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That They May Face the Rising Sun
From the very opening pages, we see many memorable characters as they move about the Ruttledges, who have come from London home to Ireland in search of a different life. There is John Quinn, who will stop at nothing to ensure a flow of women; Johnny, who left for England twenty years before in pursuit of love; and Jimmy Joe McKiernan, head of the IRA, both auctioneer and undertaker. The gentle Jamesie and his wife Mary embody the spirit of the place. They have never left the lake but know everything that ever stirred or moved there. The drama of a year in the lives of these and many other characters unfolds through the action, the rituals of work, religious observances and play. With deceptive simplicity, by the novel's close we feel that we have been introduced to a complete representation of existence. An enclosed world has been transformed into an Everywhere.
298 pages, Hardcover
Published January 1, 2002
About the author
John McGahern
58 books478 followersMcGahern began his career as a schoolteacher at Scoil Eoin Báiste (Belgrove) primary school in Clontarf, Ireland, where, for a period, he taught the eminent academic Declan Kiberd before turning to writing full-time. McGahern's second novel 'The Dark' was banned in Ireland for its alleged pornographic content and implied clerical sexual abuse. In the controversy over this he was forced to resign his teaching post. He subsequently moved to England where he worked in a variety of jobs before returning to Ireland to live and work on a small farm in Fenagh in County Leitrim, located halfway between Ballinamore and Mohill. His third novel 'Amongst Women' was shortlisted for the 1990 Man Booker Prize.
He died from cancer in Dublin on March 30, 2006.
He died from cancer in Dublin on March 30, 2006.
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June 29, 2009I really wish I could enjoy this book, but it's driving me crazy. The slow pace, the stupid characters (by which I don't mean that the characters are badly done but that stupidity is part of their nature), the constant use of the passive voice, the sort of skaz (I don't know if I'm using this term correctly) in the narrative... it all combines to make an extremely annoying book.
I see exactly what McGahern's doing (or I think I see it) and kudos to him, because it's brilliant. It is a continuous stream of anecdotes, an exercise in the minutiae of characterisation and plot. It describes a year in the life of Joe and Kate Ruttledge and their neighbours. We meet the spine-chillingly horrid John Quinn, we hear the sad tale of Johnny, we learn about Bill Evans' unhappy childhood... it's all fascinating and beautiful, in its small, humble way. The prose mimics the slowness of life in a place where little happens, but everything that happens is news. It's a beautiful depiction of a place and an era, though it's not immediately clear to what era it belongs.
But I'm too impatient, and I can't like it. I'm constantly pressed for time at the moment, and I am unable to slip into the contemplative, relaxed state that I need to read this book. I thrive on tension, adrenaline, and that is something that has nothing to do with this wonderful book. I may finish it... one day.
I see exactly what McGahern's doing (or I think I see it) and kudos to him, because it's brilliant. It is a continuous stream of anecdotes, an exercise in the minutiae of characterisation and plot. It describes a year in the life of Joe and Kate Ruttledge and their neighbours. We meet the spine-chillingly horrid John Quinn, we hear the sad tale of Johnny, we learn about Bill Evans' unhappy childhood... it's all fascinating and beautiful, in its small, humble way. The prose mimics the slowness of life in a place where little happens, but everything that happens is news. It's a beautiful depiction of a place and an era, though it's not immediately clear to what era it belongs.
But I'm too impatient, and I can't like it. I'm constantly pressed for time at the moment, and I am unable to slip into the contemplative, relaxed state that I need to read this book. I thrive on tension, adrenaline, and that is something that has nothing to do with this wonderful book. I may finish it... one day.
May 27, 2016
That They May Face the Rising Sun. This was a most delightful read. Not a story with a plot but a story of life, seasons passing, the years cycle frames their lives. The book is set in rural part of Ireland and is a portrait of a life in a rural lakeside community. It's the author's own place, sparsely populated corner of County Leitrim. Nothing much really happens yet it is full; haymaking, lambing, Monaghan Day, a wake. The story has repeating episodes of food, drink, the grey heron, swans, black cat and dogs. The Lake is one of the book's greatest character. This is a comfortable read and has less violence that Amongst Women but it is still there on the edge with John and the IRA man. A beautiful story set sometime after the war and modernization just starting to show up in the rural community with the telephone poles.
The title of this book also has great significance and poignancy.
There are so many great passages in this book and I am only adding this one to my review but really, there is so many more..."completely alone though a part of the crowd, Mary stood mutely gazing on her son and his wife as if in wonderment how so much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections; it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole these scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed?"
The title of this book also has great significance and poignancy.
There are so many great passages in this book and I am only adding this one to my review but really, there is so many more..."completely alone though a part of the crowd, Mary stood mutely gazing on her son and his wife as if in wonderment how so much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections; it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole these scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed?"
September 10, 2024
A 4.5 star read for sure. I loved this book.
The characters were so warm and likeable - I definitely laughed out loud at Jamesie's one liners on more than one occasion. McGahern's portrayal of rural Ireland is stunning with small events such as the death of a black sheep taking on profound meaning.
One of McGahern's strengths is his ability to lure the reader into a false sense of calm with his pastoral reflections and disarm them moments later with the darkness that lurks underneath. The tale of John Quinn's first wedding jumps to mind here as a figure of ridicule is revealed to have a far darker and malevolent side.
Such an easy but emotive read. Highly recommended.
The characters were so warm and likeable - I definitely laughed out loud at Jamesie's one liners on more than one occasion. McGahern's portrayal of rural Ireland is stunning with small events such as the death of a black sheep taking on profound meaning.
One of McGahern's strengths is his ability to lure the reader into a false sense of calm with his pastoral reflections and disarm them moments later with the darkness that lurks underneath. The tale of John Quinn's first wedding jumps to mind here as a figure of ridicule is revealed to have a far darker and malevolent side.
Such an easy but emotive read. Highly recommended.
October 13, 2016
I admired this book. I can't say that I was enthralled by it, but I'm really struggling to accept how impressed by it I am despite that.
The book is set in rural Ireland, Longford as it happens but it could just as easily be in most other counties without a major metropolitan centre within striking distance. Exact setting is unimportant, not because McGahern is uninterested by the surroundings that he so delicately describes but, simply because any Irish person could read this novel and think of a place closer to their own home where the exact same chain of events could be played out. (Translations of McGahern's novels apparently do quite well in France so maybe it's not even unique to Ireland that such a landscape could exist.) Day and date are unimportant fixtures of the characters' calendars. They live day-to-day by the list of jobs that need doing, and if their jobs are done then they'll see if anyone else needs a hand. It's a simple share and share alike where people get by. They don't have much but they're certainly not found wanting either.
Time moves slowly by the lake outside the town. Sometimes one questions if it moves at all. The characters' lives progress, certainly, but time seems to have no bearing here. McGahern quite purposefully never mentions the date and that has a strange effect. So much of what happens in this book belongs to De Valera's rural Ireland of the fifties and sixties, yet every so often a subtle yet shocking reminder is given that this is not at all the fifties but rather the eighties (at least). The impression given is that of a land that time forgot. A place with no phones while the places they visit have computers. The introduction every once in a while of a piece of technological modernity is genuinely startling, a shocking anachronism that leaves you questioning how it is that people still find themselves living in such a way, but the manner in which their stories are told also leaves you to wonder if it's really they who are missing out... After all, our point of view Joe Ruttledge clearly left behind such progress for the entirely different world he now inhabits.
There's a casual brutality about this book that impressed me. Not the nihilistic brand of casual brutality found in horror films where people commit mass murder unperturbed; that's easily done. This is real. There's the village "characters", the ones who, in a place where secret-keeping is impossible, have done things that are truly reprehensible, but the village has its mechanisms. Like anywhere in rural Ireland, things are "dealt with", after a fashion. That might mean turning a blind eye to the deed, that might mean turning a blind eye to the reprisal for the deed, it might mean that people turn their backs when that person comes into the pub. The results are not always satisfactory, and in some cases are downright permissive, but they contribute to the realism. All is not rosy as in the Ruttledge's garden. This village has its dark secrets the same as any other. More brutal again are the glimpses of death within the pages. This is not a spoiler. The book never becomes Midsommer Murders. It is simply impossible to work on a farm without interacting with death. The novel accepts that and looks at it with the same observing eye as it looks at everything else. Different characters react to different deaths in different ways. It all feeds into how undeniably real and vivid the whole reading experience is.
What impressed me about That They May Face the Rising Sun, with a sense of awe and marvel that grew as I read, is simply its realness. Many people will call this novel dull and uninteresting and, to a large extent, they're not wrong. Nothing much happens. Reading this book is the (arguably) labour-free version of spending a few months on a farm somewhere in the West of Ireland. The pace is a far cry below funereal. The book has no denouement, no exposition - complication - resolution, in short it is almost entirely lacking in drama. The book simply is, and that's not for everyone. I'm not even sure if it was "for me". What may well go unnoticed though is just how hard it is to actually create a book that just "is". From the recesses of his mind John McGahern has pulled forth a fully-formed microcosm of rural Ireland that is entirely real. At no moment in this novel are you conscious of the fact that you are reading a novel written by a person. It's considerably easier to liken it to opening a window into someone else's life. It's only with great difficulty after reading the book that you can convince yourself that this village isn't actually there, that the people living in it don't actually exist, that the things you read didn't actually happen out there somewhere, because they could. To illustrate just how masterfully real the book is, while on the phone I found myself saying "Do you know what I never knew about Kate?" only to remember that Kate is a fictional character. In a book. That the person on the other end of the phone hasn't read. I was so convinced by the characters that I actually wanted to share their news on the phone as if it was a story to tell to fill a gap in a conversation! From a writing standpoint, that is nothing short of exemplary.
That They May Face the Rising Sun is a glacier of a book. It seems to take eons for anything to happen but the final results are undeniably significant. It's long and drawn out and many won't have the patience. There's no big reward at the end, but as a piece of writing it's exceptional.
The book is set in rural Ireland, Longford as it happens but it could just as easily be in most other counties without a major metropolitan centre within striking distance. Exact setting is unimportant, not because McGahern is uninterested by the surroundings that he so delicately describes but, simply because any Irish person could read this novel and think of a place closer to their own home where the exact same chain of events could be played out. (Translations of McGahern's novels apparently do quite well in France so maybe it's not even unique to Ireland that such a landscape could exist.) Day and date are unimportant fixtures of the characters' calendars. They live day-to-day by the list of jobs that need doing, and if their jobs are done then they'll see if anyone else needs a hand. It's a simple share and share alike where people get by. They don't have much but they're certainly not found wanting either.
Time moves slowly by the lake outside the town. Sometimes one questions if it moves at all. The characters' lives progress, certainly, but time seems to have no bearing here. McGahern quite purposefully never mentions the date and that has a strange effect. So much of what happens in this book belongs to De Valera's rural Ireland of the fifties and sixties, yet every so often a subtle yet shocking reminder is given that this is not at all the fifties but rather the eighties (at least). The impression given is that of a land that time forgot. A place with no phones while the places they visit have computers. The introduction every once in a while of a piece of technological modernity is genuinely startling, a shocking anachronism that leaves you questioning how it is that people still find themselves living in such a way, but the manner in which their stories are told also leaves you to wonder if it's really they who are missing out... After all, our point of view Joe Ruttledge clearly left behind such progress for the entirely different world he now inhabits.
There's a casual brutality about this book that impressed me. Not the nihilistic brand of casual brutality found in horror films where people commit mass murder unperturbed; that's easily done. This is real. There's the village "characters", the ones who, in a place where secret-keeping is impossible, have done things that are truly reprehensible, but the village has its mechanisms. Like anywhere in rural Ireland, things are "dealt with", after a fashion. That might mean turning a blind eye to the deed, that might mean turning a blind eye to the reprisal for the deed, it might mean that people turn their backs when that person comes into the pub. The results are not always satisfactory, and in some cases are downright permissive, but they contribute to the realism. All is not rosy as in the Ruttledge's garden. This village has its dark secrets the same as any other. More brutal again are the glimpses of death within the pages. This is not a spoiler. The book never becomes Midsommer Murders. It is simply impossible to work on a farm without interacting with death. The novel accepts that and looks at it with the same observing eye as it looks at everything else. Different characters react to different deaths in different ways. It all feeds into how undeniably real and vivid the whole reading experience is.
What impressed me about That They May Face the Rising Sun, with a sense of awe and marvel that grew as I read, is simply its realness. Many people will call this novel dull and uninteresting and, to a large extent, they're not wrong. Nothing much happens. Reading this book is the (arguably) labour-free version of spending a few months on a farm somewhere in the West of Ireland. The pace is a far cry below funereal. The book has no denouement, no exposition - complication - resolution, in short it is almost entirely lacking in drama. The book simply is, and that's not for everyone. I'm not even sure if it was "for me". What may well go unnoticed though is just how hard it is to actually create a book that just "is". From the recesses of his mind John McGahern has pulled forth a fully-formed microcosm of rural Ireland that is entirely real. At no moment in this novel are you conscious of the fact that you are reading a novel written by a person. It's considerably easier to liken it to opening a window into someone else's life. It's only with great difficulty after reading the book that you can convince yourself that this village isn't actually there, that the people living in it don't actually exist, that the things you read didn't actually happen out there somewhere, because they could. To illustrate just how masterfully real the book is, while on the phone I found myself saying "Do you know what I never knew about Kate?" only to remember that Kate is a fictional character. In a book. That the person on the other end of the phone hasn't read. I was so convinced by the characters that I actually wanted to share their news on the phone as if it was a story to tell to fill a gap in a conversation! From a writing standpoint, that is nothing short of exemplary.
That They May Face the Rising Sun is a glacier of a book. It seems to take eons for anything to happen but the final results are undeniably significant. It's long and drawn out and many won't have the patience. There's no big reward at the end, but as a piece of writing it's exceptional.
June 29, 2026
A beautiful meditation of a book - and one I know I’ll come back to in different seasons of life.
November 23, 2023
Wonderfully evocative book of rural Irish life set in a period perhaps 70's 80's. Beautifully developed characters with no real plot, the book stands on it's description of llife over a period of 1 year. A masterpiece of beautiful writing.
July 6, 2026
A deceptively simple story that depicts an ordinary year in the lives of a couple, relocated to rural Ireland from London. The setting is beautifully portrayed and the sense of community in the relative seclusion of their new environment is palpable. There's no real linear narrative, rather the experience of the reader is one of sudden immersion in a particular place, time and way of life and you can't help but feel a little bereft when it ends. A vivid portrayal of the magnificence of the natural world and the beauty of the changing seasons. McGahern is an acute observer of human life and all it's foibles- and the nature and experience of concern, care and love. Full of universal truths, a wonderfully relatable novel that is a pure pleasure.
"There are no truths more hurtful than those we see as partly true."
"They say we think the birds are singing when they are only crying 'this is mine' out of their separate territories."
"I couldn't bear to be in the same room with him. Very few people have that effect. I was wondering if he was real while he was talking."
"Do you think you will ever make that drawing you do pay? I don't think so Patrick. Why do you keep at it, then, girl? It brings what I see closer."
"She was beginning to understand that to be without anxiety was to be without love and that it could not be shared."
"There are times when the truth is the wrong thing."
"He was so unbothered and so much himself that people began to take to him in the end. Before we left I saw him get all sorts of looks- people laughing and amused- but also attracted. People are funny. They look down from all sorts of heights and then if the looking down has no effect they get unsure."
"People we know come and go in our minds whether they are here or in England or alive or dead."
"... So much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections: it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole those scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed? There is only flesh."
"The words hung in the air a moment without meeting agreement or disagreement: it was as if they both knew secretly that there was no certainty as to what constituted the happiness or unhappiness of another."
"Have you noticed how the journey home always seems to go faster?... Of course, Jamesie answered readily. You never know rightly what you are facing into when you're setting out. You always know the way home."
"What do we have without life? What does love become but care?"
"People get set in their ways. They can't manage to fit together any more."
"There are no truths more hurtful than those we see as partly true."
"They say we think the birds are singing when they are only crying 'this is mine' out of their separate territories."
"I couldn't bear to be in the same room with him. Very few people have that effect. I was wondering if he was real while he was talking."
"Do you think you will ever make that drawing you do pay? I don't think so Patrick. Why do you keep at it, then, girl? It brings what I see closer."
"She was beginning to understand that to be without anxiety was to be without love and that it could not be shared."
"There are times when the truth is the wrong thing."
"He was so unbothered and so much himself that people began to take to him in the end. Before we left I saw him get all sorts of looks- people laughing and amused- but also attracted. People are funny. They look down from all sorts of heights and then if the looking down has no effect they get unsure."
"People we know come and go in our minds whether they are here or in England or alive or dead."
"... So much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections: it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole those scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed? There is only flesh."
"The words hung in the air a moment without meeting agreement or disagreement: it was as if they both knew secretly that there was no certainty as to what constituted the happiness or unhappiness of another."
"Have you noticed how the journey home always seems to go faster?... Of course, Jamesie answered readily. You never know rightly what you are facing into when you're setting out. You always know the way home."
"What do we have without life? What does love become but care?"
"People get set in their ways. They can't manage to fit together any more."
September 28, 2017
Strangely beguiling and deceptively mellow novel of Irish country life. The Ruttledges have moved to a village beside a lake and their interactions with their neighbours form the bulk of the story. It isn't in truth much of a story, but the characters are singularly sympathetic: The Shah - local businessman and curmudgeon, James & Mary, kindly, nosey gossips, Patrick Ryan - the builder, who spends over a year failing to finish putting a roof on a shed, and even John Quinn - a charmer, forcing a succession of women to be humiliated at his hands. Universal themes of life, death and renewal are subtly woven into the novel, but so is the festering sectarian division that cannot be ignored as long as annual marches commemorate a bloody ambush. The warmth, the welcome and the ever-present hospitality of this bucolic life is the most lasting memory though.
March 27, 2024
“The days were quiet. They did not feel particularly quiet or happy but through them ran the sense, like an underground river, that there would come a time when these days would be looked back on as happiness, all that life could give of contentment and peace.”
John McGahern, el gran escriptor de la quotidianitat. El vaig descobrir a Irlanda i ara és dels meus autors preferits. Aquest m'ha agradat encara més que Amongs Women.
Diu "happiness could not be sought or worried into being, or even fully grasped; it should be allowed its own slow pace so that it passes unnoticed, if it ever comes at all", la vida per mi és això.
John McGahern, el gran escriptor de la quotidianitat. El vaig descobrir a Irlanda i ara és dels meus autors preferits. Aquest m'ha agradat encara més que Amongs Women.
Diu "happiness could not be sought or worried into being, or even fully grasped; it should be allowed its own slow pace so that it passes unnoticed, if it ever comes at all", la vida per mi és això.
June 10, 2024
For a man to bang out a book like this at the age of 70 is absolutely obscene stuff. Most probably my book of the year thus far and having read all of JMcG’s prose works now up there with The Dark for his crowning achievement. 314 pages with no chapter breaks and a complete non-plot and yet the sheer beauty of it is so striking that you can’t put it down. Little narrative threads flicker in and out as an incredible pattern of variation and repetition builds up. Ruttledge might stretch some credibility with how much of a goody two-shoes he is but given the unremitting bleakness of the rest of his canon I’ll let JMcG off
September 8, 2015
I've read this twice now, and both times been saddened to finish. Different from McGahern's other novels, every word of this is rich, not a word used lightly. This novel is a tribute to simplicity, the everyday, honoring those who pass through life without fanfare or outward greatness.
He shows the strength of friendship and community, and the ties that ritual bind. In portraying the normal, McGahern quietly wraps a cloak of acceptance around the reader of our unspectacular place in life, and it's cyclical never ending nature.
His greatest work, and for me, the finest Irish novel crafted.
He shows the strength of friendship and community, and the ties that ritual bind. In portraying the normal, McGahern quietly wraps a cloak of acceptance around the reader of our unspectacular place in life, and it's cyclical never ending nature.
His greatest work, and for me, the finest Irish novel crafted.
October 3, 2023
Simply marvelous.
The Kindle version is a bit of a travesty: this is one long narrative without chapters, but with the separate sections of the (cyclical) narrative separated by blank lines. In the Faber & Faber Kindle version, all those blank lines have disappeared. The only way you can make out the section divisions if you encounter an unindented new paragraph now and again -- and you know that's where the blank line should have been. Very sloppy publishing.
The Kindle version is a bit of a travesty: this is one long narrative without chapters, but with the separate sections of the (cyclical) narrative separated by blank lines. In the Faber & Faber Kindle version, all those blank lines have disappeared. The only way you can make out the section divisions if you encounter an unindented new paragraph now and again -- and you know that's where the blank line should have been. Very sloppy publishing.
April 26, 2026
4.5⭐
A genuine literary *artist*
What's it about? It's about what life's about. Short on plot, long on rendering the ordinary as esoterica. Sublime observation and illustrious description of setting - simplicity but not simple. The pleasure of reading is distinct here, deep truths come to the surface.
A genuine literary *artist*
What's it about? It's about what life's about. Short on plot, long on rendering the ordinary as esoterica. Sublime observation and illustrious description of setting - simplicity but not simple. The pleasure of reading is distinct here, deep truths come to the surface.
January 31, 2025
Although nothing happens, like at all, this is still such a beautiful novel that truly reflects Irish life in such an accurate manner. The language McGahern employs to create such gorgeous passages of descriptive prose is absolutely unmatched.
November 15, 2025
Slow and peaceful. Immersion in a small village in Ireland for one year
November 20, 2025
“I have decided, I have decided after serious deliberation that I never liked yous anyhow.”
May 18, 2025
Four (dozen or so) whiskeys and a funeral.
And I loved it. I'll be honest: I almost gave up on this, before I even started. I read the blurb ...
In passages of beauty and truth, the drama of a year in their lives and those of the memorable characters that move about them unfolds through the action, the rituals of work, religious observances and play.
... and I was very tempted to run for the hills. It sounded like it would be precious (in a very bad way) and twee. Smug, self-indulgent and (ugh) poetical (again, not in a good way).
BUT, this was recommended by a good friend, who knows I love all things Ireland. A good friend who is grounded, and not (I think) very "poetical" for the sake of being poetical. I resisted the temptation to return it to the library, unopened (I'd paid 90p to reserve it, after all!!), and thought, I'll give it 20,30 pages and then I'm out. Honour satisfied. I could tell Good Friend, in all honesty, it wasn't for me.
I read 20 pages. And I was hooked. Hooked, addicted. Actively resented anything (housework, husband, friends, social engagements) that took me away from this book. It's not a "light read" (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and the wee donkey, no ...), but I read in in less than a week, and it only took that long because I had to eat. And sleep, occasionally. And feign interest in conversations with my husband. (He understands .... )
First of all, 20 pages in, a revelation came to me: this book is HILARIOUS. Forget all the blather about beauty and truth, and deceptive simplicity, and all that: the story of one year in the lives of Joe and Kate Ruttledge, their smallholding on the little lake in the Midlands of Ireland, their friends and neighbours IS A HOOT. It's as if two ordinary people, earnest and good natured, anxious to escape the grind of their lives in London, find themselves in A Very Special Episode of Father Ted, with Father Ted's cast of gargoyles and innocents, the plotters and the gulls. Through the Ruttledge's kitchen come a parade of characters: parents and damaged children, lovers and monsters. Believers and doubters, liars and thieves. Good-hearted people who would give you the shirt off their back, and smooth talkers who would take the eye out of your head. Each and every one with a story, and every one of them able to talk the hind leg off a donkey. Even at the sad, difficult bits (and, believe me, there ARE sad difficult bits, and evil too), there was deep, dark humour, and wit, and a clear sense of the real tempo of life.
I recognised my family in this, and their stories, and heard their voices. When I was growing up, my mother and grandmother would refer to anyone badly behaved as an "amathon" (as I heard it). I was in high school when I learned that this wasn't an English word at all, but Irish. So imagine my delight when, on page 96 of my edition, the Ruttledge's neighbour Mary jokingly says of her husband, "Pay no heed to yon omadhoun. He'd disgrace a holy saint." The first time I have ever seen the word (properly spelled, I assume) in print ... and I heard my mother's voice.
I wanted to keep reading to find out how their stories played out, over this single year that McGahern has chosen to chronicle. Although we are warned, there are no neat endings, no closure, for the living or the dead.
An X was drawn through each day of every month until October was reached. On the twenty-second of October the march of Xs across the days came to a stop. The twenty-third of October was the first clear day and all the remaining days of the years were unmarked. 'That was the day he died,' Jimmy Joe said
As arbitrary as the Xs on a dead man's calendar, we join the stories, and we leave them, and we don't know how it will really end. But, like life itself, we want to keep reading.
Patrick Ryan stood at the door and shouted 'Up us all! Up Ceannabo!'
"May we never die and down with the begrudgers!" they chorused back and pounded their glasses on the table
PS -- beautiful, beautiful title. I think any American reader who had to buy it under the alternative title should sue ....
And I loved it. I'll be honest: I almost gave up on this, before I even started. I read the blurb ...
In passages of beauty and truth, the drama of a year in their lives and those of the memorable characters that move about them unfolds through the action, the rituals of work, religious observances and play.
... and I was very tempted to run for the hills. It sounded like it would be precious (in a very bad way) and twee. Smug, self-indulgent and (ugh) poetical (again, not in a good way).
BUT, this was recommended by a good friend, who knows I love all things Ireland. A good friend who is grounded, and not (I think) very "poetical" for the sake of being poetical. I resisted the temptation to return it to the library, unopened (I'd paid 90p to reserve it, after all!!), and thought, I'll give it 20,30 pages and then I'm out. Honour satisfied. I could tell Good Friend, in all honesty, it wasn't for me.
I read 20 pages. And I was hooked. Hooked, addicted. Actively resented anything (housework, husband, friends, social engagements) that took me away from this book. It's not a "light read" (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and the wee donkey, no ...), but I read in in less than a week, and it only took that long because I had to eat. And sleep, occasionally. And feign interest in conversations with my husband. (He understands .... )
First of all, 20 pages in, a revelation came to me: this book is HILARIOUS. Forget all the blather about beauty and truth, and deceptive simplicity, and all that: the story of one year in the lives of Joe and Kate Ruttledge, their smallholding on the little lake in the Midlands of Ireland, their friends and neighbours IS A HOOT. It's as if two ordinary people, earnest and good natured, anxious to escape the grind of their lives in London, find themselves in A Very Special Episode of Father Ted, with Father Ted's cast of gargoyles and innocents, the plotters and the gulls. Through the Ruttledge's kitchen come a parade of characters: parents and damaged children, lovers and monsters. Believers and doubters, liars and thieves. Good-hearted people who would give you the shirt off their back, and smooth talkers who would take the eye out of your head. Each and every one with a story, and every one of them able to talk the hind leg off a donkey. Even at the sad, difficult bits (and, believe me, there ARE sad difficult bits, and evil too), there was deep, dark humour, and wit, and a clear sense of the real tempo of life.
I recognised my family in this, and their stories, and heard their voices. When I was growing up, my mother and grandmother would refer to anyone badly behaved as an "amathon" (as I heard it). I was in high school when I learned that this wasn't an English word at all, but Irish. So imagine my delight when, on page 96 of my edition, the Ruttledge's neighbour Mary jokingly says of her husband, "Pay no heed to yon omadhoun. He'd disgrace a holy saint." The first time I have ever seen the word (properly spelled, I assume) in print ... and I heard my mother's voice.
I wanted to keep reading to find out how their stories played out, over this single year that McGahern has chosen to chronicle. Although we are warned, there are no neat endings, no closure, for the living or the dead.
An X was drawn through each day of every month until October was reached. On the twenty-second of October the march of Xs across the days came to a stop. The twenty-third of October was the first clear day and all the remaining days of the years were unmarked. 'That was the day he died,' Jimmy Joe said
As arbitrary as the Xs on a dead man's calendar, we join the stories, and we leave them, and we don't know how it will really end. But, like life itself, we want to keep reading.
Patrick Ryan stood at the door and shouted 'Up us all! Up Ceannabo!'
"May we never die and down with the begrudgers!" they chorused back and pounded their glasses on the table
PS -- beautiful, beautiful title. I think any American reader who had to buy it under the alternative title should sue ....
November 12, 2025
I don't exactly know why I've read this book again. There was something pulling me towards it that I can't quite place my finger on - but I'm sure you've felt the same way before about a certain book. That said, I didn't remember much except that there didn't happen a lot between the first and the last page. Of course that isn't exactly true, but the things that happen are of no significance to anyone outside our protagonists and even to the protagonists most of the things that happen (yet not all!) are minor. If this sounds boring, let me tell you it isn't. McGahern takes us along a slice of life of the Ruttledges, a middle-aged couple, who moved from London to rural Ireland to live on a small farmstead of their own. But, contrary to what you now might think, the move and all the differences between these two lives isn't what this story is about as it only starts after they are already familiar with all their neighbors. What the novel is about is their life (for about a year) and all their interactions with and stories about the people they know and love (be it friends, neighbors or others).
What stood out to me reading the book this time is, that it is essentially a story about growing up, with everything - beautiful and ugly - that comes with it. We get to meet people with small and big numbers attached to their backs. People who are just setting foot in the world and others who are leaving it. One deeply moving passage, the one that made me first notice the theme (if you want to call it that), prompted me to put the book down for a moment. It plays after someone beloved by the Shah [Joe Ruttledge's uncle] died where he tells, in a passage entirely unlike him, Joe the following: "The rain comes down. Grass grows. Children get old," the Shah said suddenly. "That's it. We all know. We know full well and can't even whisper it out loud. We know in spite of them."
I'm also glad to tell you that this isn't one of those books, usually written by city-dwellers, that just romanticize life in the country. Of course, it too, has its cheesy (albeit beautiful) moments, but these are just flourish and not the entire point of the book.
The only thing I didn't entirely get were the societal tensions, that simmered in the background at times. But that's just because I don't know much about the internal Irish conflicts - I'll certainly come back again once I know a bit more. Still, my ignorance didn't negatively impact the reading experience as it is just something that really only takes center stage in one short passage of the book.
This is the perfect read for in between books - but also for when you feel stressed and don't want to read something difficult or nerve-raking, or for when you don't know what to read next and just happen to think of this book. Despite its premise (maybe) sounding boring on paper, it isn't and in the end makes you want to read more about people whose life's are, in the grand scheme of things, rather uneventful.
What stood out to me reading the book this time is, that it is essentially a story about growing up, with everything - beautiful and ugly - that comes with it. We get to meet people with small and big numbers attached to their backs. People who are just setting foot in the world and others who are leaving it. One deeply moving passage, the one that made me first notice the theme (if you want to call it that), prompted me to put the book down for a moment. It plays after someone beloved by the Shah [Joe Ruttledge's uncle] died where he tells, in a passage entirely unlike him, Joe the following: "The rain comes down. Grass grows. Children get old," the Shah said suddenly. "That's it. We all know. We know full well and can't even whisper it out loud. We know in spite of them."
I'm also glad to tell you that this isn't one of those books, usually written by city-dwellers, that just romanticize life in the country. Of course, it too, has its cheesy (albeit beautiful) moments, but these are just flourish and not the entire point of the book.
The only thing I didn't entirely get were the societal tensions, that simmered in the background at times. But that's just because I don't know much about the internal Irish conflicts - I'll certainly come back again once I know a bit more. Still, my ignorance didn't negatively impact the reading experience as it is just something that really only takes center stage in one short passage of the book.
This is the perfect read for in between books - but also for when you feel stressed and don't want to read something difficult or nerve-raking, or for when you don't know what to read next and just happen to think of this book. Despite its premise (maybe) sounding boring on paper, it isn't and in the end makes you want to read more about people whose life's are, in the grand scheme of things, rather uneventful.
June 5, 2026
This will definitely get a re-read at some point. Very poignant.
January 2, 2025
A slow, beautiful, gentle book that describes a year in a rural Irish community, seen through the eyes of a deftly-portrayed set of characters. At the centre are the Ruttledges, a couple who have moved to the area from London, but with a connection to the town - Joe Ruttledge spent part of his childhood there - and the desire to integrate with its people, traditions, and farming-based life. The perspective of being part of the community, but also slightly distanced from it, works well. There isn't really a plot. Some stuff happens (mostly the rituals or requirements of rural life - haymaking and so on) and people talk a lot about their pasts, present, and future and one another.
At times politics (especially of the Irish Republican variety) lurks at the edge of the story, but it never really comes central stage, and that seems to me to show nicely how, for all that the troubles can dominate narratives of Ireland from the period*, most people were just getting on with their lives. Joe Ruttledge's quiet contempt for the prominent Republican who does come into the story at one point, while realising he has to rub along with him, has it about right for me.
I must confess that with the slow pace and lack of action, I was getting a bit bored with it about halfway through (hence 4 rather than 5 stars) but got more immersed in it towards the end, and was enjoying the read and connected to the characters.
I'd recommend it, but it's not one to go for if you're looking for a fast pace or a compelling plot. And it's probably best read when you have time to get into it in some longer sittings - it's harder if (as I was earlier in the book) you're just picking it up for 10 mins at a time before bed.
* (As an aside, I've seen a few reviews speculating on when the book was set, mentioning the 70s or 80s. It does have a timeless feel to it that could be any time from the 60s onwards - but references to the 1987 Enniskillen bombing and the TV show Blind Date mean it must be set at the earliest in the late 1980s).
At times politics (especially of the Irish Republican variety) lurks at the edge of the story, but it never really comes central stage, and that seems to me to show nicely how, for all that the troubles can dominate narratives of Ireland from the period*, most people were just getting on with their lives. Joe Ruttledge's quiet contempt for the prominent Republican who does come into the story at one point, while realising he has to rub along with him, has it about right for me.
I must confess that with the slow pace and lack of action, I was getting a bit bored with it about halfway through (hence 4 rather than 5 stars) but got more immersed in it towards the end, and was enjoying the read and connected to the characters.
I'd recommend it, but it's not one to go for if you're looking for a fast pace or a compelling plot. And it's probably best read when you have time to get into it in some longer sittings - it's harder if (as I was earlier in the book) you're just picking it up for 10 mins at a time before bed.
* (As an aside, I've seen a few reviews speculating on when the book was set, mentioning the 70s or 80s. It does have a timeless feel to it that could be any time from the 60s onwards - but references to the 1987 Enniskillen bombing and the TV show Blind Date mean it must be set at the earliest in the late 1980s).
April 22, 2016
This is a charmingly simple but effective and intelligent book that showcases McGahern's obvious talents as a writer. Published in 2002, it is his last novel before his death in 2006.
There's not much plot here; the novel covers a period a year in the lives of Joe and Kate Ruttledge, who have returned to Ireland after spending time pursuing careers in London. They settle in a small rural village and take up farming on a modest scale.
The story is just full of wonderful characters. The Ruttledge's themselves are generous, pragmatic, sociable and valued community members. Others, friend and relatives, frequently gravitate towards their household in pursuit of social intercourse, advice and comfort.
The vast array of friends and acquaintances are variously quirky, funny, emotionally fractious and are generally more endearing than they are annoying.
Key among the Ruttledge's friends are Jamesie and his wife Marie. Jamesie is a particularly lively and humorous character, occasionally disposed towards despondency, on which occasions he indulges too heavily in his favourite beverage, whiskey.
There are plenty of other local colorful characters to enjoy.
McGahern has cleverly and wittily brought into the light the daily life and its rituals and celebrations of this small Irish community.
We are given illuminating glimpses of the prevailing religious beliefs, rites and customs. the nature of family relationships and celebrations and the frequent daily social interactions that frequently involve a glass of whiskey or three.
A couple of the most eloquent and revealing scenes in the novel are the annual holiday cattle sales and the death, wake and subsequent burial of a friend who died suddenly.
The book's title is a reference to the requirement to bury a man with his head at the western end of the grave so that he may face the rising sun each morning.
Charming, eloquent, intelligent and a pleasure to read.
There's not much plot here; the novel covers a period a year in the lives of Joe and Kate Ruttledge, who have returned to Ireland after spending time pursuing careers in London. They settle in a small rural village and take up farming on a modest scale.
The story is just full of wonderful characters. The Ruttledge's themselves are generous, pragmatic, sociable and valued community members. Others, friend and relatives, frequently gravitate towards their household in pursuit of social intercourse, advice and comfort.
The vast array of friends and acquaintances are variously quirky, funny, emotionally fractious and are generally more endearing than they are annoying.
Key among the Ruttledge's friends are Jamesie and his wife Marie. Jamesie is a particularly lively and humorous character, occasionally disposed towards despondency, on which occasions he indulges too heavily in his favourite beverage, whiskey.
There are plenty of other local colorful characters to enjoy.
McGahern has cleverly and wittily brought into the light the daily life and its rituals and celebrations of this small Irish community.
We are given illuminating glimpses of the prevailing religious beliefs, rites and customs. the nature of family relationships and celebrations and the frequent daily social interactions that frequently involve a glass of whiskey or three.
A couple of the most eloquent and revealing scenes in the novel are the annual holiday cattle sales and the death, wake and subsequent burial of a friend who died suddenly.
The book's title is a reference to the requirement to bury a man with his head at the western end of the grave so that he may face the rising sun each morning.
Charming, eloquent, intelligent and a pleasure to read.
November 16, 2016
A lovely book that basically reflects country life in Ireland in the 1980's. There is very little plot but the characters are interesting. The story just gently rolls from season to season and from happening to happening. The general feeling toward the end of the book is that progress is coming and this simple life is in danger of disappearing. There is a lot going on within these pages: marriages, deaths of neighbors and of livestock, divorce, friends and neighbors but it is all entwined with some wonderful descriptions of the Irish countryside. I really enjoyed the details provided that talked about taking the sheep and cattle to the slaughterhouse--not that I like thinking about that but the process was interesting. Reading about preparing a body for a wake--when there are no morticians--was also something I found fascinating--and explained the title of the book.
ADDENDUM: I will stand by my original review but I enjoyed this read much more this time around.
ADDENDUM: I will stand by my original review but I enjoyed this read much more this time around.
February 24, 2023
Tonally, this one felt considerably lighter than McGahern’s other works, even though glimpses of the harshness weathered with an almost fatalistic shrug from rural Irish communities were far from absent. The lack of chapters and a discernible plot was a clever device to capture the slow-paced, “sure you know yourself” nature of rural life in Ireland that has proved timeless.
However, it is for this very same reason that I found this one a bit of a slog as I struggled with the repetitiveness and lack of structure. Again, I think I could read this again in a year’s time when I want to delve into a well-observed character study and feel completely differently. As it is, there are things I both love (the everyman philosophies of these seemingly ordinary characters leading seemingly ordinary lives) and things I wasn’t so keen on (the length, the stream-of-consciousness style I often tend to struggle with), so three stars seems like a good rating to land on.
However, it is for this very same reason that I found this one a bit of a slog as I struggled with the repetitiveness and lack of structure. Again, I think I could read this again in a year’s time when I want to delve into a well-observed character study and feel completely differently. As it is, there are things I both love (the everyman philosophies of these seemingly ordinary characters leading seemingly ordinary lives) and things I wasn’t so keen on (the length, the stream-of-consciousness style I often tend to struggle with), so three stars seems like a good rating to land on.
November 15, 2025
I kept going to the end because McGahern's writing is beguiling, but in this book the content rather bored me. Ruttledge moves back to Ireland and brings his new wife with him. She is an artist. They buy a dilapidated house by a lake which they do up and start a small holding with lambs and cows. That is all we learn about them throughout the book. Instead, we are given gossip from one neighbour round the lake about another. They all drop in, eat sandwiches and cake and drink tea or hard liquor, tell their gossip and leave. Gradually, we hear that John Quin raped his bride on the way back from the marriage ceremony so that the mortified guests watching from the garden, left in a hurry. The annual market where Ruttledge sells his cattle is given pages of detail, and his uncle sells his metal business to his life-long worker, and so on. I will try to watch the film that was made of this book to see what storyline they manage to drag out of it.
September 13, 2024
7.25.24: Understated and quiet--a relatively simple story of a small Irish community-- but intense and powerful beneath it all. Reading McGahern always requires a certain kind of attention--a willingness to read and understand at a surface level while still absorbing and feeling the underlying tension, the depths, the intricacies of human lives and relationships. The writing is spare, but every detail that is given, when tugged very gently, shows beneath it a huge web of meaning and backstory, all of human experience distilled into one character, one scene, one action. Hard to describe, really. Hard to pin down. How does a writer achieve such a still surface with so much going on underneath? And how can I explain it when it’s so elusive? (Read McGahern, let me know what you think!)
November 16, 2023
Nobody writes rural fiction, with all its alliances and peculiarities quite like John McGahern. That They Might Face the Rising Sun is largely built around Joe Ruttledge and his wife returned from England to life on the land. The Ruttledge's friendship with the loquacious Jamesie Murphy and his wife Mary provides the fulcrum for the story with other characters built around that. In ways what makes the novel special is its ordinariness, the richness of the characters and the sense of community forged by friends around a Leitrim lake.
June 3, 2011
Admittedly, it took me quite a few pages to begin to get interested in this novel, but once I did, I found it quietly absorbing. It helped that I kept a running list of every name mentioned in the story, and took other notes. It's probably the sort of novel that provides great rewards if you read it with close attention, but not otherwise. You can see my detailed analysis of it in my journal entry.
August 5, 2024
I have to read the book again. I found it confusing ,difficult to understand what was going on and who certain characters were. Characters suddenly appeared from nowhere and I found it confusing. Also, I was not sure what the time frame was, still struggling to get over the fact it was 1930's Ireland, I thought it was 1980's.
Not a bad book, just a bit confusing for me. For me to want to read the book again, is a good sign, as I never do that.
Not a bad book, just a bit confusing for me. For me to want to read the book again, is a good sign, as I never do that.
June 8, 2012
That They May Face the Rising Sun depicts a slice of Irish Life in a small lakeside community. To be honest nothing much happens in the novel, we follow the lives of the community through a year of their lives. I really wasn't a fan of this novel while it was well written it just didn't hold my interest.
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