'All things considered, I wonder if shooting that policeman made me the man that I am?'
In this masterful new work, award-winning author Theo Dorgan has written a philosophical thriller of extraordinary depth. An Irishman in Paris considers the weight and impact of a single violent act that forced him to flee Ireland forty years ago. When Vincent, a young Algerian friend, suggests Joseph should write his life story, Joseph embarks on a self-examination that will lay bare, perhaps only to himself, a singular and surprising life.
Set against the evocative backdrops of Paris and Cork, Camarade explores a life shaped by one fateful moment and the quiet violence of self-reckoning. The story unfolds in a dual Joseph's present-day existence in Paris, with its muted rhythms and introspective solitude, and his youth in 1960s Ireland, raised on his grandfather's stories of the Flying Column and revolution.
After one violent act, Joseph finds himself exiled in France during the turbulent decades of the Algerian Crisis and May '68, where he discovers comradeship, unexpected freedom in careful neutrality.
As Joseph writes, he confronts the central question of his did a single act of life-changing violence make him who he is, or was he always destined to become this man?
Written in precise, contemplative prose, Camarade examines how we construct meaning from our past while questioning the nature of authenticity and self-awareness. At once, an intimate character study, a meditation on history, violence and the enduring impact of our choices. This novel asks us to consider the space between who we imagine we are destined to be and who we eventually become. Moving with the tension of a thriller while exploring profound philosophical questions, Camarade confirms Theo Dorgan's place as one of our most thoughtful and elegant literary voices.
Camarade by Theo Dorgan first sentence: "All things considered, I wonder if shooting that policeman made me the man that I am?'
In the Goodreads blurb of the book it is described as a "philosophical thriller of extraordinary depth." So one could easily expected it to be a thriller, but if that is your expectation on picking up this book, you will be greatly disappointed.
I would suggest that you open this book with an open mind. Dorgan, an Irish poet writes beautifully, reflectively, spooling the story out into long intersecting threads. It is told in first person by 70 something, Joseph Lyons who currently lives in Paris and grew up in Cork, Ireland.
It is told as a dual timeline, with Joseph recounting his time growing up in Ireland, being brought up by his grandfather, Michael Lyons and his life today in Paris.
The book is truly a character study and as such does not move at a fast pace. It is also quite evocative of both Cork and Paris. Of Paris, Joseph notes:
The French love their bread, I noticed this from the start, but more than their bread they love the idea of going to the Boulanger. I think it speaks to them of civility. They are a private people who fetishise, solemnise, every action conducted in public. Thus, it is not enough that I go to the bakery, buy bread, return home and make my breakfast. There are first the expected people on the street to be acknowledged, people one knows to nod to, people with whom one has spoken in the past and may again, people whom one is obliged to greet by name, by some minor inquiring courtesy. In the bakery itself one waits in the short queue for Monsieur or Madame to acknowledge one, to ask if one desires the usual. Ideally, to be fully in tune with the rituals, one then fumbles in a worn coin purse for the handful of coins required. Those who come to the counter with the exact change already in hand are frowned upon – but so discreetly that only the regulars notice the faint arching eyebrow of Monsieur or Madame.
This is really quite a wonderful book and I'm glad its nomination for the Dublin Literary Award, brought it to my attention.
This reads like a first draft, far too long, the writing far too loose. The blurb say it's "a philosophical thriller of extraordinary depth." It's none of those things. The plot, such as it is, is really the protagonist looking back over his dull life in Paris after a single incident in Cork when he shoots a policeman. An act which seems so arbitrary - why did the policeman single him out as an enemy? Any why assault the friend? And why were there no consequences from the shooting? As to it having "extraordinary depth," the protagonist is far too vain and self-satisfied to be in the least engaging: "I walk through this beautiful place that I have made for myself, long since my own, approving of its order, its polished and dusted lustre of home and comfort, its evidence of the life of the mind, its witness that here lived, here lives, a man at home in his mind, his body, his place. A man at peace." Then, in case the reader isn't fully clear about the lofty plane to which our protagonist has elevated himself, twenty pages later we get it again: "...the light through the tall windows softened as it reflects back from the spines of my books. I have built this silence, this considered peace around me through the passing years; lovers have stood with me in this room, lain with me in these rooms, and friends have passed long nights of talk here, but mostly I have invested these rooms, this room now, with the silent witness of my own life, with the sense of content I have gathered, accummulated and nurtured in myself." But not so rarefied an intellect that it can't include purveyors of domestic appliances in its ambit: "Today we have the dusting of books. Dyson, the English engineer, what a smart fellow! A shit, I think, but smart all the same." A certain amount of this is fine in a novel if the plot is gripping enough, and a certain amount of loose plotting is fine, if the writing is good enough. This is too loose in every way.
A meditative, layered character study wrapped in the bones of a thriller.
This wasn’t a fast-paced read, but it was a gripping one in its own quiet, cerebral way.
I found myself completely absorbed by Joseph’s voice, so measured and introspective, and at times almost painfully self-aware. He’s a man who’s lived with the consequences of one violent choice for decades, and watching him finally face that in writing was both moving and unsettling.
I especially loved the way the novel moves between youthful idealism and the ache of old memory.
Dorgan does a beautiful job capturing the nuances of exile, not just from place, but from self. The backdrop of May '68 and the Algerian conflict gave the story historical depth without overpowering Joseph’s internal journey.
The story is deliberate and lyrical, it demands you slow down and sit with it. Not every moment is action-packed, but the emotional tension never really lets up. It made me think a lot about how we reconcile who we were with who we are now, and whether a single decision can define a whole life.
If you’re in the mood for something thoughtful, elegiac, and morally tangled, Camarade is worth sitting with.
Theo Dorgan is a new author to me. I received an ARC of this book for free in exchange for an honest review. This book is absolutely amazing. I think I was going to give this 4 stars after the initial read, but I cannot stop thinking about this book as the days go on. So, I upped the rating to a 5. We follow Joseph, who after some prompting from a friend, decides to write his own life story about a single action. As he begins to write his story, he goes through deep personal examination. What follows is a masterpiece. The way Theo writes is poetic and lyrical. A writer who can take some very serious topics and turn them into a poem. As a reader, one feels ALL of the emotions. Set in Ireland and with a dual timeline,childhood vs adulthood, this book had me wanting more, while feeling so many emotions I almost put it down for a break.
Check trigger warnings for violence, sex, death, and rape before reading. The mental health of every human is very important.