Down all the days

by Christy Brown

A novel which focuses on a young cripple, his childhood and his coming of age, who acts as a detached observer of life in the slums of Dublin, during the 1940s and 50s.

Genres: Fiction, Novels, Classics, Irish Literature, Disability, Literature, Ireland

266 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1970

About the author

Christy Brown was an Irish artist and writer. However in order to do both these things he could only use his left foot. Having been born with cerebral palsy this was the only
way he could express himself.
He was born in Dublin on the 5th June 1932. His mother was the first to notice that something was wrong. But it wasn't until he was just over a year - old that his parents sort medical help. By now
there were distinct signs that he had something wrong with him. The doctors told his mother that nothing could be done. She would never give up on him though. It was through her help and
support that he achieved what he did. Her love and strong belief that he was not totally incapable
drove her onto prove this.
Then it happened when one day he picked up a piece of chalk in his left foot and unsure what do
next. She began to show him by writing the letter "A" and encouraging him to copy it. After some difficulty he managed to do this. She then went onto teach him the rest of his letters. She taught him
as best she could since he couldn't go to school even though by this time he
was 6.
She had a very large family but, despite having to look after all of them and doing the household chores, she still found time to help him. She even started to build an extension on the house
so he could have a room of his own, to begin with his father and 4 brothers all of whom were bricklayers, refused to build a room for him. So she began to do it herself and they then took over.
Christy Brown published his autobiography My Left Foot in 1954. It was later turned into an award winning film. He also published several novels before his death in 1981.

Reviews

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 5 out of 5]

Overshadowed by his remarkable autobiography (composed in the author’s very early twenties) My Left Foot, Christy Brown’s first autofictional novel Down All the Days is a magnum opus and one of the most raucous and vividly descriptive books of wartime and postwar Dublin in the canon of modern Irish classics. A BBC interviewer in 1972 rather bluntly asked Brown whether readers may rate his works as exemplary for “someone in his condition” (suffering from cerebral palsy and only able to type with his toes), as the patronisingly well-intentioned tend to receive art from disabled creators. There’s no escaping the fact that Brown’s felicity for language easily has him hobnobbing chez Joyce et al—his sentences wildly prolix, drunkenly musical, and fizzing over with lexical abandon, his ear for the crudity and cruelty of the hard-bitten Irish tongue is sublime, and his seemingly eidetic skill for descriptive detail puts the reader at the nucleus of every character and set-piece. A stonkingly underappreciated novel, a hilarious, joyous, painful, and inventive tribute to the lunacy of life.

[Liz Polding · Rating 5 out of 5]

James Joyce's worthy literary heir. Comparable with both the poignant Dubliners and the incredible Finnegan's Wake, which made me laugh and whose playful use of language opened up a whole new dimension in literature.

This is an incredible book. The use of language takes your breath away with its beauty and sheer audacity. The author's deft touch brings you into his world, full of warmth and humour, violence and raw, beautiful humanity. An utter treasure that will speak to the heart of anyone who knows the city and its mosaic of human experience.

[Craven · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a dollar shelf find while traveling around, my other choice was book on the psychology of serial killers. Fortunately, my lack of palette for gory true crime won out over my current obsession with neuroscience and I got this book instead. This isn't so much of a novel as it seems a impressionistic memoir of life in a Dublin ghetto as seen through the eyes of a boy in a family of sixteen siblings who has cerebral palsy. The voice in the book walks a thin line of detached observance-due to his disability-and deep kinship with his surroundings which leads to a warm and lyrical voice of beauteous and at times abstract description. At times I was drawn to apply brakes and chew on some of his wondrous description, while others times when it becomes abstract and subjective to simply relax and float downstream in the wordplay. Down All the Days is nothing if not sensual and if Baudelaire was correct when he said a genius is someone who can recall childhood at will, than this is the best example of that. Much of the book is about sexual awakening of a young Irish Catholic, and his description of the dissonance between desire and religious repression is exquisite, that of a man who could retain such early memories so neatly and strongly until he had the vocabulary of an adult to describe them. This book was typed out with a toe of Brown's left foot which is often lauded more than the actual work. I think that's more of an example of what created Brown's inner world and his ability to put that to paper is what is truly miraculous.

[Victoria · Rating 4 out of 5]

I finished reading this book, Down All the Days, by Christy Brown, last night, and I was shocked, amused, and heartbroken while reading this book. It is about a (lower, I assumed) middle class family living in the slums of Dublin, and what goes on (mainly) through the eyes of one of the sons of the family, whom is disabled. I think this book shows what a truly great writer Christy Brown was. This was lyrical, poetical, and sometimes downright vulgar. But I did indeed love that. For it's different style than what I've gotten used to - it's always nice to be emotionally shocked by a book and fall in love with the language and style of writing the author had. While it is a great read for the heart, I don't think it would be for everyone's heart.

[Henry Wright · Rating 5 out of 5]

The leap from My Left Foot to Down All the Days, a 15 year leap, is mind boggling. Perhaps the finest imagery in the English language. I couldn’t help re-reading passages for the pure joy of the vocabulary, the rhythm, the passion.

[A. Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

Elements of this novel will be familiar to anyone who knows My Left Foot, but while Down All the Days is at times explicitly autobiographical, it also explores some sophisticated stylistic strategies--occasional use of ordinary devices, pushed beyond ordinary use but not quite to the point of silliness. Brown alliterates perhaps five words in a sentence or hyphenates a string of up to seven adjectives. The novel is extremely visual, even in its traditional prose narrative sections, but when Brown writes the surrealistic dream sequences for his narrator, the characters and their strange behaviours and dialogue are vivid. This book is set among the poor, around Dorset Street, north of the Liffey in Dublin, in the 1930's and '40's. There is unemployment, violence, and drink, there is Nationalism and Catholicism, there is unrestrained reproduction--all staples in Irish writing. But this book also has some rhymed speeches that have a hint of the Greek chorus, some roiling overpopulated scenes that point to Dante, and some peculiar dissonant moments that are surrealistic Dali. One chapter most worthy of note is that in which we are privileged to hear the interior monologue as Paddy struggles home, drunk and ailing, thinking about what it means to be a man in a world where every act of desire results in another mouth to feed and wondering what happened to his life. It's a moving moment, and while it doesn't excuse the violence and dereliction, it is a rare and sympathetic treatment of an experience usually left unexplored. This is a very skillful and certain hand at work.

[Cathal Boylan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Christy Brown's novel, a thinly fictionalised account of his own early life, alternates between striking vignettes of family life in impoverished Dublin and Joycean stream-of-consciousness scenes. The novel was controversial on its publication, and one can see why: it is an unflinching, very real portrait of family life in post WWII Dublin, taking in all the bad as well as the good. The poverty, the drinking, the claustrophobia, the misogyny: it is all here. But so too is the strength and love of family, friends and community. The electric dialogue would not be out of place on stage in an O'Casey play, and some of his nightmarish mind-wanderings and frustrations - especially with his burgeoning sexuality - make for uncomfortable reading. But essential reading.

[Nickie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Funny old Ireland. It's a shock when, after 150 pages of assuming that you're reading a book set somewhere in the early part of the 21st century, the characters leave their home for the first time and you realise that it's the 1950s! Hard lives, marriages destroyed by drink and violence, hard catholicism, 22 children crammed arse to arse on mattresses, dead babies. No Yves Saint Laurent dresses for this lot.

It's carefully observed and beautifully detailed: "And the bells kept pealing and knots of people were thronging the streets in their Easter finery on their way to church, blessing themselves as the funeral went by in its long snake-like tedious procession through the bell-loud face-swarming iron-clanging worshipping rain-swept city." But there's something missing. Whether it's lack of a narrative thread or purpose, I don't know. But you can't help but feel, like the writer/boy who's sitting sprawled in a corner, ignored and observing that you're out of the action a little bit too much too. Still bloody good though.

[M.F. Soriano · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's got vivid portraits of Dublin slum life, but you're better off reading Angela's Ashes if you want that sort of story. The real thrill in Down All the Days is the hallucinatory brilliance Brown sometimes stumbles across with his writing. You have to fight through a fair bit of drek to get there--with lines like "Jem studiously studied his fag-end."--but you're also rewarded with lines like "the fleck of blood [...] burning like a geranium petal at sunset," or "her eyes like hard coal diamonds swimming in sperm," or my personal favorite: "Happiest were the children [...] their small bones sang in the earth forever."

[Dais · Rating 2 out of 5]

I personally found this hard to read in some parts, though others flowed very well. I do enjoy getting a taste of Ireland and what life was like as Christy Brown was growing up and appreciate his struggles to be heard. But, yes, I had to push myself to get through this book.

[Thom Dunn · Rating 3 out of 5]

When the film, My Left Foot, appeared, I found myself wondering which central character is the real Christy Brown.

[Simon Gianoutsos · Rating 2 out of 5]

There is beautifully written by an author that obviously has a love of language. I did however struggle to get into the book and ended up abandoning it half way through.

[Scott Rowley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Songbooks #10: Down All The Days
By Christy Brown (1970)
+ The Pogues (1989)

“Whaur ur you fae?”

March 1989. We’re standing in Bairds Bar, next door to Glasgow Barrowlands for a few pre-Pogues pints and some bawbags are giving us the usual pish: Whaur ur you fae? Whit school did ye go tae? Whit’s yer team? 

The only sensible answer is, “Gonnae fuck off, eh?”

The interior of Bairds provides a massive clue to the answers they want. It’s a riot of green, white and gold, a tribute to Glasgow Celtic, Irishness and Catholicism, in that order. Next to where we’re standing there’s a shrine to Jack and Bobby Kennedy (JFK being the first Catholic Prez. Biden is the second).

The bawbags can smell hun blood a mile aff. My mate is Catholic, but his name is Billy and we both went to the same Protestant school so… it’s complicated.

I read Down All The Days in 1989, the same year as the Christy Brown movie My Left Foot and The Pogues’ Peace And Love, and I can only vaguely remember that the book is funny and filthy in equal measure.

What I do remember is that Peace And Love was the first disappointing Pogues album as the rest of the band tried to cover for an increasingly shitfaced Shane MacGowan. This was Shane’s acid house period, he added acid and ecstasy on top of his drinking, and was out of it, even recording a 20 minute house track. 

It never made the cut. Maybe it should have. The others did what they could, taking on vocals and more of the songwriting, but the hot streak was over. Not only were those first three albums three of the best records made by anyone, The Pogues were one of the greatest live bands of the time - well worth running the gauntlet at Bairds Bar for.

Peace And Love still has some great tracks - Boat Train, White City, Misty Morning, Albert Bridge - and Down All The Days is nice enough. It features the classic lines: “I’ve often had to depend upon the kindliness of strangers/ But I’ve never been asked, and I’ve never replied, if I supported Glasgow Rangers”.

Some of us never got away with it that easily.

[Gülnaz · Rating 2 out of 5]

Kitabın, Sol Ayağım’ın ikinci kitabı olarak tanıtılması kişiyi çok yanlış bir yöne saptırıyor. Bakıyorsunuz ilk kitap kahraman anlatıcı bakış açısıyla yazılmış ama bu tanrısal bakış açısıyla. Konu bakımından da bariz farklılar. Haliyle de okurken (özellikle başlarda) “noluyo, nasıl yani???” diyor insan.

Ve bu başlıklandırma yalnızca Türkçede var sanırım, İngilizce olarak aratıp kapaklarına baktım, hiçbirinde ilk kitabın devamı olduğuna dair bir şey yoktu.

Bir de artık LÜTFEN şu yazım kurallarına dikkat edin kitaplarda, lütfen!!! Bendeki 2014 basımı, biraz eski, yeni basımlarda düzeltilmiştir belki hatalar. Ama yine de 2014 yılında da -de/-da’ları ayırıyorduk yani.

[Adrian Healey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Keine klassische Autobiographie, eher eine Reihe von schlaglichtartigen Szenen.
Während "Mein linker Fuß" ein Buch ist, dass mich tief bewegt hat und das ich schon mehrfach gelesen habe und nur empfehlen kann, bin ich mit "Ein Faß voll Leben" nicht warm geworden.
Aber vielleicht liegt das ja auch daran, dass mich die erste Autobiographie von Christy Brown so tief berührt hat.

[Susan Lenz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Almost every sentence, no matter how long or how many semicolons were in it, was delicious, almost like poetry from a time and place that knew poverty, abuse, hard drinking, song, and characters that might otherwise be overlooked. Christy Brown saw everything and recorded even the mundane in eloquent passages.

[Ekin]

7. Sınıfta Marie Lu’nun kitaplarına taktığım dönem böyle kitaplar yeter biraz da klasik(?) kitaplar oku diyerek bu seriyi almıştı ilk kitabı severek okumuştum diye hatırlıyorum ama ikinci kitabı bitirdikten sonra bir süre kitap okumadım kitabı hatırlamıyorum bu arada belki de iyi bi kitaptır ama o zamanlar benlik değildi

[Ahlem Belabbaci · Rating 2 out of 5]

Une autobiographie terrible relatant la vie au quotidien de familles irlandaises issues des quartiers pauvres de Dublin, des familles souvent nombreuses, rongées par la pauvreté et la misère. Le récit étant peint par un jeune homme paralysé le rend plus lugubre et sinistre.

[Erica Smythe · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautiful, honest, sad and uplifting book. You felt like you were part of all the happenings in the family - from being driven in the box cart and seeing things from the outside. Not an easy life for anyone. But an important social commentary on that time. Some beautiful writing.

[asan yilmaz · Rating 1 out of 5]

I couldn't finish the book till the end cause it is so boring real waste of time

[NeslihanK. · Rating 1 out of 5]

Bitirmekte çok zorlandım, ilk kitapla arasında dağlar kadar fark var. Sanki birbirinden farklı kişiler tarafından yazılmış gibiydi, bölümler ve anlatışta çok fazla kopukluklar var.

[Fatoş · Rating 1 out of 5]

Bi kitabı bitirmek bu kadar zor olabilir ancak. İlk kitapla uzaktan yakından alakası yok. Sırf başladığım bir kitabı bitirme huyum olduğu için bitirdim.

[Kürşat · Rating 1 out of 5]

Bana göre hiçbir devam niteliği bulunmayan saçma ve abartılı bir cinsellik bulunduran okunulmasına gerek olmayan bir kitap insanın gözünde ilk kitabın değerini düşürüyor.

[Johanna Juntunen · Rating 1 out of 5]

Viinaa pahoinpitelyjä utopistisia unikohtauksia. Ei mun juttuni. Leffa oli parempi.

[Samantha · Rating 1 out of 5]

Not for me. The parts sharing insight into his family were interesting. The rest I found to be vulgar and unnecessary.

[Kitty Williams · Rating 4 out of 5]

An unfathomable achievement

[Jane Watson · Rating 4 out of 5]

9/10 - 4,5

[Brian · Rating 5 out of 5]

“His eyes already voyaging, rising to meet the world”
Christy Brown writes like a symphony. The way he builds. Such a contrast to the last book; he doesn’t let you drift away.

Sublime; the poetry and humour of life, amidst the poverty and the tragedy. Tragedy is not quite the word; sadness and despair are never accepted as tragedy. They are shouldered with stoic fortitude and dry humour. He writes like a symphony. He can soar the heights as well as plumb the depths.

“Bejasus it’s just like a bloody wake in here”-“so it is yeh stoopid oul cow yeh”- “but sure we’re not all dead are we?”

“ suffering god! Said father with heavy resignation, putting down his fork. Can a man not come home in the evening and pass a pleasant word or two with his wife without being pissed up to the eyeballs? It’s enough to make a man lose his bloody appetite he said with absolute disgust, shovelling another forkful of cabbage and potatoes into his mouth”

The humour of his mother in particular shines through; her quiet strength; how she recovers from childbirth to rediscover youthful energy and song
P44 “in the long drawn out peace of a summer evening, he listened to the young voice of his mother singing around the once quiet house”- this whole page is beautiful

About an abusive husband: “still and all, sighed old Essie, pulling her faded snuff-scented skirt down over her skeleton knees, ‘he made a lovely corpse”

P86 beautiful the way he described the daughter Lily introducing father to new husband (rage) and new baby (gentle joy)




“A sea-lapping fringe of voices, faces, feet merging and mingling, waves breaking on a broken shore…”

Drunken revelry P92: “red magso coming in, newly and happily deprived of life-long spouse, grimly enjoying her widowhood”

P100 it’s heartbreaking as he head the girl that enraptured him with the solider : “their rapid breathing and bated whispering exchanges; the cat-like hiss of satin… and he heard in some far-off place within himself the clashing of one gate closing and the painful slow screech of another being opened”

It’s evocative and poetic about the growth into a teenager, with desires and dreams:

“At night, poised in that in-between land of dream and wakefulness bordered but unclouded by sleep”

P106; “nothing of peace or charm lasted longer than it took his beating heart to feel it, and he was back once more in the walled garden of his thoughts, chasing the shadow of such moments”

P110 the children growing up and saying she should leave; the father waking up and the creak of the floorboards brings back a vivid memory of grandad waking up after his afternoon sleep- back from the pub?


P197 another exceptional series of passages. the drunk father’s memories of his strong daughter from being picked up drunk off the street. “Another long-ago girl, quite small, quite breakable, comforting him, daggers drawn, face all on fire, putting herself in his path, afraid, yet daring, sacrificing herself to his wrath”

P224 the sadness of the loss of Lils newborn twins - and the little coffins

Father’s death is an apt end to this tragic comic tale- “the dark wings beating in his mind hiding him in shadow”

[Phil Sun · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an intense, at times hallucinatory view of 1940s and 1950s Dublin. We are introduced to one family and their neighbors. The family is large and fairly anonymous, ruled by a violent, temperamental father, whose wife is often pregnant and much-besieged. Life is raucous, often short-lived in their poor community. Those years before the advent of the Pill was terrible for too, too, too many.

The perspective shifts from chapter to chapter, focusing on a different character. There isn't a single central protagonist, although we suspect it is the nameless, disabled boy who is conveyed in a cart around the neighborhood by his brothers; who may or may not be Christy Brown. So much of the description feels as if it is comes from someone who is looking in, inconspicuously, at a vivid, astonishing world; someone whose yearning for adventure, unsatisfied, turns into delirium, an inchoate, often sexual rapture. For the nameless boy, shame and ecstasy are the constants of a thwarted desiring body.

[Alıntı Paylaşım · Rating 5 out of 5]

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Christy Brown - Sol Ayağım
Gönderen: Yasemin Ayrıç