Holy…. F ….. I need to catch my breath. Incredible experience and feelings reading this book. WOW!! Just WOW!!!
I’ll return with a review later. I need time to digest.
Phenomenal — EXQUISITE writing!!!!
Review…..
Connecting to this novel was a harmonious experience for me from the first word: “End”….
I started reading out loud….just to hear the words ….sing and echo….
….. “She was born”.
“Small but healthy, a fortnight early. Through a soft, misty rain on her third morning her father drove her home, slowly, swaddled tight against her mothers chest, her mother, kissing her cheek over and over”.
And then….such a horrible tragedy….one that took me back to my own childhood too….(an instant father’s death that changed life forever….for the women remaining).
I was four when my father died. An older sister, almost ten.
Our mother never recovered from his death. ….
But….
we were a family of women. My aunt Gladys and Aunt Micky were over playing cards with my mom often.
My grandmother, Cookie, (my father’s mother), took me to her cottage in Calistoga during the summers after my father died. My mom, aunts, cousins joined for weekend visits…playing Bingo outside on hot summer nights.
I had two uncles: one from my mother’s side - one from my father’s who gave me little gifts - but I was a fatherless child ….
Growing up ….I was aware that other kids had fathers …but I only knew what living with women were like.
After giving birth to two girls, myself, I use to wonder — what it felt like for a woman to grow a penis inside her.
Or …wonder with fascination..about the single girlfriend with a house filled with brothers.
In “The Queen of Dirt Island”, Saoirse grows up in a house with no men. The women are loud (reminding me of my mom and aunts screaming at each other over a card game — chain-smoking and many cups of coffee).
Later, Saoirse gives birth to a daughter, Pearl, who changes everyone’s lives.
The Irish women in “The Queen of Dirt Island” as we come to know them — have many multifaceted sides. They are wise, funny, opinionated….and certainly have each endured their share of heartbreak struggles.
The ending of this novel is hopeful ….
But from pages just ‘before’ …..I literally loss my breath….from the ways ‘fierce and tender’ connects our heart and thoughts together.
The styling is unique…..(tight beginning and ending bookends)….with full-bodied stories in the middle highlighting every angle of humanity.
Donal Ryan’s set this story in Nenagh, Tipperary….( a town for all seasons), a rural community island in Ireland….and parts in the Limerick region —wonderful historical atmosphere.
We meet Mary Aylward, a widow who develops a relationship with her son’s widow, Eileen….(who was rejected by her own family for having been pregnant before marriage). Mary and Eileen become best friends: a fascinating, inspiring, and unusual close friendship.
And…
Saoirse is raised by strong Irish women.
Memories in this story kept pulling me in …. continuously pulling on my emotions. ….
Ryan’s writing is so very ‘awe-inspiring’ …. often reads like poetry or music. I hope to read every book he’s written. LOVE HIS WRITING!
His gorgeous sentences and paragraphs emotionally let us ‘feel’ something…..and I thought his fragment styling — watching the years go by — worked well for this novel.
I read several excerpts…over and over ….taking a little something different away each time.
Here are a few excerpt favorites:
“She was four in her, earliest memory, or maybe just turned five”.
“It was spring time so it must’ve been near her birthday. The cherry blossom tree was heavily flowered at the edge of the small front garden; it was itself the greater part of the memory. Or maybe it was her birthday, because someone was taking a photograph, and she was standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, with sunlight, dancing green and pink across the grass, her grandmother, on one side of her, and her mother, on the other side, each of them, holding one of her hands, as though they might, at any moment, start to tug in their opposite directions, and pull her clean apart”.
“But that violence must have attached itself to the memory afterwards”.
“Every other house, in the smallest state that had children, and it also had a father, a living one”.
“None of them looked like they were as much use, except for cutting grass with the same shared lawnmower, taking turns to cut the verges and the small green area at the front of the estate and the smaller green at the back. Most of them worked in the village town 4 miles from the village, leaving in the mornings, wearing jackets and coming home and shirt, sleeves, smoking, as they parked their cars. Some of them drove vans with their names on the sides, or the names of businesses, advertising their services, a plumber, a carpenter, a wholesale butcher, and electrician”.
“Aren’t you pretty, she said. Little Love, you are. Our daddies went to Heaven on the same day. Did you know that? And something in the woman’s voice, the sadness in the way she said the word — daddies — made Saoirse cry, and she was shocked at her tears, their suddenness, the heat of them on her face, and the woman took her fully in her arms then, and she pressed her lips softly against Saoirse’s wet cheek, whispering, Little pet. God help us”.
NOTE….growing up, I, too, felt sadness around the word ‘daddies’.
“We can only go back in our minds and even then we’re going back to something that doesn’t exist except the way a dream exists. So we can forget changing the past and all we can do is look after our present moment, planting good seeds in it so that our next moments might be fruitful”.
“Saoirse remembered how Mother and Nana always blessed themselves at the bend of the road where her father had been killed, and again, she felt a pang of guilt at her absence of grief, for never having knelt there and cried”.
NOTE….I often felt a pang of guilt over not feeling the grief as my mom did, too. I felt guilty if I were happy when I knew my mother wasn’t. ….so I started hiding my joy…I felt from friends.
“Happiness was a strange notion, something that was wrapped neatly, and packed into the closing scenes of television shows and daytime films, sharply relieved on the screen, but blurry in real life, a vague ideal”.
Much to take in….from ‘The Queen of Dirt Island’.
Rubbish chatter…
Glimmers of the truth…
Wild imaginations…
Mortification and shame…
Distractions…
Resentments…
Bloodshot eyes…
Forgiveness & reconciliation
Kissing…
Memories of pleasure…
Drizzling skies…
Nana’s stories…
….stories of secret gays, swinging couples, violent husband, faithless wives, transvestites, sex rings, drug rings, covered-up murders…
….[she stayed away from subversive activity and gunrunning or anything that might strike too close to Nana’s bones]
Fruitcake…
Sweet smiles…
Laughter…
Screaming…
Cows, chickens, and baby lambs…
Warm fantasies…
Soggy grass and a dirty pond…
Depths of distant sadness…
A world contracting and expanding…
A full rainbow novel…..
…pain….love…..gratefulness of our Mothers……etc. etc.