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207 pages, Paperback
First published September 26, 2013
“How big is a feeling? Not even as big as one of them atoms that the science teacher used to be on about. It’s nothing and everything at the same time.”At first I thought our narrator, Johnsey, was a young child, his speech and thoughts seemed so childish and simple. Then I thought he was mentally challenged. Then I realized he might just be slower to understand than most other people. Stupid, you could say. And I pitied him. I pitied him his loneliness, and his simplistic worldview.
“This couldn’t be kept up, though, this way he had of seeing only blackness lately.”Split into 12 parts, starting with January ending with December, this is the story of Johnsey Cunliffe. Johnsey hasn’t lived the best life you can imagine, and not the worst either, at least not until both his parents die. Growing up he was shielded by his parents from the realities and cruelties of the world, sure he was bullied, but his parents never urged him to fight back, they never taught him how to survive in a world constantly out to get him, for being fat, for being stupid, for being different.
“It’s easy have things happen to you. All you have to do is exist. Making things happen back is the hard thing.”All his life, things have happened to Johnsey and now, suddenly, he has to make things happen back, without his parents or a soul in the world to guide him. He has to face society on his own, and traverse the delicate social waters of a tight-knit rural community. It results in a constant miscommunication between him and everyone else, and it breeds a prejudice and judgment that slowly grows into something large and ugly. Something that could have been averted, but slowly becomes inevitable, simply because humans are too good at judging based on assumed knowledge. We’re satisfied once we’ve found a scapegoat we can pin our frustrations and worries on. And if he never learned how to fight back? All the better.
Mother always said January is a lovely month. Everything starts over again in the New Year. The visitors are all finished with and you won't see sight nor hear sound of them until next Christmas with the help of God. Before you know it you'll see a stretch in the evenings. [...] The bit of frost kills any lingering badness. That's the thing about January; it makes the world fresh.Donal Ryan's short novel will follow the year, month by month in a small village in Tipperary. Though in the third person, it is told through the eyes of Johnsey Cunliffe, the twentyish son of a farming couple, a mother's boy, and not the sharpest knife in the box. His father has recently died and his mother follows soon after, leaving him the sole owner of the farm. The land is leased to tenant farmers, so he doesn't have that responsibility, but new zoning ordinances mean that the area can now be developed for commercial purposes, and he suddenly finds himself under pressure to sell. This for a man who can hardly hold down a menial job, does not own a phone, and can barely operate an ATM. But he has a wonderfully infectious voice, whether he is talking about memories of going to hurling matches with his father, his constant bullying at the hands of the local layabouts, or his dreams of sex:
Johnsey often thought about girls in his room. He had a dirty magazine that used to belong to Anthony Dwyer, who wasn't quite the gom Johnsey was, but who had the added hardship of being a meely-mawly with one leg shorter than the other. Looking at Dwyer's magazine often landed him in a sinful place and the thought of doing that made him feel like he sometimes did before walking up to Communion if the Moran girls were sitting near the front in their short skirts....In April, he gets caught in a fight and lands in hospital. Which changes his life in two significant ways. He meets a lovely nurse named Siobhán who seems to care for him, and he makes friends with his room-mate, an irrepressibly garrulous man some ten years his senior known as Mumbly Dave. So the second half of the book is no longer about his loneliness, but about whether he can rise above his awkwardness enough to handle friendship, and even love. Which may be harder still.
That's the thing about December: it goes by you in a flash.