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The Wren, the Wren
Named a Most Anticipated Book of the Year by TIME , The Millions , and Literary Hub
An incandescent novel from one of our greatest living novelists ( The Times ) about the inheritance of trauma, wonder, and love across three generations of women. Nell McDaragh never knew her grandfather, the celebrated Irish poet Phil McDaragh. But his love poems seem to speak directly to her. Restless and wryly self-assured, at twenty-two Nell leaves her mother Carmel’s orderly home to find her own voice as a writer (mostly online, ghost-blogging for an influencer) and to live a poetical life. As she chases obsessive love, damage, and transcendence, in Dublin and beyond, her grandfather’s poetry seems to guide her home. Nell’s mother, Carmel McDaragh, knows the magic of her Daddo’s poetry too well―the kind of magic that makes women in their nighties slip outside for a kiss and then elope, as her mother Terry had done. In his poems to Carmel, Phil envisions his daughter as a bright-eyed wren ascending in escape from his hand. But it is Phil who departs, abandoning his wife and two young daughters. Carmel struggles to reconcile “the poet” with the father whose desertion scars her life, along with that of her fiercely dutiful sister and their gentle, cancer-ridden mother. To distance herself from this betrayal, Carmel turns inward, raising Nell, her daughter, and one trusted love, alone. The Wren, the Wren brings to life three generations of McDaragh women who must contend with inheritances―of poetic wonder and of abandonment by a man who is lauded in public and carelessly selfish at home. Their other, stronger inheritance is a sustaining love that is “more than a strand of DNA, but a rope thrown from the past, a fat twisted rope, full of blood.” In sharp prose studded with crystalline poetry, Anne Enright masterfully braids a family story of longing, betrayal, and hope.
An incandescent novel from one of our greatest living novelists ( The Times ) about the inheritance of trauma, wonder, and love across three generations of women. Nell McDaragh never knew her grandfather, the celebrated Irish poet Phil McDaragh. But his love poems seem to speak directly to her. Restless and wryly self-assured, at twenty-two Nell leaves her mother Carmel’s orderly home to find her own voice as a writer (mostly online, ghost-blogging for an influencer) and to live a poetical life. As she chases obsessive love, damage, and transcendence, in Dublin and beyond, her grandfather’s poetry seems to guide her home. Nell’s mother, Carmel McDaragh, knows the magic of her Daddo’s poetry too well―the kind of magic that makes women in their nighties slip outside for a kiss and then elope, as her mother Terry had done. In his poems to Carmel, Phil envisions his daughter as a bright-eyed wren ascending in escape from his hand. But it is Phil who departs, abandoning his wife and two young daughters. Carmel struggles to reconcile “the poet” with the father whose desertion scars her life, along with that of her fiercely dutiful sister and their gentle, cancer-ridden mother. To distance herself from this betrayal, Carmel turns inward, raising Nell, her daughter, and one trusted love, alone. The Wren, the Wren brings to life three generations of McDaragh women who must contend with inheritances―of poetic wonder and of abandonment by a man who is lauded in public and carelessly selfish at home. Their other, stronger inheritance is a sustaining love that is “more than a strand of DNA, but a rope thrown from the past, a fat twisted rope, full of blood.” In sharp prose studded with crystalline poetry, Anne Enright masterfully braids a family story of longing, betrayal, and hope.
284 pages, Paperback
First published September 19, 2023
2014 people are currently reading
28214 people want to read
About the author
Anne Enright
53 books1,396 followersAnne Enright was born in Dublin, where she now lives and works. She has published three volumes of stories, one book of nonfiction, and five novels. In 2015, she was named the inaugural Laureate for Irish Fiction. Her novel The Gathering won the Man Booker Prize, and The Forgotten Waltz won the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,010 reviews
February 19, 2024
"it seems to me that women switch [...] from generation to generation: some get to tend and others to believe."
this is a sneaky, sticky book, one that can seem hard to read and eminently putdownable until at some point you realize the characters have become people, the structure impressive, and the strange vague writing poetic.
the very beginning was good, but it became something i didn't like very much, and then it turned back again into something new and better.
i don't think much about this book will stay with me, but that transformation will.
bottom line: a pleasant surprise.
3.5
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tbr review
apparently it's "frowned upon" to carry around a big sign that says I'M SMART, so i'll just read award winners
this is a sneaky, sticky book, one that can seem hard to read and eminently putdownable until at some point you realize the characters have become people, the structure impressive, and the strange vague writing poetic.
the very beginning was good, but it became something i didn't like very much, and then it turned back again into something new and better.
i don't think much about this book will stay with me, but that transformation will.
bottom line: a pleasant surprise.
3.5
-----------------------
tbr review
apparently it's "frowned upon" to carry around a big sign that says I'M SMART, so i'll just read award winners
July 25, 2023
I’m impossibly tongue-tied trying to review this novel (not being coy). I can’t say enough but if I start, I will say too much. On the linear level (which this novel is not), it comprises three generations of traumatized women, all stemming from Phil McDaragh, a (fictional) minor Irish poet, major womanizer, and scoundrel. He is celebrated for his published poetry about birds and other wonders of the natural world—the beauty arising ironically from his derelict mind. I was charmed to learn that Ireland’s birds are so small that most will fit in the palm of your hand. I got all electric at the thought. Plus, googling up the birds upgraded the reading experience. Kingfisher, corncrake, Bali myna—and snap, look up the ones you think you knew, like lark, blackbird, finch. I can still hear the cheeps and chirps emanating from the pages. Enright is a magician, a word bird herself, she can fly in many directions simultaneously and have it all home in.
Of a bullfinch—“…I saw the bird and I wanted to undo language and let him be.” This is after her expansive description that ends with, “Words only obscure him. Even the name, ‘bullfinch’, seems a form of littering, like a sticky label fixed to his feathers.” That’s a light example of Enright and her meticulous conjuring. It’s pointless to try and capture her wit; it’s like those palm-sized birds—they materialize and then whoosh! Gone.
And a word on the plot. There isn’t one that quite coheres before the end, but I adored her juxtapositions. The uncommon combinations of words convey the story better than a boilerplate or sweeping plot could do. Little seeds are planted at intervals, (such as, Phil’s granddaughter, Nell, who never met him, but is abused by his presence--really, his absent presence). Enright drops quiet little clues, and later she irrigates them with her spellbinding word serum. The plot is unlatched, like a basement bulkhead banging its bolt outside to the ground, with a winding time frame from above. Characters evolve as the narrative closes. Don’t read for plot, read it for the irresistible voice, the cast, the prose. I fell in love with how Enright bends language. She is as tender as she is pointed.
How quickly structure, concision, and shaded depth contributed, and distracted me out of my comfort zone. Fiction can bring us fast into the moment, with immediate effect. Some of us readers may be disgusted or alienated by the things these characters do. Phil, whose wife is dying of cancer--and in fact she is propped up on pillows to “…facilitate drainage,” is a real dirtbag. He accuses his dying wife of stealing or concealing his nonsense wristwatch. Meantime, he messes up the bedsheets and blankets searching for the thing around her, and then quickly leaves. After that horrifying scene, I felt dread. Sadly (sadly?) I was also urged to continue. I had to know the outcome. There were tragic scenes that repelled me, you’ll have to read them in context. “I realized that every stupid, small thing I said that first night we got together had landed somewhere wrong in him, and it rose up now as a taunt.”
TWTW tells a familiar story in the most singular way. The genesis of the trauma still lingers and threatens to dismantle all ongoing primary relationships. Abject agony is recognizable in any form, the hollow bottom of it, the things her characters witness in their past. Enright’s narrative is so active, so much happens the moment that you read it that you are astonished over and over.
“The temper was always there, waiting for either one of them. When Imelda hit Carmel, it reorganized the pain.
“And it was a kind of revelation, too. Afterwards, the world was very bright.”
Shivered at times while reading. 5 weighty stars! The birdsong made me want to read the whole novel over again. A huge thank you to Norton for sending me an ARC for review
PS (written days later, after reading other people's fine reviews)--I did not think of Sally Rooney (as likely others did) while reading. But it makes sense that they would be compared. Two compelling female authors who make wry observations of and about the people in their lives.
Of a bullfinch—“…I saw the bird and I wanted to undo language and let him be.” This is after her expansive description that ends with, “Words only obscure him. Even the name, ‘bullfinch’, seems a form of littering, like a sticky label fixed to his feathers.” That’s a light example of Enright and her meticulous conjuring. It’s pointless to try and capture her wit; it’s like those palm-sized birds—they materialize and then whoosh! Gone.
And a word on the plot. There isn’t one that quite coheres before the end, but I adored her juxtapositions. The uncommon combinations of words convey the story better than a boilerplate or sweeping plot could do. Little seeds are planted at intervals, (such as, Phil’s granddaughter, Nell, who never met him, but is abused by his presence--really, his absent presence). Enright drops quiet little clues, and later she irrigates them with her spellbinding word serum. The plot is unlatched, like a basement bulkhead banging its bolt outside to the ground, with a winding time frame from above. Characters evolve as the narrative closes. Don’t read for plot, read it for the irresistible voice, the cast, the prose. I fell in love with how Enright bends language. She is as tender as she is pointed.
How quickly structure, concision, and shaded depth contributed, and distracted me out of my comfort zone. Fiction can bring us fast into the moment, with immediate effect. Some of us readers may be disgusted or alienated by the things these characters do. Phil, whose wife is dying of cancer--and in fact she is propped up on pillows to “…facilitate drainage,” is a real dirtbag. He accuses his dying wife of stealing or concealing his nonsense wristwatch. Meantime, he messes up the bedsheets and blankets searching for the thing around her, and then quickly leaves. After that horrifying scene, I felt dread. Sadly (sadly?) I was also urged to continue. I had to know the outcome. There were tragic scenes that repelled me, you’ll have to read them in context. “I realized that every stupid, small thing I said that first night we got together had landed somewhere wrong in him, and it rose up now as a taunt.”
TWTW tells a familiar story in the most singular way. The genesis of the trauma still lingers and threatens to dismantle all ongoing primary relationships. Abject agony is recognizable in any form, the hollow bottom of it, the things her characters witness in their past. Enright’s narrative is so active, so much happens the moment that you read it that you are astonished over and over.
“The temper was always there, waiting for either one of them. When Imelda hit Carmel, it reorganized the pain.
“And it was a kind of revelation, too. Afterwards, the world was very bright.”
Shivered at times while reading. 5 weighty stars! The birdsong made me want to read the whole novel over again. A huge thank you to Norton for sending me an ARC for review
PS (written days later, after reading other people's fine reviews)--I did not think of Sally Rooney (as likely others did) while reading. But it makes sense that they would be compared. Two compelling female authors who make wry observations of and about the people in their lives.
April 25, 2024
**Shortlisted for the 2024 Women's Prize for Fiction**
“The connection between us is more than a strand of DNA, it is a rope thrown from the past, a fat twisted rope, full of blood.”
As the novel begins, we meet twenty-two-year-old Nell, who seeks to carve out a life for herself as a writer. Her need to be independent prompts her to move out of her mother’s home despite the financial struggles and loneliness it might entail. Nell’s relationship with her mother is complicated. Carmel, the daughter of Irish poet Phil McDaragh, carries the scars of a troubled childhood. Her father abandoned his family – Carmel, her sister and their terminally ill mother for greener pastures but left them with a legacy of debt and emotional trauma. Nell never met her grandfather but has been exposed to his work and is curious to know more about him. As the narrative progresses, we follow Nell as embarks on a deeply personal journey of self-awareness and healing, dealing with her frustration with her work and her relationship with Felim, who is controlling and abusive. We also follow Carmel’s story and are given a glimpse into how her experiences have taken a toll on her personal relationships and contributed to her inability to connect with her daughter, whom she loves dearly.
The Wren, the Wren by Anne Enright is an intense novel that explores the impact of trauma and the deep scars that are passed down through generations of a family. Anne Enright does a remarkable job of portraying the complex mother-daughter dynamic between Nell and Carmen. Multiple perspectives (Nell, Carmel and a brief segment from the PoV of Phil), allow us to explore the motivations, expectations and trauma experienced by the main characters which not only impacts their relationships but also influences their worldview and life choices. Personally, I found Carmel’s perspective the most compelling. The narrative is a tad disjointed and the structure is non-linear, which renders the story somewhat difficult to follow. I loved the poetry interspersed throughout the narrative and thought the sentiments conveyed through those verses beautifully carried the story forward. Despite the lack of cohesiveness throughout the course of the narrative, the author has done a commendable job of weaving the three main threads of the story together into a satisfying ending. I should mention that I did find one particularly descriptive scene of animal cruelty disturbing.
Many thanks to W.W. Norton and Company and NetGalley for the digital review copy. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This novel was published on September 19, 2023.
3.75⭐️
Connect with me! ✏ Instagram ✏ My Blog ✏ The StoryGraph
“The connection between us is more than a strand of DNA, it is a rope thrown from the past, a fat twisted rope, full of blood.”
As the novel begins, we meet twenty-two-year-old Nell, who seeks to carve out a life for herself as a writer. Her need to be independent prompts her to move out of her mother’s home despite the financial struggles and loneliness it might entail. Nell’s relationship with her mother is complicated. Carmel, the daughter of Irish poet Phil McDaragh, carries the scars of a troubled childhood. Her father abandoned his family – Carmel, her sister and their terminally ill mother for greener pastures but left them with a legacy of debt and emotional trauma. Nell never met her grandfather but has been exposed to his work and is curious to know more about him. As the narrative progresses, we follow Nell as embarks on a deeply personal journey of self-awareness and healing, dealing with her frustration with her work and her relationship with Felim, who is controlling and abusive. We also follow Carmel’s story and are given a glimpse into how her experiences have taken a toll on her personal relationships and contributed to her inability to connect with her daughter, whom she loves dearly.
The Wren, the Wren by Anne Enright is an intense novel that explores the impact of trauma and the deep scars that are passed down through generations of a family. Anne Enright does a remarkable job of portraying the complex mother-daughter dynamic between Nell and Carmen. Multiple perspectives (Nell, Carmel and a brief segment from the PoV of Phil), allow us to explore the motivations, expectations and trauma experienced by the main characters which not only impacts their relationships but also influences their worldview and life choices. Personally, I found Carmel’s perspective the most compelling. The narrative is a tad disjointed and the structure is non-linear, which renders the story somewhat difficult to follow. I loved the poetry interspersed throughout the narrative and thought the sentiments conveyed through those verses beautifully carried the story forward. Despite the lack of cohesiveness throughout the course of the narrative, the author has done a commendable job of weaving the three main threads of the story together into a satisfying ending. I should mention that I did find one particularly descriptive scene of animal cruelty disturbing.
Many thanks to W.W. Norton and Company and NetGalley for the digital review copy. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This novel was published on September 19, 2023.
3.75⭐️
Connect with me! ✏ Instagram ✏ My Blog ✏ The StoryGraph
August 25, 2023
This is a book that is bound to divide opinion - it’s beautifully written, of that there is no doubt, but I found it overwrought and dull. It’s much more abstract than Enright’s previous work that I’ve read.
There wasn’t enough of a story for me to feel invested in the characters and I grew weary of the central character, the appropriately named philanderer Phil McDaragh. He takes up rather a lot of space in the book despite having only one chapter (a deliberate ploy I’m sure to illustrate how many men like to spread themselves out and make their presence felt).
The story is really supposed to be about Phil’s wife Carmel, and her daughters Nell and (to a lesser extent) Imelda. Nell has left home to see the world. She has a fractious relationship with her mother Carmel and has fallen for Felim, a man with the distinct cut of her grandfather. In loose threads that vaguely resemble a story, we get the POV of Nell, Carmel and later Phil, as Enright burrows into generational trauma through the medium of poetry.
This was a hard one to penetrate. I found it pretty difficult to feel anything for the characters or the book, beyond an appreciation of some lovely imagery and turns of phrase. There’s a harrowing scene of animal cruelty involving a dog and a badger.
A book to read when you’re in the mood for some poetry and not too fussed on there being a story. 2.5/5 ⭐️
*Many thanks to the author, publisher Jonathan Cape and @netgalley for the opportunity to read this book in advance of publication. As always, this is an honest review.*
There wasn’t enough of a story for me to feel invested in the characters and I grew weary of the central character, the appropriately named philanderer Phil McDaragh. He takes up rather a lot of space in the book despite having only one chapter (a deliberate ploy I’m sure to illustrate how many men like to spread themselves out and make their presence felt).
The story is really supposed to be about Phil’s wife Carmel, and her daughters Nell and (to a lesser extent) Imelda. Nell has left home to see the world. She has a fractious relationship with her mother Carmel and has fallen for Felim, a man with the distinct cut of her grandfather. In loose threads that vaguely resemble a story, we get the POV of Nell, Carmel and later Phil, as Enright burrows into generational trauma through the medium of poetry.
This was a hard one to penetrate. I found it pretty difficult to feel anything for the characters or the book, beyond an appreciation of some lovely imagery and turns of phrase. There’s a harrowing scene of animal cruelty involving a dog and a badger.
A book to read when you’re in the mood for some poetry and not too fussed on there being a story. 2.5/5 ⭐️
*Many thanks to the author, publisher Jonathan Cape and @netgalley for the opportunity to read this book in advance of publication. As always, this is an honest review.*
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November 10, 2023“The bird is no one’s servant. He is not dapper. Words only obscure him. Long before any of us were here, and long after we are gone, he did and will exist. When our lipsticks, our servants, our bleached and plundered coral are all dead or buried in landfill, he will perch on top of it and sing.”
I confess to being a birdwatcher, even the obsessive kind with binoculars by my observation window. There is no mystery as to why I wanted to read this newest Enright novel. Add to the bird connection my love of multigenerational novels, this would have to be a winner. It was and it wasn’t.
Three generations of a damaged family - wounded by the grandfather, the great poet but lousy father and husband, Phil McDaragh. He also was wounded, a bird caught in a cage of everyday life but desiring the freedom to fly. Fly away he does, from his sick wife and his bewildered children. Carmel, his favorite of the two daughters he left behind, never has a satisfying relationship with a man. Is it because of her famous father? It seems to be. Nell, Carmel’s daughter who strongly resembles Phil also has trouble with male relationships. Does she stay in an abusive relationship because she has no
male role model? That also seems to be the case.
It may be unusual for a reader to grow fonder of a book when reflecting back, but I finished this novel a week ago and find myself thinking about it and enjoying it in retrospect much more so than I did while reading it. I empathized with the characters even liked them.The ending was satisfying. I loved the inclusion of poetry. Enright is definitely a gifted writer. But here is my dilemma. I never looked forward to picking up the book. I don’t remember even caring about what happened next. It didn’t flow and was confusing at times. I have trouble understanding abusive and violent relationships. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Can that be true of books? It was for me. It is impossible for me to accurately rate this book.
I confess to being a birdwatcher, even the obsessive kind with binoculars by my observation window. There is no mystery as to why I wanted to read this newest Enright novel. Add to the bird connection my love of multigenerational novels, this would have to be a winner. It was and it wasn’t.
Three generations of a damaged family - wounded by the grandfather, the great poet but lousy father and husband, Phil McDaragh. He also was wounded, a bird caught in a cage of everyday life but desiring the freedom to fly. Fly away he does, from his sick wife and his bewildered children. Carmel, his favorite of the two daughters he left behind, never has a satisfying relationship with a man. Is it because of her famous father? It seems to be. Nell, Carmel’s daughter who strongly resembles Phil also has trouble with male relationships. Does she stay in an abusive relationship because she has no
male role model? That also seems to be the case.
It may be unusual for a reader to grow fonder of a book when reflecting back, but I finished this novel a week ago and find myself thinking about it and enjoying it in retrospect much more so than I did while reading it. I empathized with the characters even liked them.The ending was satisfying. I loved the inclusion of poetry. Enright is definitely a gifted writer. But here is my dilemma. I never looked forward to picking up the book. I don’t remember even caring about what happened next. It didn’t flow and was confusing at times. I have trouble understanding abusive and violent relationships. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Can that be true of books? It was for me. It is impossible for me to accurately rate this book.
January 21, 2024
There’s a brilliant scene about a third of the way into The Wren, The Wren that I can’t get out of my head. Carmel, the middle generation of a trio of women around whom the narrative revolves, enters her childhood home that is now owned by her elder sister, Imelda. Carmel is burning with righteous anger. Who lunges at whom first is a matter of she said, she said, but the row that follows is epic. Enright relates it blow-by-blow—the shoves, slaps, kicks, claws, curtains ripped down, pottery thrown. A fight that takes place in utter silence, the sisters aware of their mother upstairs, dying of cancer.
The sisters forgetting in their single-minded rage that their mother is already dead.
What I love about these five brutal and hilarious paragraphs is the way Anne Enright captures the rage and passion—the hot, vibrant humanity—the women in this novel feel but are so rarely able to express. This choking off of voice runs from the global—the inherent silence of women; to the situational—Ireland in the 1970s-80s; to the intimate—this is legacy of being a McDaragh.
Phil McDaragh, a fictional poet, rose to fame in the 1960s with love poems, many of which are reprinted in the text, a deliciously meta conceit. Phil’s public persona is of a sensitive, tender poet who captures passion's mysteries. At home he is a self-absorbed bully who shouts and hits when things don’t go his way. He leaves his wife Terry and two daughters, 12-year-old Carmel and 16-year old Imelda, as Terry is recovering from a mastectomy. The poet, already well-known, decamps to America, where he eventually pushes through a divorce and marries a young American heiress (neither act is recognized in 1970’s Ireland). The Wren, The Wren displays the aftermath of his decisions primarily from the perspective of Carmel in middle-age hindsight, but also through Phil’s granddaughter, Nell. The novel’s central theme is the inheritance of loss, of grit, and of literary wonderment.
Carmel pushes her way through life, resolutely alone, her daughter the result of a brief affair with a foreign student attending the language school she manages in Dublin. She seals her life up tightly with work and the all-consuming task of raising a headstrong daughter on her own.
Nell grows up fiercely attached to her mother until the time comes when she violently rips away. Unlike her mother, who is single-minded in her independence, Nells drifts, aimless and untethered. She’s a product of her generation, finding vaguely defined work creating online content for social media influencers, living a college dorm existence long after finishing university, complete with frequent hangovers and roommates who leave wet laundry in the washer for so long, it begins to rot. She sinks into an obsessive relationship with a man that turns subtly then grossly abusive, but her own sense of self is so tangled and undefined, she floats along, unwilling to extract herself.
This is a novel of small things, of moments intimate and passing, that later we realize are the monumental moments when our lives changed. Anne Enright, in the lovely Author’s Note at the end, reveals the inspiration for the novel came from a comment another writer made when discussing his divorce: “My wife got sick,” he explained almost incidentally. “And we split up.” Years later it struck her that he’d abandoned his wife and family when things got rough.
Enright is one of my favorite writers—I am ever in awe of her ability to capture the complexities of human behavior: the cruelty that can coexist with the selfless and sublime. On the surface, her narratives can seem so heavy and despairing, but in truth, she writes with such wit and compassion. There is always a thread of grace running through that elevates even the most desperate moments into an inevitable redemption.
The sisters forgetting in their single-minded rage that their mother is already dead.
What I love about these five brutal and hilarious paragraphs is the way Anne Enright captures the rage and passion—the hot, vibrant humanity—the women in this novel feel but are so rarely able to express. This choking off of voice runs from the global—the inherent silence of women; to the situational—Ireland in the 1970s-80s; to the intimate—this is legacy of being a McDaragh.
Phil McDaragh, a fictional poet, rose to fame in the 1960s with love poems, many of which are reprinted in the text, a deliciously meta conceit. Phil’s public persona is of a sensitive, tender poet who captures passion's mysteries. At home he is a self-absorbed bully who shouts and hits when things don’t go his way. He leaves his wife Terry and two daughters, 12-year-old Carmel and 16-year old Imelda, as Terry is recovering from a mastectomy. The poet, already well-known, decamps to America, where he eventually pushes through a divorce and marries a young American heiress (neither act is recognized in 1970’s Ireland). The Wren, The Wren displays the aftermath of his decisions primarily from the perspective of Carmel in middle-age hindsight, but also through Phil’s granddaughter, Nell. The novel’s central theme is the inheritance of loss, of grit, and of literary wonderment.
Carmel pushes her way through life, resolutely alone, her daughter the result of a brief affair with a foreign student attending the language school she manages in Dublin. She seals her life up tightly with work and the all-consuming task of raising a headstrong daughter on her own.
Nell grows up fiercely attached to her mother until the time comes when she violently rips away. Unlike her mother, who is single-minded in her independence, Nells drifts, aimless and untethered. She’s a product of her generation, finding vaguely defined work creating online content for social media influencers, living a college dorm existence long after finishing university, complete with frequent hangovers and roommates who leave wet laundry in the washer for so long, it begins to rot. She sinks into an obsessive relationship with a man that turns subtly then grossly abusive, but her own sense of self is so tangled and undefined, she floats along, unwilling to extract herself.
This is a novel of small things, of moments intimate and passing, that later we realize are the monumental moments when our lives changed. Anne Enright, in the lovely Author’s Note at the end, reveals the inspiration for the novel came from a comment another writer made when discussing his divorce: “My wife got sick,” he explained almost incidentally. “And we split up.” Years later it struck her that he’d abandoned his wife and family when things got rough.
Enright is one of my favorite writers—I am ever in awe of her ability to capture the complexities of human behavior: the cruelty that can coexist with the selfless and sublime. On the surface, her narratives can seem so heavy and despairing, but in truth, she writes with such wit and compassion. There is always a thread of grace running through that elevates even the most desperate moments into an inevitable redemption.
October 19, 2023
This is now my fourth Enright novel and while I adored her Booker nominated The Green Road, and slightly less so her Booker winning The Gathering, I was even less enchanted with her last book, Actress. She seems back to form with this one though, and I raced through the last 200 pages in only a few hours, it was that compelling. That said, I have a feeling that 3 days from now I won't remember much of it - it just seemed a bit ... ephemeral.
Suffice to say, it is about three generations of Irish women and their love/hate relationships to an Irish poet, Phil McDaragh, told from the alternating perspectives of his daughter and granddaughter, with one segue into Phil's own childhood reminiscences, and a scattering of poetry, allegedly written by or translated by the man. These I found a bit disconcerting, as he is supposedly world-renowned, but the poems, to my ear, sounded rather dreadful. The Guardian review seems spot-on, so rather than reiterate what it says, I'll just link it here for anyone interested: https://www.theguardian.com/books/202....
Suffice to say, it is about three generations of Irish women and their love/hate relationships to an Irish poet, Phil McDaragh, told from the alternating perspectives of his daughter and granddaughter, with one segue into Phil's own childhood reminiscences, and a scattering of poetry, allegedly written by or translated by the man. These I found a bit disconcerting, as he is supposedly world-renowned, but the poems, to my ear, sounded rather dreadful. The Guardian review seems spot-on, so rather than reiterate what it says, I'll just link it here for anyone interested: https://www.theguardian.com/books/202....
September 1, 2023
another bop from Anne THEE Enright.
May 20, 2024
*Rereading this one before I give a proper review.
April 5, 2024
I have to start by saying I think at least 3/4 of this book went over my literary head. I was never quite sure what this book was trying to say, even at the end. But I kept listening as I hoped there would be an epiphany at the end. So far no but its early days yet.
I kept recalling a quote by Joan Didion as I read this. It goes something like--"A place belongs forever to whoever claims it the hardest, remembers it most obsessively and wrenches it from itself...."
In this book you could say the same thing about memories. A memory always belongs only to the person remembering it and that memory may and often does change over time.
This story concerns a single mother and her daughter--Carmel and Neil. Carmel has never quite forgiven her Irish poet father for deserting their family during her teenage years. Neil her daughter is a young woman attempting to find her own way in the world, writing blogs for others and doing travel pieces for Zines. Always floating just beyond and influencing all is Phil--the great Irish poet who was loved by his Irish countrymen and now dead seems to have lost none of his influence over his two daughters and through them his granddaughter.
Much of Carmel's story is recall, her early life, her father's poetry, her mother's death of cancer, her decision to have and raise a daughter on her own and the trials and tribulations of that decision. Neil's chapters are more present day concerns, travel, old and new boyfriends and her current fumbling toward a career and looking for meaning in her life and pursuits and often coming up empty.
It was an interesting story at times but I did not feel engaged with these characters and while the language and particularly the poetry that was used to separate chapters was quite striking. I feel I took little away from this reading. 2.5 stars raised to 3 as I do believe I missed a lot.
I kept recalling a quote by Joan Didion as I read this. It goes something like--"A place belongs forever to whoever claims it the hardest, remembers it most obsessively and wrenches it from itself...."
In this book you could say the same thing about memories. A memory always belongs only to the person remembering it and that memory may and often does change over time.
This story concerns a single mother and her daughter--Carmel and Neil. Carmel has never quite forgiven her Irish poet father for deserting their family during her teenage years. Neil her daughter is a young woman attempting to find her own way in the world, writing blogs for others and doing travel pieces for Zines. Always floating just beyond and influencing all is Phil--the great Irish poet who was loved by his Irish countrymen and now dead seems to have lost none of his influence over his two daughters and through them his granddaughter.
Much of Carmel's story is recall, her early life, her father's poetry, her mother's death of cancer, her decision to have and raise a daughter on her own and the trials and tribulations of that decision. Neil's chapters are more present day concerns, travel, old and new boyfriends and her current fumbling toward a career and looking for meaning in her life and pursuits and often coming up empty.
It was an interesting story at times but I did not feel engaged with these characters and while the language and particularly the poetry that was used to separate chapters was quite striking. I feel I took little away from this reading. 2.5 stars raised to 3 as I do believe I missed a lot.
October 26, 2023
⭐️⭐️
2 stars
I enjoyed the lyrical prose.. sadly that's the only positive I can take from this novel. I'm all for a 'no plot, just vibes' as long as the characters are deep and interesting enough to capture my interest. They weren't.
I think this will be a marmite book. I can see why some will love it, and why others will feel as frustrated as I. There's also a very graphic animal abuse scene.
Meh.
2 stars
I enjoyed the lyrical prose.. sadly that's the only positive I can take from this novel. I'm all for a 'no plot, just vibes' as long as the characters are deep and interesting enough to capture my interest. They weren't.
I think this will be a marmite book. I can see why some will love it, and why others will feel as frustrated as I. There's also a very graphic animal abuse scene.
Meh.
May 6, 2024
Shortlised Women's Prize for Fiction 2024.
Enright's 'The Wren The Wren' is a superbly written novel that explores familial relationships, a recurring theme throughout her work. The narrative centers on the complex, fraught relationship between an Irish mother, Carmel, and her daughter, Nell. Through their story, Enright explores the ties and divisions of family inheritance and legacy, shaping identities even as individuals strive for their independence and self-identity. Themeatically, this also concerns Irish cultural identity, especially relating to literary heritage and traditions.
At the heart of the story lies the unresolved, fraught relationship with Carmel's father, Phil McDaragh, a celebrated Irish lyric poet, who abandons his family in the 1980s to pursue the life of a 'roving Irish poet'. Enright skillfully satirises this romanticised poet figure, while also acknowledging the powerful allure he exerts for his daughter, grandaughter, and readers alike. At moments this portrayal of Phil is ferociously and darkly comedic.
What makes "The Wren The Wren" brilliant is Enright's ability to maintain the tension between these different understandings and experiences of 'Phil', literature, language, desire, and love. The poetic in this work, as represented by Phil and his poems, is often darkly manipulative, yet authentically meaningful and visionary, connecting us with something slippery, transcendent, elusive. Here Enright also takes aim at the patriarchal legacies of this Irish literary heritage, while recognising its seductive allure. Throughout the novel she's clear-eyed about the costs to the lives of women imposed by this celebrated heritage.
Enright intersperes Phil's poems throughout the novel, inviting readers to interpret the story and its themes through this poetic lens and sensibility. Some of this verse is almost caricatured, with lines about love, romance, Irish idylic countryside, flora and fauna. For example, 'A Scent of Thyme', a poem that features heavily through the book, is derived from a traditional Irish verse song, 'Ceann Dubh Dilis'. This 18th century love song has had various poetic versions, including by Irish poet Samuel Ferguson. It incorporates Irish folklore and mythology and is deeply informed by the Irish literary revival that sought to reclaim and assert Irish culture and identity. But reinforcing the troubling side of this literary inheritance, this poem frames Nell's darkly disturbing first-person account of her abusive sexual relationship with a young man, Felim: "Another time, he loves me. He controls the thing he loves. He is precise, I am the chaos. I feel the room carve in two in front of my jostled eyes and space remake itself. That is what the gristle of his soul-splitting prick can do to me. And when he has pulled me apart, I remain whole. When it stops, I am, magically, still here".
From the midst of her pain and confusion, Nel's poetic voice emerges to disrupt and contest that literary and cultural inheritance that's too often expressed as a form of toxic, controlling masculinity. There's so much in this work about generational trauma and the struggle to escape it. In scene after disturbing scene Enright sharply conveys the raw, visceral violence that this culture inflicts on women.
In terms of narrative structure, Enright organises the work around two distinct and alternating, non-linear sections: Carmel's third-person and Nel's first-person narratives. The sections written in third-person titled 'Carmel', cover the various events in her life, including her relationship with Phil, his abandonment of the family, her relationship with her older sister Imelda, and centrally, her relationship with Nell. This section includes an account of Phil 'wooing' his future wife, Terry. Phil, "...won her with verse."
In the subsequent years Carmel's contact with Phil primarily consists of receiving a few postcards, signed "Daddo". However, we encounter the poem titled, 'The Wren The Wren' that Phil dedicated to her. It includes the lines,
the wren the wren
was a panic
of feathered air
in my opening hand
so fierce and light
I did not feel
the push
of her ascent
away from me.
The closing lines are:
"my life, my daughter,
the far away sky is cold
and very blue"
This poem encapsulates the central themes and contradictions at the core of this work. Despite the poetic and narrative deceit in Phil's deplorable act of abandoning his family, while his wife was recovering from a mastectomy, only to seek redemption through this poetic dedication, there remains an undeniable undercurrent of authentic love and pain. Enright offers a deeply felt portrayal of how individuals struggle to connect and love through language. Nonetheless, some may question the effectiveness of integrating the poems with the overall narrative structure.
In the sections titled Nel, readers are immersed in the messy experience of a young woman finding her way in the world, lovingly grappling with her somewhat suffocating mother, and coming to terms with her conflicted family inheritance. Aditionally, we are given a section titled 'Phil', also narrated in first-person, in which Enright conjures a compelling account of his formative years and the experience that shaped his poetic commitments: "Now, I know the indelible thing was the glance I exchanged with the badger pup, as he waited for the fatal blow to fall. Nothing in my life, before or since, has matched that connection. It was a peak of understanding from which my whole existence, with its loves and false joys and tedious losses, has slowly fallen away".
Enright's skill in portraying these distinct yet overlapping narrative voices and subjectivities is remarkable. For instance, her depiciton of Nel's fragmented experience, influenced by social media, is highly effective. Nel, who has studied Social Media communication at University, produces and writes content for social media influencers.
This formal interweaving of the different narrative voices and perspectices of Carmel, Nell and Phil, along with other sources such as poems and letters, creatively illuminates the work's key themes of time and intergenerational trauma and love.
To me, 'The Wren The Wren' provides a literary lens through which to consider and experience the search for these 'peaks of understanding" — moments when, through language and touch, we strive to bridge the spaces between us. However, these acts of connection, whether through love or poetry, can be painful and manipulative. As Nell observes towards the novel's conclusion, after finding herself in what is shaping up as a possibly more authentic, healthy relationship with a young man and also reaching a maturing understanding of her mother, "One Day The bubble burst for me, whatever the bubble is, that huge oily membrane shivering above my life,that sometimes I call love and sometimes dread". It's apt that this resolution is renderd in Nell's own use of poetic imagery and language that she wrests from her grandfather and his particular version of Irish literary culture. In coming to terms with Phil's inheritance and its impacts on her life, Nell begins to claim and assert her own poetic voice and form.
In the final few pages, Enright wonderfully pulls all this smart, literary contemplation out from under my feet, "The bird looks me in the eye - he seems to know this is the place to look at a human being - and I look back at him. And with that smart, held connection, the story I made up for him falls away. The bird is no one's servant."
I greatly admire the literary looking of 'The Wren The Wren' and believe it would be a worthy winner of this year's Women's Prize for Fiction.
Enright's 'The Wren The Wren' is a superbly written novel that explores familial relationships, a recurring theme throughout her work. The narrative centers on the complex, fraught relationship between an Irish mother, Carmel, and her daughter, Nell. Through their story, Enright explores the ties and divisions of family inheritance and legacy, shaping identities even as individuals strive for their independence and self-identity. Themeatically, this also concerns Irish cultural identity, especially relating to literary heritage and traditions.
At the heart of the story lies the unresolved, fraught relationship with Carmel's father, Phil McDaragh, a celebrated Irish lyric poet, who abandons his family in the 1980s to pursue the life of a 'roving Irish poet'. Enright skillfully satirises this romanticised poet figure, while also acknowledging the powerful allure he exerts for his daughter, grandaughter, and readers alike. At moments this portrayal of Phil is ferociously and darkly comedic.
What makes "The Wren The Wren" brilliant is Enright's ability to maintain the tension between these different understandings and experiences of 'Phil', literature, language, desire, and love. The poetic in this work, as represented by Phil and his poems, is often darkly manipulative, yet authentically meaningful and visionary, connecting us with something slippery, transcendent, elusive. Here Enright also takes aim at the patriarchal legacies of this Irish literary heritage, while recognising its seductive allure. Throughout the novel she's clear-eyed about the costs to the lives of women imposed by this celebrated heritage.
Enright intersperes Phil's poems throughout the novel, inviting readers to interpret the story and its themes through this poetic lens and sensibility. Some of this verse is almost caricatured, with lines about love, romance, Irish idylic countryside, flora and fauna. For example, 'A Scent of Thyme', a poem that features heavily through the book, is derived from a traditional Irish verse song, 'Ceann Dubh Dilis'. This 18th century love song has had various poetic versions, including by Irish poet Samuel Ferguson. It incorporates Irish folklore and mythology and is deeply informed by the Irish literary revival that sought to reclaim and assert Irish culture and identity. But reinforcing the troubling side of this literary inheritance, this poem frames Nell's darkly disturbing first-person account of her abusive sexual relationship with a young man, Felim: "Another time, he loves me. He controls the thing he loves. He is precise, I am the chaos. I feel the room carve in two in front of my jostled eyes and space remake itself. That is what the gristle of his soul-splitting prick can do to me. And when he has pulled me apart, I remain whole. When it stops, I am, magically, still here".
From the midst of her pain and confusion, Nel's poetic voice emerges to disrupt and contest that literary and cultural inheritance that's too often expressed as a form of toxic, controlling masculinity. There's so much in this work about generational trauma and the struggle to escape it. In scene after disturbing scene Enright sharply conveys the raw, visceral violence that this culture inflicts on women.
In terms of narrative structure, Enright organises the work around two distinct and alternating, non-linear sections: Carmel's third-person and Nel's first-person narratives. The sections written in third-person titled 'Carmel', cover the various events in her life, including her relationship with Phil, his abandonment of the family, her relationship with her older sister Imelda, and centrally, her relationship with Nell. This section includes an account of Phil 'wooing' his future wife, Terry. Phil, "...won her with verse."
In the subsequent years Carmel's contact with Phil primarily consists of receiving a few postcards, signed "Daddo". However, we encounter the poem titled, 'The Wren The Wren' that Phil dedicated to her. It includes the lines,
the wren the wren
was a panic
of feathered air
in my opening hand
so fierce and light
I did not feel
the push
of her ascent
away from me.
The closing lines are:
"my life, my daughter,
the far away sky is cold
and very blue"
This poem encapsulates the central themes and contradictions at the core of this work. Despite the poetic and narrative deceit in Phil's deplorable act of abandoning his family, while his wife was recovering from a mastectomy, only to seek redemption through this poetic dedication, there remains an undeniable undercurrent of authentic love and pain. Enright offers a deeply felt portrayal of how individuals struggle to connect and love through language. Nonetheless, some may question the effectiveness of integrating the poems with the overall narrative structure.
In the sections titled Nel, readers are immersed in the messy experience of a young woman finding her way in the world, lovingly grappling with her somewhat suffocating mother, and coming to terms with her conflicted family inheritance. Aditionally, we are given a section titled 'Phil', also narrated in first-person, in which Enright conjures a compelling account of his formative years and the experience that shaped his poetic commitments: "Now, I know the indelible thing was the glance I exchanged with the badger pup, as he waited for the fatal blow to fall. Nothing in my life, before or since, has matched that connection. It was a peak of understanding from which my whole existence, with its loves and false joys and tedious losses, has slowly fallen away".
Enright's skill in portraying these distinct yet overlapping narrative voices and subjectivities is remarkable. For instance, her depiciton of Nel's fragmented experience, influenced by social media, is highly effective. Nel, who has studied Social Media communication at University, produces and writes content for social media influencers.
This formal interweaving of the different narrative voices and perspectices of Carmel, Nell and Phil, along with other sources such as poems and letters, creatively illuminates the work's key themes of time and intergenerational trauma and love.
To me, 'The Wren The Wren' provides a literary lens through which to consider and experience the search for these 'peaks of understanding" — moments when, through language and touch, we strive to bridge the spaces between us. However, these acts of connection, whether through love or poetry, can be painful and manipulative. As Nell observes towards the novel's conclusion, after finding herself in what is shaping up as a possibly more authentic, healthy relationship with a young man and also reaching a maturing understanding of her mother, "One Day The bubble burst for me, whatever the bubble is, that huge oily membrane shivering above my life,that sometimes I call love and sometimes dread". It's apt that this resolution is renderd in Nell's own use of poetic imagery and language that she wrests from her grandfather and his particular version of Irish literary culture. In coming to terms with Phil's inheritance and its impacts on her life, Nell begins to claim and assert her own poetic voice and form.
In the final few pages, Enright wonderfully pulls all this smart, literary contemplation out from under my feet, "The bird looks me in the eye - he seems to know this is the place to look at a human being - and I look back at him. And with that smart, held connection, the story I made up for him falls away. The bird is no one's servant."
I greatly admire the literary looking of 'The Wren The Wren' and believe it would be a worthy winner of this year's Women's Prize for Fiction.
November 11, 2023
This is a study of a single mother (Carmel) and her twenty-something daughter (Nell). They are the daughter and granddaughter of a stereotypically bibulous, womanizing, Celtic poet, Phil McDaragh, who (years before the story opens) deserted his wife, Carmel’s mother, when she was being treated for breast cancer. Yes, he’s your garden-variety, self-centred, heartless cad. We’re apparently meant to understand that the behaviour of a lout echoes down through the generations. It’s not just Phil’s wife, Terry, who’s hurt by his actions; his daughter and granddaughter are also affected.
Okay, there’s competent enough writing. However, Enright’s occasionally fine prose—not all of it is actually fine—is simply not enough when the characters and their dilemmas are uninteresting. I found Nell’s sexual relationship with a man (Felim)—what she refers to as her “little adventure in abjection”—disturbing to read about, more degradation than I cared to witness. There’s also some terrible animal abuse. I bailed at the halfway point before my resentment of the book reached disproportionate levels. I knew I’d curse myself if I submitted to more of this. What for?
I have no idea what people are swooning over here. I was disappointed by Enright’s latest offering, and I strongly recommend avoiding it . . . unless abjection is your thing.
Okay, there’s competent enough writing. However, Enright’s occasionally fine prose—not all of it is actually fine—is simply not enough when the characters and their dilemmas are uninteresting. I found Nell’s sexual relationship with a man (Felim)—what she refers to as her “little adventure in abjection”—disturbing to read about, more degradation than I cared to witness. There’s also some terrible animal abuse. I bailed at the halfway point before my resentment of the book reached disproportionate levels. I knew I’d curse myself if I submitted to more of this. What for?
I have no idea what people are swooning over here. I was disappointed by Enright’s latest offering, and I strongly recommend avoiding it . . . unless abjection is your thing.
November 22, 2023
At the beginning of the The Wren, The Wren, Anne Enright pulls off a neat act of ventriloquism and channels Sally Rooney so well that I had to keep reminding myself that I was listening to an author of my own generation. (The illusion was enhanced on audio where Aoife Duffin who narrates the 20 something Nell sounds remarkably like another Aoife, Aoife McMahon, who narrates the Sally Rooney books.). It didn't feel derivative to me - although i can see how it might - more like an homage.
I always think that Enright is a great writer on a sentence level - here it is interesting to see that skill deployed in service of a few voices, Nell's, her mother Carmel, and ironically, her abusive grandfather Phil who sets a chain of family trauma in motion and who is (if my ear is to be trusted) a rather sententious and fairly bad poet. It takes a good writer to persuasively channel a bad one (but a bad one with enough ye old Irish flavor to have been acclaimed at one time in the last century) and Enright does that deftly.
There were times in The Wren when I felt a bit adrift without a plot as such, but by the end the cumulative portrait of how trauma (with a lower case not a capital T) flows through a family was quite powerful and worthwile.
I always think that Enright is a great writer on a sentence level - here it is interesting to see that skill deployed in service of a few voices, Nell's, her mother Carmel, and ironically, her abusive grandfather Phil who sets a chain of family trauma in motion and who is (if my ear is to be trusted) a rather sententious and fairly bad poet. It takes a good writer to persuasively channel a bad one (but a bad one with enough ye old Irish flavor to have been acclaimed at one time in the last century) and Enright does that deftly.
There were times in The Wren when I felt a bit adrift without a plot as such, but by the end the cumulative portrait of how trauma (with a lower case not a capital T) flows through a family was quite powerful and worthwile.
June 1, 2023
Anne Enright’s ‘The Wren, The Wren’ is the story of Irish twenty-something, Nell, her mother Carmel, and Carmel’s deceased poet father, Phil. The novel charts the complicated relationship between children and their parents, the generational trauma passed down and the love that endures between them despite this. Enright’s prose is beautiful, and sections read like poetry - even interspersed with actual poems, written by the fictional Phil. The novel as a whole didn’t fully come together for me - each chapter reads as a small story, with plenty of interesting elements that never quite coalesce into something great. Because of this, the novel felt a little overlong and aimless, rather than a truly engaging, cohesive experience. I think others will get more from this than I did, but there are so many sections of really beautiful prose that it almost made up for my frustrations.
dnf
June 19, 2024Not the right book for me, but maybe it's the right book for you?
Check out my Women's Prize Deep Dive on BookTube at Hello, Bookworm.📚🐛
The Wren, the Wren concerns three generations of women whose lives are affected by a family member, a famous Irish poet named Phil MacDaragh, who abandoned his sick wife and two young daughters, an action that has a trickledown effect all the way to his granddaughter.
Each chapter is told from the perspective of a different member of the MacDaragh family, beginning with Phil’s granddaughter Nell, for whom Phil’s poetry is akin to a compass in her life. We’re then introduced to Nell’s mother, Carmel, who feels deeply betrayed by her father’s abandonment.
This is said to be a story of trauma and love, as well as disillusionment. I appreciated the writing style but found it difficult to connect with the characters so it was, sadly, a DNF for me. However, I'm keeping my copy because I can see myself giving this another go in the future.
Check out my Women's Prize Deep Dive on BookTube at Hello, Bookworm.📚🐛
The Wren, the Wren concerns three generations of women whose lives are affected by a family member, a famous Irish poet named Phil MacDaragh, who abandoned his sick wife and two young daughters, an action that has a trickledown effect all the way to his granddaughter.
Each chapter is told from the perspective of a different member of the MacDaragh family, beginning with Phil’s granddaughter Nell, for whom Phil’s poetry is akin to a compass in her life. We’re then introduced to Nell’s mother, Carmel, who feels deeply betrayed by her father’s abandonment.
This is said to be a story of trauma and love, as well as disillusionment. I appreciated the writing style but found it difficult to connect with the characters so it was, sadly, a DNF for me. However, I'm keeping my copy because I can see myself giving this another go in the future.
September 11, 2023
How fortunate I am to be an early reader & Good Reads winner of The Wren, The Wren by award winning author, Anne Enright.
If you love Family Saga, especially one that focuses on multigenerational women (oh how colorful & interesting are the McDaragh characters!) this latest novel by an outstanding Irish writer should be your
next read. Her interpretation and remembrance about a visit to The Uffizi in Florence, Italy brought smiles & tears to my eyes! 5 big stars 🌟 ⭐️🌟⭐️🌟Brava!
If you love Family Saga, especially one that focuses on multigenerational women (oh how colorful & interesting are the McDaragh characters!) this latest novel by an outstanding Irish writer should be your
next read. Her interpretation and remembrance about a visit to The Uffizi in Florence, Italy brought smiles & tears to my eyes! 5 big stars 🌟 ⭐️🌟⭐️🌟Brava!
May 7, 2024
I think I have to give this at least two stars, even though for a large majority of this book I vacillated between feelings of extreme discomfort, confusion, and mild boredom. This was an entirely plotless novel, which doesn’t particularly bother me — but, at times, I felt like Enright was trying too hard to be literary, which makes for an annoying reading experience. Like, the series of texts about the nymph in Carmel’s garden … and the descriptions about Nell’s egg yolk at the beginning, which I guess are supposed to represent her feelings of being trapped in a membrane for all her life … sometimes it’s all just a bit much. Maybe a girl can just be frying an egg in her kitchen, Anne. You know?
However, I really liked some of Enright’s prose, and I thought some of her sentences were insanely beautiful. A recurring theme was how language, and specifically poetic language, can muddy things and alter the past/what is real — and I like how, at the end, Nell stares at a bullfinch and wishes it to be free of language itself. To me, it was an ultimate act of defiance towards the toxic men in her life (i.e. her philandering poet grandpa). Anyway — I’m giving it two stars for that reason alone.
Beware of the graphic animal & child abuse scenes in this one! And the vague, meandering storyline. And the uncomfortably believable male characters …. yikes.
C u next time!
However, I really liked some of Enright’s prose, and I thought some of her sentences were insanely beautiful. A recurring theme was how language, and specifically poetic language, can muddy things and alter the past/what is real — and I like how, at the end, Nell stares at a bullfinch and wishes it to be free of language itself. To me, it was an ultimate act of defiance towards the toxic men in her life (i.e. her philandering poet grandpa). Anyway — I’m giving it two stars for that reason alone.
Beware of the graphic animal & child abuse scenes in this one! And the vague, meandering storyline. And the uncomfortably believable male characters …. yikes.
C u next time!
August 14, 2023
Contemporary, beautifully told multigenerational novel about love and trauma in an Irish family. At the heart of the story is the relationship between Carmel and her daughter Nell. Nell is in her twenties, just finished university and is now writing social media posts for an influencer. She is smart, funny, but also struggling to find her place in the world and to form healthy relationships, with her mother, and with the men she meets.
A wonderfully moving, character driven novel, unsettling but also resilient and highly recommended!
Thank you Vintage UK and Netgalley UK for the ARC.
A wonderfully moving, character driven novel, unsettling but also resilient and highly recommended!
Thank you Vintage UK and Netgalley UK for the ARC.
March 28, 2025
It must be exhausting seeing people with the kind of depth, clarity and empathy Enright does.
November 12, 2023
I have now read four of Anne Enright’s eight novels. I always find them to be beautifully written and full of the idea that trauma in childhood can be understood and somewhat overcome in adulthood. What surprised me in The Wren, the Wren was how well she relayed the realities of life for 21st century young women, while still fleshing out the Irish ways of families.
Another aspect of her books I always enjoy is the intimacy of family life she uses to show societal malfunction as it plays out in her characters. In this novel she covers three generations of women, the wife of a fictional famous Irish poet, the daughter and the granddaughter.
At first the granddaughter, Nell, seems to be the main character and the one with the trauma. As it turns out, Carmel, the daughter, has enough trauma in her past to win the woman with the most trauma award. But when Carmel takes over the narrative, it becomes apparent that the chain of trauma began with the wife of the poet. As the poet would say about his failed marriage: “his wife got sick and the marriage did not survive.” In point of fact, he left his wife while she was sick. And the daughter Carmel was forever after working around that fact.
There is abuse of many forms in the story. Some readers have found it excessive and even I found it disturbing. But, as always, in her beautiful sentences, even in the poems of the grandfather which must have been written by Anne herself, the story of how trauma is passed on and how a bright young woman named Nell works her way out of and through it becomes a beautiful thing.
Another aspect of her books I always enjoy is the intimacy of family life she uses to show societal malfunction as it plays out in her characters. In this novel she covers three generations of women, the wife of a fictional famous Irish poet, the daughter and the granddaughter.
At first the granddaughter, Nell, seems to be the main character and the one with the trauma. As it turns out, Carmel, the daughter, has enough trauma in her past to win the woman with the most trauma award. But when Carmel takes over the narrative, it becomes apparent that the chain of trauma began with the wife of the poet. As the poet would say about his failed marriage: “his wife got sick and the marriage did not survive.” In point of fact, he left his wife while she was sick. And the daughter Carmel was forever after working around that fact.
There is abuse of many forms in the story. Some readers have found it excessive and even I found it disturbing. But, as always, in her beautiful sentences, even in the poems of the grandfather which must have been written by Anne herself, the story of how trauma is passed on and how a bright young woman named Nell works her way out of and through it becomes a beautiful thing.
September 8, 2024
Adding Anne Enright to the list of authors I need to read more of. I can’t say that Nell’s chapters always worked for me, but I loved Carmel’s chapters and thought her pov was the best executed. I enjoyed reading this exploration of a man behaving badly, his “art” excusing his bad behavior (at least in the public’s eyes), and the effects of his choices on the women in (and out) of his life. Better yet that we chiefly see all of this through the eyes of two of these women instead of him. Damn this writing is sharp and cutting with a lot of beauty throughout.
November 30, 2024
The Wren, The Wren, tells of three generations of the McDaragh family. The first we meet is Nell, daughter of the second, Carmel, both of whom tell us of their lives. The third generation is that of Carmel’s parents, mother Terry and father (poet) Phil. The women are united in the tightness of their bonds, Terry to Carmel and Carmel to Nell. They also have been united by their experiences of abandonment, Terry and Carmel by husband and father and Nell by failed partner and the stories of Phil.
In this novel of reassessment, Nell and Carmel are trying to make sense of their individual and family past in order to move on. One of the major questions for each is just who is Phil McDaragh? He is apparently a famous poet in Ireland, perhaps beyond, but to his daughter he’s the man who walked away when his wife got sick but also wrote a poem dedicated to Carmel. To Nell, Phill is an unknown she’s heard of as a poet but wants to know as a person, the missing father/grandfather.
There are times this makes for difficult reading about some difficult relationships, but often the prose sings. I believe this is my second book read from Enright, after The Green Road. I will definitely be reading more.
In this novel of reassessment, Nell and Carmel are trying to make sense of their individual and family past in order to move on. One of the major questions for each is just who is Phil McDaragh? He is apparently a famous poet in Ireland, perhaps beyond, but to his daughter he’s the man who walked away when his wife got sick but also wrote a poem dedicated to Carmel. To Nell, Phill is an unknown she’s heard of as a poet but wants to know as a person, the missing father/grandfather.
There are times this makes for difficult reading about some difficult relationships, but often the prose sings. I believe this is my second book read from Enright, after The Green Road. I will definitely be reading more.
September 18, 2023
I’ve come to Enright quite late but she’s a wonderful story teller with some great dialogue.
March 31, 2024
Best on Ground 2024.
November 7, 2023
DNF….I couldn’t get into it, unlikable characters & a drawn out choppy writing style
October 17, 2023
Although I am usually partial to books set in Ireland, this one left me cold. It's the story of a poet who leaves his family and a story of the family left behind. The boredom, the boredom.
April 8, 2025
This book is plotless even by my standards… my standards being that while plot is nice to have, it’s by no means necessary. It wasn’t necessary here, though I couldn’t help feeling that… a little bit would have been nice to have.
Instead we have character: two of them, eventually three of them.
We have Nell, who lives in the hellhole that is being young and dating in the modern world. Nell is in love with Felim, and though it’s hard to know why, it’s nonetheless completely believable. Enright wrote me well into that mid-twenties headspace where suddenly the worst option is the best, or only, option. “Nell,” I wanted to declare. “It’ll be okay. Better just not to bother with this asshole. Just read some books and see your friends and wait for something better to come along.”
My words fell by the wayside.
Meanwhile, Nell’s mother Carmel is an empty-nester. She was also a single mother, so there’s little to distract her besides keeping the house spick and span, and worrying in a niggling way about her daughter, who is caught in that mid-twenties spiral. And think, sometimes, about her deceased and absent father.
Because behind these somewhat lost women is an oversized man, the poet Phil McDaragh. His star—nature poetry, lyrical translations from the Irish, and abandoning wives when they fall terminally ill—is on the wane, but the beauty of his verse still transfixes his grand-daughter, and the pain of his abandonment still stunts his daughter.
What Enright does, between her usual excellent writing, is recreate his poems. And these serve to redeem Phil to the reader, even as the book finally takes the shine off him in the eyes of his family.
The poems are simply lovely:
I am Brock…
… My father had handsome stripes,
my mother was a ghost badger, very beautiful.
The thing to do with dogs, she told me,
is clamp down on the snout, crossways.
Let the dog do the work
of getting away.
I am Brock, I swim in earth
I go through.
(You can see a selection of the poems in The London Review of Books—Six poems by Phil McDaragh. But yes, he’s a fictional character).
The poetry is lovely. Is it enough of a legacy, and is it enough for Carmel and Nell?
Instead we have character: two of them, eventually three of them.
We have Nell, who lives in the hellhole that is being young and dating in the modern world. Nell is in love with Felim, and though it’s hard to know why, it’s nonetheless completely believable. Enright wrote me well into that mid-twenties headspace where suddenly the worst option is the best, or only, option. “Nell,” I wanted to declare. “It’ll be okay. Better just not to bother with this asshole. Just read some books and see your friends and wait for something better to come along.”
My words fell by the wayside.
Meanwhile, Nell’s mother Carmel is an empty-nester. She was also a single mother, so there’s little to distract her besides keeping the house spick and span, and worrying in a niggling way about her daughter, who is caught in that mid-twenties spiral. And think, sometimes, about her deceased and absent father.
Because behind these somewhat lost women is an oversized man, the poet Phil McDaragh. His star—nature poetry, lyrical translations from the Irish, and abandoning wives when they fall terminally ill—is on the wane, but the beauty of his verse still transfixes his grand-daughter, and the pain of his abandonment still stunts his daughter.
What Enright does, between her usual excellent writing, is recreate his poems. And these serve to redeem Phil to the reader, even as the book finally takes the shine off him in the eyes of his family.
The poems are simply lovely:
I am Brock…
… My father had handsome stripes,
my mother was a ghost badger, very beautiful.
The thing to do with dogs, she told me,
is clamp down on the snout, crossways.
Let the dog do the work
of getting away.
I am Brock, I swim in earth
I go through.
(You can see a selection of the poems in The London Review of Books—Six poems by Phil McDaragh. But yes, he’s a fictional character).
The poetry is lovely. Is it enough of a legacy, and is it enough for Carmel and Nell?
December 22, 2023
This is the kind of mother-daughter narrative I crave – complex, spiky, nuanced, poetic, profound (unlike that orher book so many readers loved and I found saccharine and sentimental). Here, two lives are intertwined in ways that celebrate the resilience of women and the deep, messy love between mothers and daughters. Enright is a wonderful writer at the best of times, here she’s transcendent. Her finest work to date without question. Just give her the Booker again now.
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