite by accident, and set up in partnership with a shady builder by the name of Dessie Hickey on some of the most ambitious property speculation in an Ireland on the move.

Tristram, it becomes clear, was just caught up in it by accident. He was only following orders from his personal mentor, M. Deauville. He hadn't wanted to get involved, but doesn't deny that he welcomed the payoffs as he tried to save the family castle from its slow crumble back into Howth Bay. Looking back, he is almost surprised at himself, as though watching someone completely different participating in the deals, bribing ministers, sweet-talking bankers. The developments become ever bigger, from a marina development in Howth (almost Malahide), through to speculation in London, Shanghai, and running up to the creation of whole new suburbs in north County Dublin bogland. The voracious appetite is there to be seen. The poor taste spoils of victory - ranch style bungalows, luxury pick up trucks with cream leather upholstery, perma-tanned Eastern European wives are so accurate.

There was a real belief in Ireland at the time that anything was possible; that Ireland had finally claimed its right, in the words of General Collins, to a place at the table of nations. It was as though there had been some magic catalyst that had unlocked the potential for unlimited wealth and Ireland was going to blaze the trail that others would follow. But it was all built on debt. In The Devil I Know, Tristram becomes increasingly uneasy at the debt fuelled growth whilst Dessie just wants to make hay whilst the sun shines. And the contrast between the two men works well. Tristram is educated, suave, sober. He has sophisticated tastes and exquisite manners. Dessie, however, is uneducated, unsophisticated, drunken and vulgar. But both have been thrown together by unseen forces.

As things unravel, the tone becomes increasingly bacchanalian and surreal. We start to see the revenge of the Sidhe as it becomes clear that man has over-reached his ambitions. We see that residences with no residents are quite worthless; just a rearrangement of stones; just swirls on the surface. Ireland is its history, not its assets.

The style of narration is that of question and response - similar to that used by Joyce in part of Ulysses. This creates a sense of immediacy and direction. The interrogator, Fergus, works as counsel for the Inquiry but also works well as a proxy for the reader. And the juxtaposition of very short questions and mostly expansive answers creates a sense of gameplay between the reader and the narrator in a very effective way. We follow the story as it unfolds in a conventional time sequence, but keep being brought back to the present day (future, actually) and the consequences of what we are seeing. And the occasional use of very short responses adds to the dramatic effect. Tristram seems to strive for accuracy and honesty in his responses; he is at pains not to be hiding things. Yet there is a constant feeling of subtexts and undercurrents. It is tense and atmospheric. Moreover, for a story whose ending we know from our news reports, there is a genuine suspense for how the characters will respond to that ending.

It is also worth commenting on the presentation. The Devil I Know is a beautiful book - a whimsical cover, a nursery rhyme on the back, and laid out in an extravagant style with plenty of white space. It is a joy to hold.

Claire Kilroy is one of the most interesting writers in Ireland right now. This is an accomplished work that operates on many levels; drips with history, style and reference; yet is accessible and immediate. It is also historically important. As the people of Ireland pay the debts for the rest of their lives, this Faustian tale will tell them how it came to pass.

[Isabella Pye · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 ⭐️quite different to most things I’ve read for uni (easier lol) the story was really interesting just not sure it made it to four stars:( (probably bc I was rushing to do my other readings)

[Tracy Gaughan · Rating 5 out of 5]

S.T. Coleridge said that 'a great mind is androgynous' - Claire Kilroy has a great mind. She writes without bias. Her characters boil your blood and drain it at the same time - Larney the riddler; rapacious Ray; the overlooked women who are themselves the puppet masters; the landowners and property developers; the lawyers; the 'bills' and 'mills' - Kilroy's prose sings with the absurdity of them all. This is a novel about reckless, megalomaniacal men and the property 'doom' that crippled Ireland; that excavated every square inch of our hapless country forcing us to live within its ruins. It's compulsive reading; smart, savage and witty. But what struck me most was Kilroy's ability to inhabit the mind of an alcoholic and capture, so truthfully, so vividly, the reality of addiction, the shakiness of recovery and the unpredictability of relapse. When Tristram comes face to face with a pint, he says: 'This was what I was. A cubic pint of deepest black. I was holding my soul, distilled into liquid and aching to be reunited with my body, howling to be poured back in.' This is insightful writing at its best. I love everything about it.
It's interesting reading this novel now in 2017. Notwithstanding our volatile recovery, the wolves are quietly combing their pelts and the jade-green-glass-eyed players are blowing on their dice, readying themselves for the soul-trading game that most of us will only get the hang of when it's over. This novel reminds me what I love most about Irish fiction: the women who populate it. Kilroy, Enright, Binchy, Boyce, Keegan, Gaughan, O'Donoghue et al. The women who put flesh on the bones of Shakespeare's sister and give the rest of us a literary tradition to be proud of, one we can relate to. Recommended.

[Rob Kitchin · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Devil I Know is a Faustian, allegorical and satirical tale of the boom and bust in Ireland told through the eyes of Tristram St Lawrence and his tragic foray into property development in the dying days of the Celtic Tiger. Setting the book in the two weeks leading up to the centenary of the 1916 uprising, the catalyst for independence, and using the narrative form of a testimony at an inquiry were inspired choices, setting the excesses of the Celtic Tiger and the loss economic sovereignty against the quest for self-determination, and framing the tale so it speaks directly to the reader. Kilroy’s prose is light, expressive and witty, and she keeps the story moving at fair clip. The plot captures the characters (the deluded, naive investor; the jack-the-lad builder/property developer; the social climbing wife, the crooked politician; the greedy corporate financiers; and the faceless European backers), scams, sentiments, rhetoric, politics and naivety of the boom and the disbelief and unworldliness of the crash. The only bits that seemed to jar a little were the ending, where the story switches to a slightly different, more fantastical register, the lack of any ordinary folk and their role in the property frenzy beyond one scene where they clamour to put down deposits on shoe-box apartments, and the Anglo-Irish background of Tristram, who is portrayed as something of an innocent and deluded dupe, swept along by the party; the Anglo-Irish gentry are not traditionally played in this victim role, although the inversion is interesting in and of itself. Overall, an entertaining and enjoyable tale of modern Ireland’s rise and fall.

[Mandy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This darkly funny, intelligent and sometimes surreal novel about the financial excesses of the Irish boom years is a joy to read. The madness that seemed to overtake Ireland at the time of the Celtic Tiger and the subsequent collapse, the depiction of the extremes of greed, foolishness, corruption and fantasy that ensued as the financial system spiralled out of control, is here exuberantly and wittily conveyed by Claire Kilroy. The story is related by Tristram St Lawrence – a most unreliable narrator indeed – who returns to Ireland and joins forces, most unwillingly, with an old acquaintance from primary school, Desmond Hickey, an uncouth property developer. Once an alcoholic, and now guided by a sponsor from AA, the mysterious and somewhat sinister M Deauville who gives advice and instructions to him over the phone, Tristram is caught up in a web of implausible financial transactions that he can neither understand nor fight against.
The framework in which this disturbing tale is told is a public enquiry taking place in 2016 – the centenary of the 1916 Easter Rising – in which Tristram is questioned about the crash of 2006 and his involvement in it.
This is a quirky and sometimes Gothic novel with an intriguing mix of the real and unreal, and is a wonderful evocation of the collective insanity that Ireland and so many other countries allowed to obliterate common sense and financial responsibility. A cautionary tale and an extremely entertaining novel.

[Vivian Valvano · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tristram St. Lawrence, 13th Earl of Howth, delivers a long testimony in March 2016 that recounts his experiences between 2006-2008. During that earlier period, he had returned home to Ireland after a self-imposed exile. (Tristram's personal history with his aristocratic family had been troubled and complicated. While he was away from Ireland, many people had believed him to be dead.) And during that earlier period, Tristram was an alcoholic desperately trying to maintain sobriety with the aid of a mysterious AA sponsor, Mssr. Deauville, with whom he communicated only by telephone. And during that earlier period, as no one who has not been unconscious for the past several years should know, Tristram found Ireland in the midst of the Celtic Tiger. The testimony concerns Tristram's strange participation (was it entrapment? was it volitional?) in breathtakingly huge property development deals. He became the partner of an old friend, Dessie, a builder (who doesn't know much about what he's doing except when he's cheating or grifting). Tristram ound up as the representative of Mssr. Deauville, for whom he signed seemingly countless purchases, contracts, money transfers, loans, purchases using money that has been borrowed. . . Surprise! Enter the financial debacle of 2008, and everything came tumbling down.
Unfortunately, as the testimony nears its end, Kilroy's book comes tumbling down, too. I don't think she was able to manage the sub-structure of the novel, i.e., Tristram's addled mind and psyche, the product of his years of alcoholism (somewhat complicated by Dessie's belief in the devil). The novel's last sections suffer from this falling off.

[Acid Free Pulp · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kinship to Tristram Shandy is hard to avoid in Claire Kilroy’s The Devil I Know, a deliberate satire of the Irish housing boom from not so long ago. In both real life and the world of the novel, financial bloat and lack of responsibility lead to devastating ruin. However, the novel itself is more concerned with the lead up. It’s conceit is that it is told in the year 2016 during a mysterious deposition of Tristram St. Lawrence, a recovering alcoholic and broken noble who most assumed dead for one reason or another and the lynchpin to some airy real estate scheme in his hometown.

Much like Sterne’s eponymous character, St. Lawrence is unable to easily explain his situation and instead tells a convoluted tale about his business dealings with a childhood friend, Desmond Hickey, and the mysterious Monsieur Deauville, whose identity becomes quite obvious as the narrative goes forward and onto its final pages.

St. Lawrence begins his story with his airplane being diverted to Dublin and, much to his dismay, he is now stuck in Ireland. He hasn’t returned to his home for years, even missing his own mother’s funeral, letting his ancestral home and his elderly father fall apart. A recovering alcoholic, it’s Kismet when he meets up with an old school peer in a bar and what proceeds is an ever-growing scheme to build, build, build.

The Devil I Know does that wonderful thing where it has the ability of leaving the reader in a narrative purgatory (pardon the pun). You’re never quite sure what’s happening to Tristram St. Lawrence...Entire Review http://acidfreepulp.com/2014/04/03/th...

[Manali · Rating 2 out of 5]

Started out promisingly. The mysterious preface was intriguing. I was excited about the Devil and the possibly sinful or murderous deeds he might manipulate the protagonist into doing.

Nothing of which happened.

I honestly believe a Devil might be more interested in just a real-estate fraud. I mean, you have a struggling alcoholic, a bunch of side-characters with questionable morals and a number of dark situations right on your hand. But instead of exploring those, the so-called devil helps a room full of people in taking loans and leaving them with debts? Or maybe the book didn't reach me properly, what do I know? All I know is that it was not for me.

One thing is for certain, I wouldn't recommend this book if you are looking for an exciting Devil, a proactive protagonist or even a satisfactory ending.

What I did find interesting was the format. The interrogating style in which the story unveils was absolutely well done. Each of Tristram's (the protagonist's) parts, which were really well written, might I add, retain the guarded yet the vulnerable tone of someone being questioned at length. The little bursts of his insights or dark humour were what kept me going.

But mostly I only finished because I am the sort that won't give up on books easily. So, in conclusion, good writing, bad plot, didn't love it. Won't recommend it.

[Priyal Shah · Rating 4 out of 5]

i really liked this book at the beginning because of its intrigue, especially in the character of tristram. i wasn’t really interested in the property development parts but that was necessary for the story being told. i was more interested in tristram’s declining mental state.

then there were parts in the middle where i thought the book was waaaay too on the nose. like have some subtlety? but kilroy is aware of this, in fact she even addresses it towards the end. and if you see her audience as the nation of ireland, her bitterness rings through and it all comes together nicely. the anger is seeping through the page in this book in an interesting way i don’t know if i’ve seen before. this isn’t to say i totally went along with the obviousness of this book, but i gained more respect for it.

finally, i did like the ending which was interesting and felt feverish, similar to tristram’s own mindset. i like how certain things at the end were left to the imagination, as opposed to in the middle. interesting that tristram loses all clarity after the bust. the treatment of the character of edel is also really interesting — from another author i’d say it’s sexist but i get the feeling that kilroy is purposeful in including tristram’s view, although maybe that’s just wishful thinking. overall though this was really unique and i enjoyed, not really like anything i’ve read before

[Monica · Rating 4 out of 5]

A bleakly hilarious send up of the wretched excesses that drove the Irish economy off the edge of a cliff and beyond in 2006. The narration is the 2016 interrogation of Tristram St. Lawrence, Earl of Howth, regarding the economic crimes of the previous decade. St. Lawrence is an alcoholic who nearly died of the disease until joining AA and coming totally and naively under the influence of his sponsor, the mysterious M. Deauville.

Tristram returns to Ireland for the first time in years and encounters an old acquaintance, Desmond Hickey, a small time builder with big ambitions. Hickey wants to climb on the back of the Celtic Tiger and ride it full speed ahead, but he needs a quasi respectable figurehead. Tristram wants nothing to do with it but then suddenly Mr. Deauville wants him to take the lead on a small development on an old family property. Deauville sets up a shell bank to fund it and then it's Katy bar the door as one more leveraged overreach comes after another and the idiocy of the Irish banking system and the venality of politicians at the time lets it happen. It's an utter feeding frenzy and the hysteria of the builders, the potential buyers and the politicos are all mercilessly skewered.

It falls apart a bit at the end, but overall it's a great read.

[John Millard · Rating 4 out of 5]

I remember being 19 and thinking that an economy that is made healthier the faster it's resources are used up was in need of a new definition of "healthy". It seems to me that the best life to live is one where one is of use to ones fellow person. I believe there is a saying in Cider House Rules that simply states something like "It is good to be useful". I am grateful that I chose to work and to continue to work. It is likely that the desire to get by on the toil of others is what opens the door to the winds of madness which grows stronger with each gust.
This book is about madness both of the man and the race of men. Our false God of wealth continues time and time again to lure and devour the souls of men and now woman as well in this more enlightened modern age. This book examines that madness with a fine tooth comb. I loved it and found that I could not put it down until I finished.

[Maire · Rating 4 out of 5]

An unusual take on Ireland's Great Recession, this novel takes the form of one side of an interrogation during a legal investigation into the sketchy financial aspects of bankers. The story is told entirely in the voice of the Earl of Howth, and through his story, we learn all about his backstory, his activities during the boom and crash, and (of course) how the devil was involved. An excellent example of Irish storytelling that mixes in the fantastical, this novel made me laugh and made me shake my head at all of the craziness. It was a good read, but there's a section toward the end that just goes on for too long, and that stretched the limits of my sympathy for the main characters.

[Mariele · Rating 5 out of 5]

I never would have thought I'd find much amusement in a book about the Irish real estate crisis, but this novel was a joy to read. It had so many worthwhile elements. The 1st person narrator, testifying in front of an obscure panel, was one of the most cogent character voices I have had the pleasure to read in a long time. The story had rich character descriptions, a thinly-disguised mythological element (very much up my alley)(the tock tock tock revelation surprised me though), unexpected plot turns, a wonderful undercurrent bitter humour, and a very real Howth setting (I've been there, I could tell). There's also a priest hole. I loved it.

[Diane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Claire Kilroy's The Devil I Know is a very well-written tale of the real estate bubble in Ireland imploding on the heels of the banking debacle. She employs a format, deposition testimony, that would feel artless utilized by lesser writers and mostly does so with what appears to be a kind of effortless finesse. Caution lights go on a few times, but her tale never derails. If you are not up for some diabolical satire, you may want to move to another book. But for lovers of Ireland, twisted stories and wicked laughs, I predict you will enjoy this offering very much.

[Joan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was beautifully written with amazing descriptions of a bizarre time in the world's history that we have all lived through; the collapse of the international banking system and its effect on real estate and real estate investors. With a florid imagination,Claire Kilroy shows the destruction of a tottering landed gentry in a country well versed in sorrow. She takes a large scale economic dislocation and etches it in blood on the lives of tragic heroes. There is no happy ending here.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

Really interesting read. Gave me a small insight in to what was happening in Ireland leading up to the financial crisis. Characters and storyline are well written and held me throughout. I was routing for them, or at least Tristram, even though they were thoroughly immoral. Great read. Would recommend.

[Mary Lou · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a hugely entertaining lampoon of property developers contributing to the banking crisis. Claire Kilroy misses nobody here - corrupt bankers, politicans and the law. May not appeal to everyone's sense of humour, but I found this an immensely funny and clever read

[A.J. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was an excellent read: it captures the greed and insanity of the property boom of the Celtic Tiger years brilliantly, while presenting a realistic portrait of a recovering alcoholic and managing to be witty, thoughtful and a little fey at the same time. Loved it.

[Molly Ferguson · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a funny and compelling book that really explained the burst of the development bubble in Ireland in a fresh way. The devil comparisons were a bit heavy handed, and I didn't like the ending, but it was so fun to read that it pushed from three to four stars.

[Shiela · Rating 3 out of 5]

Claire Kilroy follows in the tradition of talented Irish storytellers with the gift of gab and a way with words. The story had me the whole way till the ending. Somehow I thought she would come up with a better ending. Well worth reading, though.

[Bernard · Rating 5 out of 5]

A finely executed blend of topical examination of contemporary Ireland and supernatural allegory. Devilishly enjoyable read.

[Sara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely delightful. I'm still digesting it and will write a longer review soon.

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

Captures the corruption and the absurdity of the end of the Celtic Tiger

[Marg Casey · Rating 5 out of 5]

This fascinating novel uses non-realism - gothic, the Faust legend, the vampire tale, and folktales of selling one’s soul to the devil-because the story it tells is too outrageous for realism.

The Celtic Tiger was a period of rapid growth from 1995-2007 fueled by foreign direct investment, especially export-oriented tech & pharma. In 2005 the New York Times called Ireland the "Wild West of European finance”: it was routine among the middle classes for one mortgaged property to be collateral for the next property, sometimes purchased abroad, and sometimes in locations that the purchaser had never visited! As was written at the time, the Irish got rich selling houses to each other. The property price bubble made the real economy far from competitive, but in 2008, the economy underwent a dramatic bust (as elsewhere).

Ireland experienced several banking scandals (overcharging of customers/ the issuance of unrepayable mortgages or loans). Nevertheless, the state’s finance regulator never imposed real sanctions on banks, and no Irish bankers were jailed. Even the kind of farcically extended inquiry with no ensuing convictions depicted by Kilroy was all too real. The fraud depicted in the novel regarding property and corrupt politicians and zoning and bribes–all was true also. Again, no one was jailed as the Irish establishments (in law, business, and politics) are as enmeshed as depicted by Kilroy. So, this is a gothic novel whose most outlandish moments are actually closest to real events.

Altogether, if you want to understand the mass delusion and moral bankruptcy of the Celtic Tiger, forget the economists and read this novel.

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a weird, interesting, and funny read, and not what I was expecting.

A friend, having finished and enjoyed it, gave it to me, and I'm so glad she did. Kilroy's story is a modern literary take on the "deal with the devil" tale; but what's the most fun is that the story is literal. This is not a figurative demon, though Tristram certainly has figurative demons as well. A real, live, super creepy devil makes an appearance, at least in Tristram's head. And I kind of trust him. Though I'm not sure why I do.

Kilroy organizes the story as a series of interviews with the local police, so the events unfold as Tristram recounts them, sitting in what I imagine to be a small, poorly lighted interview room. It's an effective style: the narrator speaks directly to Fergus, who is interviewing him, and because of the story he's telling and who we know him to be, we don't completely believe him. But it is compelling nonetheless.

[Margaret Mary Lynch · Rating 3 out of 5]

A story of the "boom" & "doom" in modern Ireland, as told by an investor who gets involved with a greedy developer and looses everything. He tells his story at the tribunals, of political bribery, shady deals, shoddy building standards, inflated prices and the ultimate collapse of the banks. He battles with his own personal demons with the support of his elusive sponsor M. Deauville but is that his real name and is there also a price to pay for doing deals with the devil?
An interesting read but it took me a while to finish as I kept putting it down in favour of more interesting books