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Requiem
Rising above her status as a world-renowned children's author, Berlie Doherty's first truly adult novel probes the tragi-comedy of Irish convent Catholicism with a rare power and sensitivity that continues to disturb long after the reader has finished. The story of Cecilia's adolescence is exquisitely told in a style both economic and exuberant. There are moments of near-Joycean epiphany ... the plot is tight and the narrative startling. Doherty writes in, and even beyond, the best tradition of Irish lyricism, to explore the extremes of sacrifice and sin, love and rejection.
This Edition has been completely reworked and redesigned for autumn 2014.
This Edition has been completely reworked and redesigned for autumn 2014.
310 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 4, 2011
About the author
Berlie Doherty
108 books87 followersBerlie Doherty née Hollingsworth is an English novelist, poet, playwright and screenwriter. She is best known for children's books, for which she has twice won the Carnegie Medal.She has also written novels for adults, plays for theatre and radio, television series and libretti for children's opera.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
February 5, 2023
It was okay!
Lots of descriptive language surrounding the landscape and the scene in which the protagonist was in. This made it important to really pay attention to detail cause there was little dialogue. Written from the firsthand pov of the protagonist. Wish the beginning was less about her childhood and the ending was extended.
Lots of descriptive language surrounding the landscape and the scene in which the protagonist was in. This made it important to really pay attention to detail cause there was little dialogue. Written from the firsthand pov of the protagonist. Wish the beginning was less about her childhood and the ending was extended.
April 6, 2017
Very well-written but I was just not in the mood for teenage Irish Catholic oppression, angst & misery.
February 2, 2026
“And I saw then as I see now the long, untold line of women who have carried me into life. I see them squatting, long skirts hoicked above their thighs, and I look away aghast. How clearly their cries come to me in the darkness, like the gathering of beasts, like the bleating of lambs.”
.
It might sound somewhat maudlin to say that I find these sorts of books, set in rural Ireland, amid a plethora of nuns and peat fires, oddly comforting. Perhaps it is a form of naïve nostalgia for a simpler time, or a yearning to be gathered into a modest domestic world: a view of the sea, the gentle lilt of music, and loved ones clothed in woollen cardigans and tweed. It all feels particularly enticing.
.
This book certainly ticks those boxes. It has all of that, along with a heavy layer of Catholicism and a cache of deep family secrets. Much of this I liked. That is, until the final third of the book, which felt jarring and altogether different in tone from what preceded it.
.
Doherty is probably best known in the UK as a children’s author, and while this novel is clearly intended for adults, it retains something of a YA sensibility, making it very easy to read. When I began it, I assumed it must draw heavily on her own life; it has the feel of first-hand knowledge, written with a confidence and insight that suggest lived experience.
.
It is unfortunate, then, that the final section proves disappointing, as much of the rest of the book is good. I am not even sure how easy it is to obtain now, I am not certain how it came to be in my own collection. Penguin no longer appears to publish it, though it may still technically be in print. The whole thing feels faintly sad, in a way, given what the book seems to mean to its author.
.
It might sound somewhat maudlin to say that I find these sorts of books, set in rural Ireland, amid a plethora of nuns and peat fires, oddly comforting. Perhaps it is a form of naïve nostalgia for a simpler time, or a yearning to be gathered into a modest domestic world: a view of the sea, the gentle lilt of music, and loved ones clothed in woollen cardigans and tweed. It all feels particularly enticing.
.
This book certainly ticks those boxes. It has all of that, along with a heavy layer of Catholicism and a cache of deep family secrets. Much of this I liked. That is, until the final third of the book, which felt jarring and altogether different in tone from what preceded it.
.
Doherty is probably best known in the UK as a children’s author, and while this novel is clearly intended for adults, it retains something of a YA sensibility, making it very easy to read. When I began it, I assumed it must draw heavily on her own life; it has the feel of first-hand knowledge, written with a confidence and insight that suggest lived experience.
.
It is unfortunate, then, that the final section proves disappointing, as much of the rest of the book is good. I am not even sure how easy it is to obtain now, I am not certain how it came to be in my own collection. Penguin no longer appears to publish it, though it may still technically be in print. The whole thing feels faintly sad, in a way, given what the book seems to mean to its author.
August 29, 2011
Great read - but rushed ending spoilt it a bit.
April 6, 2017
Finally found a review by the author herself online and confirmed that this is indeed the book (out of hundreds that go by the same title) which I had read and enjoyed many years ago. Here's the review I found here http://www.berliedoherty.com/novelsf.... :
'The story of Cecilia’s adolescence is exquisitely told in a style that is both economic and exuberant… There are moments of near-Joycean epiphany… the plot is tight and the narrative is startling.'—The Independant
‘Requiem’ is an enchanting and lyrical portrait of childhood and growing up. Berlie Doherty is a real writer… lovely prose… more please.'—Barbara Trapido
It is quiet in the early fields. A bell begins to toll for Mass, and from all over the village dogs set up their barking. A priest in his long skirts stands on the steps of the church. People are coming, clutching their missals. The priest goes inside. He is old.
Latecomers shuffle in the porch. Men in their shirtsleeves stand leaning on the glass at the back of the church. Their shadows hunch about. The voices of the faithful rumble after the priest. A baby’s hand taps on the glass.
Outside the streets are empty. A rook on a post clucks to itself and squawks down, loud-beaked, to its fellows.
Requiem began as a short story, and was my first piece of writing as an adult. It was broadcast on BBC Radio Sheffield in 1988, and hearing it read aloud was one of the most exciting things that has happened to me as a writer. From that moment I was determined to make writing my career.
Some time later I wrote an extended version of Requiem as a play for BBC Radio 4, and it was first broadcast in 1993. It was part fiction, part autobiography, about an adolescent girl attending a convent school, and the crippling effect of the taunts of one particular nun on her life.
Soon after that I began to write the adult novel, Requiem, and although the girl at the convent school remained at the heart of it, I developed it into a story of a girl in rural Ireland who is imprisoned not just by her religion but by her family, and her search for her real identity becomes the driving narrative of the novel. Throughout she is obsessed with the memory of that nun’s taunt to her, that she cannot live up to her namesake—Cecilia, martyr and virgin, patron saint of music. For me, it is the most personal and important book I have written, and I was very disappointed when the publishers allowed it to go out of print.
'The story of Cecilia’s adolescence is exquisitely told in a style that is both economic and exuberant… There are moments of near-Joycean epiphany… the plot is tight and the narrative is startling.'—The Independant
‘Requiem’ is an enchanting and lyrical portrait of childhood and growing up. Berlie Doherty is a real writer… lovely prose… more please.'—Barbara Trapido
It is quiet in the early fields. A bell begins to toll for Mass, and from all over the village dogs set up their barking. A priest in his long skirts stands on the steps of the church. People are coming, clutching their missals. The priest goes inside. He is old.
Latecomers shuffle in the porch. Men in their shirtsleeves stand leaning on the glass at the back of the church. Their shadows hunch about. The voices of the faithful rumble after the priest. A baby’s hand taps on the glass.
Outside the streets are empty. A rook on a post clucks to itself and squawks down, loud-beaked, to its fellows.
Requiem began as a short story, and was my first piece of writing as an adult. It was broadcast on BBC Radio Sheffield in 1988, and hearing it read aloud was one of the most exciting things that has happened to me as a writer. From that moment I was determined to make writing my career.
Some time later I wrote an extended version of Requiem as a play for BBC Radio 4, and it was first broadcast in 1993. It was part fiction, part autobiography, about an adolescent girl attending a convent school, and the crippling effect of the taunts of one particular nun on her life.
Soon after that I began to write the adult novel, Requiem, and although the girl at the convent school remained at the heart of it, I developed it into a story of a girl in rural Ireland who is imprisoned not just by her religion but by her family, and her search for her real identity becomes the driving narrative of the novel. Throughout she is obsessed with the memory of that nun’s taunt to her, that she cannot live up to her namesake—Cecilia, martyr and virgin, patron saint of music. For me, it is the most personal and important book I have written, and I was very disappointed when the publishers allowed it to go out of print.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews