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Children's Children
Children's Children is a collection of fifteen short stories which cast a darkly humorous and oftentimes acidic eye, over life in post-conflict Northern Ireland. The stories contained in the collection are an eclectic selection of pieces which vary from traditional literary fiction to magic realism and subtle experiments with the short story form. They deal with the theme of legacy; the achievements, issues and problems this generation has inherited from the previous. Disillusioned street preachers, adulterous grocery shoppers, robotic brothers and child burglars are all given voice to express their experiences of life in contemporary Northern Ireland as Carson blurs the line between social commentary and modern parable.
224 pages, Paperback
First published July 15, 2016
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205 people want to read
About the author
Jan Carson
26 books247 followersJan Carson is a writer and community arts development officer currently based in Belfast, Northern Ireland. She has a BA in English Literature from Queen’s University Belfast and an MLitt. In Theology and Contemporary Culture from St. Andrew’s University, Scotland. Jan has had short stories published in literary journals on both sides of the Atlantic, has had two of her plays produced for the Belfast stage and is a current recipient of the Arts Council NI’s Artist’s Career Enhancement Bursary. Her first novel, “Malcolm Orange Disappears” will be published by Liberties Press, Dublin on June 2nd 2014.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
October 11, 2016
This book of short stories was a mixed bag. Carson has a vivid and sometime bizarre imagination. I described it last night at my book club meeting as "magic realism" albeit the Northern Irish version. Something that most of her bios omit is that Carson grew up in Ballymena. Outside of Northern Ireland this doesn't mean a lot, but it is significant. Ballymena is known as the heart of the Northern Irish "Bible Belt". It is a stanchly conservative place, and Carson herself tells a story that when she first heard about "the Easter Rising" referring to the rebellion in the Irish Republic, she thought it referred to the resurrection of Jesus.
Magical realism is a literary form that is widely used in Latin America as well as by some American writers from the Southwest (Rudolfo Anaya). I have read many novels that use magical realism, and to me it seems strongly rooted in Catholicism. That makes me wonder what to make of Carson's brand of magical realism which features characters who are often grounded in the Northern Protestant tradition.
There are a number of stories in this volume that involve death. Some are sad and others are quite different. In one, an East Belfast widow hangs up sympathy cards like one would do with Christmas cards, and persists despite criticism. One of my favorite stories was 'Swept' where a husband rebels against his wives anal insistence on order by sweeping the sidewalk for blocks and blocks. At the center is the alienation of this retired couple who have nothing to talk about. The floating girl conceived in an airplane toilet is an example of Carson's most extreme magical realism. I preferred the stories which featured a contrast between magical realism and current reality. In the story "Large Ladies" women check into a weight loss clinic for months at a time where they sleep off their weight. The night nurse, a Polish immigrant and single mother, brings her child with her every night, where he sleeps near the sleeping weight losers. The contrast between the nurse's desperate circumstances - no one to care for her son- and these wealthy women who can afford months is a clinic to sleep off their extra weight, made this one of my favorite stories.
Jan Carson isn't everyone's cup of tea. There are not a large number of Northern Irish novelists in her generation. She studied English Lit at Queens and has a MA from St. Andrews. She works for the Arts Council in Northern Ireland. I think she gets more attention than she might in another place, and people may be more willing to read her unusual fiction because of her background.
Magical realism is a literary form that is widely used in Latin America as well as by some American writers from the Southwest (Rudolfo Anaya). I have read many novels that use magical realism, and to me it seems strongly rooted in Catholicism. That makes me wonder what to make of Carson's brand of magical realism which features characters who are often grounded in the Northern Protestant tradition.
There are a number of stories in this volume that involve death. Some are sad and others are quite different. In one, an East Belfast widow hangs up sympathy cards like one would do with Christmas cards, and persists despite criticism. One of my favorite stories was 'Swept' where a husband rebels against his wives anal insistence on order by sweeping the sidewalk for blocks and blocks. At the center is the alienation of this retired couple who have nothing to talk about. The floating girl conceived in an airplane toilet is an example of Carson's most extreme magical realism. I preferred the stories which featured a contrast between magical realism and current reality. In the story "Large Ladies" women check into a weight loss clinic for months at a time where they sleep off their weight. The night nurse, a Polish immigrant and single mother, brings her child with her every night, where he sleeps near the sleeping weight losers. The contrast between the nurse's desperate circumstances - no one to care for her son- and these wealthy women who can afford months is a clinic to sleep off their extra weight, made this one of my favorite stories.
Jan Carson isn't everyone's cup of tea. There are not a large number of Northern Irish novelists in her generation. She studied English Lit at Queens and has a MA from St. Andrews. She works for the Arts Council in Northern Ireland. I think she gets more attention than she might in another place, and people may be more willing to read her unusual fiction because of her background.
July 16, 2016
Despite Carson hailing from Belfast, and me ordinarily a champion of local authors, I didn't pick up her debut, Malcolm Orange Disappears, having read the premise / some reviews, mainly because I'm not a massive fan of books with fantastical elements. Having read some reviews of this collection, which focused on the fact that may of the stories were set in her native city, and a work colleague having also enjoyed it, I thought I'd give it a chance.
Like her debut, many of the stories within include elements that I suppose could be considered fantastical, or perhaps include elements of magical realism (I'm not exactly sure what that term means!) - from the Polish immigrant who works in a clinic where obese locals go to lose weight by being put into suspended animation for 6 months, to a man turning into a human statue, to a woman whose child floats having been conceived in an aircraft toilet - and I have to say I struggled with these at times. Others included extremely strange premises in a local setting - like the couple who had a supermarket affair, to the man who turned his box room into an allotment, to the man who, after starting, couldn't stop sweeping his street (you'll need to read the story to understand). The title story, set on an island, is an effective metaphor for the division experienced by the two communities in N Ireland.
The best stories, however, concern the theme of loss. A couple return home after losing their baby; another couple cope with the death of their son; a woman deals with the aftermath of her husband's passing - all of these stories sound depressing, but Carson does an excellent job detailing the emptiness, anger, grief and other emotions felt by their characters - definitely the most impressive parts of the collection.
Given my tastes, perhaps I'm not the best person to judge this book, but I can certainly see the talent and the imagination of the writer, and I'm sure a bright future awaits her.
Like her debut, many of the stories within include elements that I suppose could be considered fantastical, or perhaps include elements of magical realism (I'm not exactly sure what that term means!) - from the Polish immigrant who works in a clinic where obese locals go to lose weight by being put into suspended animation for 6 months, to a man turning into a human statue, to a woman whose child floats having been conceived in an aircraft toilet - and I have to say I struggled with these at times. Others included extremely strange premises in a local setting - like the couple who had a supermarket affair, to the man who turned his box room into an allotment, to the man who, after starting, couldn't stop sweeping his street (you'll need to read the story to understand). The title story, set on an island, is an effective metaphor for the division experienced by the two communities in N Ireland.
The best stories, however, concern the theme of loss. A couple return home after losing their baby; another couple cope with the death of their son; a woman deals with the aftermath of her husband's passing - all of these stories sound depressing, but Carson does an excellent job detailing the emptiness, anger, grief and other emotions felt by their characters - definitely the most impressive parts of the collection.
Given my tastes, perhaps I'm not the best person to judge this book, but I can certainly see the talent and the imagination of the writer, and I'm sure a bright future awaits her.
February 22, 2016
Children’s Children, by Jan Carson, is a collection of fifteen short stories exploring the concept of legacy and the influence of one generation upon the next. Many are set in and around particular streets in Belfast. They capture the cut and concerns of the people of this city to perfection.
The author writes with a distinct and original voice. Her prose is rich and satisfying offering up the humour and poignancy of the folk she creates with heart-rending perceptiveness. She inhabits their troubles allowing the reader to get to know their true selves better than they would ever be comfortable with. Their cultural reticence and need to be seen in a certain way is as darkly comic as it is tragic, yet they are presented in a way that cannot help but create sympathy for the situations they must survive.
Each of the stories offer insight into typical family dilemmas: ageing, bereavement, guilt, resentment, the misunderstandings that exist between the sexes and the generations. Some of the tales are told in a straightforward style whilst others stray into allegory and surrealism. Always the prose is beautifully structured, the words invade the senses. These are snapshots of ordinary lives being lived in all their glorious, wretched humanity.
It was pure pleasure to read these tales. The author has an eye and a zest for what is behind the facades people present to others, and can capture these observations with turns of phrase that delight. I could quote again and again but out of context the acuity may be lost. Buy this book and enjoy for yourselves.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Liberties Press.
The author writes with a distinct and original voice. Her prose is rich and satisfying offering up the humour and poignancy of the folk she creates with heart-rending perceptiveness. She inhabits their troubles allowing the reader to get to know their true selves better than they would ever be comfortable with. Their cultural reticence and need to be seen in a certain way is as darkly comic as it is tragic, yet they are presented in a way that cannot help but create sympathy for the situations they must survive.
Each of the stories offer insight into typical family dilemmas: ageing, bereavement, guilt, resentment, the misunderstandings that exist between the sexes and the generations. Some of the tales are told in a straightforward style whilst others stray into allegory and surrealism. Always the prose is beautifully structured, the words invade the senses. These are snapshots of ordinary lives being lived in all their glorious, wretched humanity.
It was pure pleasure to read these tales. The author has an eye and a zest for what is behind the facades people present to others, and can capture these observations with turns of phrase that delight. I could quote again and again but out of context the acuity may be lost. Buy this book and enjoy for yourselves.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Liberties Press.
March 13, 2016
Children’s Children
Jan Carson, Liberties, 2016
Reviewed by Orla McAlinden, finalist in the Greenbean Novel Fair, 2016. orlamcalinden.com
In reading, as in life, it is important to acknowledge and face one’s own prejudices and bigotries. Two years ago, when sent a debut novel by a Northern Irish writer (and theology graduate) with the rather evocative name of Jan Carson, entitled Malcom Orange Disappears, I had a good look at my own preconceptions, before turning the cover. To my confoundment, the story was a joyous and imaginative romp in the magical realist genre, set in Portland, Oregon. Malcom quickly became my book of the year.
In Children’s Children, Carson, who was born and raised in Ballymena, County Antrim, has come home with a bang. Having worked as Arts Outreach Officer in Belfast’s Ulster Hall for several years, Carson has set her debut collection of stories in east Belfast, the location she now calls home. The stories reek of Northern Ireland, authentic and richly imbued with the dialect and black humour of the people. From Bill exacting his petty meanness and revenge on his wife’s doorstep, to Samuel the Jon Bon Jovi fan, these people could have come from nowhere else but the cold and brittle streets of the six counties (or “Northern Ireland”, as some of them would very definitely prefer.) These are our people. And how will the people fare? Will we come together, for the greater good? Carson does not answer her question, leaving us to wonder whether we can make the necessary changes within ourselves.
The collection embraces a variety of styles: realist, surrealist to fantastic. We have the mundanity of a life in the day of an unpaid family-carer, but we also have floating infants who must be tethered to the ground, and writers who recycle their unpublished novel of six years, in the hope that it may come back to life as a dictionary, or something useful. Hope, despair, loss, isolation, and a deep sense of duty; duty to a parent, to an unwanted child, to a spouse at home waiting for his ice-cream, to a dream of a life once to be lived, now nearing its end — a gorgeous smorgasbord of stories to be enjoyed in several giant mouthfuls, or savoured, story by story.
Whilst reading "In Feet and Gradual Inches", my left hand flew up to my mouth in distress and remained clamped there until the very last word, a rare corporal reaction to the printed word that last happened to me while reading the final story of Laura Weddle’s collection Better than my own life.
A tear slid down my face during the spare and pared-back "Den and Estie do not remember the good times", and although I often cry when I read, I will not forget this plain, simple story quickly.
The family in the sixth story must be cousins of the criminal family in Bernard MacLaverty’s classic Belfast story, "The Trojan Sofa". Carson’s story evoked that same, pragmatic northern world so clearly that I had to set the book aside and dig out and reread MacLaverty’s (Matter of Life and Death, Vintage 2006). Carson’s tale, We’ve got each other and that’s a lot, is a funny and back-handed glance at middle-class stiff-upper-lipness, and the importance of not being made to look foolish in front of the neighbours. The story also brought to mind the kidnappings of Elizabeth Browne and Patrick Berrigan from Dublin in 1950 and ’54, and it is perhaps no coincidence that both of those children were eventually found in a respectable Belfast home.
Carson has had a wide and varied role in her career as Arts Outreach Officer in the Ulster Hall, and is particularly proud of her Tea-Dances for senior citizens. She has collaborated with other artists to raise funds for the Alzheimers Association’s “Singing for the Brain” workshops. These events use music as therapy for those with dementia, recalling the vital role of The People’s Committee for Remembering Songs which is pivotal in rescuing Malcolm Orange from his incipient disappearance. In this new collection, Carson invites us to look afresh at our society, and at how we treat our most vulnerable; our young, elderly, demented or simply lonely citizens. A prayer of a book, without a word of preaching, even in the penultimate story which is a gentle, carefully nuanced look at faith, and how it is absorbed and passed on.
Highly recommended.
Jan Carson, Liberties, 2016
Reviewed by Orla McAlinden, finalist in the Greenbean Novel Fair, 2016. orlamcalinden.com
In reading, as in life, it is important to acknowledge and face one’s own prejudices and bigotries. Two years ago, when sent a debut novel by a Northern Irish writer (and theology graduate) with the rather evocative name of Jan Carson, entitled Malcom Orange Disappears, I had a good look at my own preconceptions, before turning the cover. To my confoundment, the story was a joyous and imaginative romp in the magical realist genre, set in Portland, Oregon. Malcom quickly became my book of the year.
In Children’s Children, Carson, who was born and raised in Ballymena, County Antrim, has come home with a bang. Having worked as Arts Outreach Officer in Belfast’s Ulster Hall for several years, Carson has set her debut collection of stories in east Belfast, the location she now calls home. The stories reek of Northern Ireland, authentic and richly imbued with the dialect and black humour of the people. From Bill exacting his petty meanness and revenge on his wife’s doorstep, to Samuel the Jon Bon Jovi fan, these people could have come from nowhere else but the cold and brittle streets of the six counties (or “Northern Ireland”, as some of them would very definitely prefer.) These are our people. And how will the people fare? Will we come together, for the greater good? Carson does not answer her question, leaving us to wonder whether we can make the necessary changes within ourselves.
The collection embraces a variety of styles: realist, surrealist to fantastic. We have the mundanity of a life in the day of an unpaid family-carer, but we also have floating infants who must be tethered to the ground, and writers who recycle their unpublished novel of six years, in the hope that it may come back to life as a dictionary, or something useful. Hope, despair, loss, isolation, and a deep sense of duty; duty to a parent, to an unwanted child, to a spouse at home waiting for his ice-cream, to a dream of a life once to be lived, now nearing its end — a gorgeous smorgasbord of stories to be enjoyed in several giant mouthfuls, or savoured, story by story.
Whilst reading "In Feet and Gradual Inches", my left hand flew up to my mouth in distress and remained clamped there until the very last word, a rare corporal reaction to the printed word that last happened to me while reading the final story of Laura Weddle’s collection Better than my own life.
A tear slid down my face during the spare and pared-back "Den and Estie do not remember the good times", and although I often cry when I read, I will not forget this plain, simple story quickly.
The family in the sixth story must be cousins of the criminal family in Bernard MacLaverty’s classic Belfast story, "The Trojan Sofa". Carson’s story evoked that same, pragmatic northern world so clearly that I had to set the book aside and dig out and reread MacLaverty’s (Matter of Life and Death, Vintage 2006). Carson’s tale, We’ve got each other and that’s a lot, is a funny and back-handed glance at middle-class stiff-upper-lipness, and the importance of not being made to look foolish in front of the neighbours. The story also brought to mind the kidnappings of Elizabeth Browne and Patrick Berrigan from Dublin in 1950 and ’54, and it is perhaps no coincidence that both of those children were eventually found in a respectable Belfast home.
Carson has had a wide and varied role in her career as Arts Outreach Officer in the Ulster Hall, and is particularly proud of her Tea-Dances for senior citizens. She has collaborated with other artists to raise funds for the Alzheimers Association’s “Singing for the Brain” workshops. These events use music as therapy for those with dementia, recalling the vital role of The People’s Committee for Remembering Songs which is pivotal in rescuing Malcolm Orange from his incipient disappearance. In this new collection, Carson invites us to look afresh at our society, and at how we treat our most vulnerable; our young, elderly, demented or simply lonely citizens. A prayer of a book, without a word of preaching, even in the penultimate story which is a gentle, carefully nuanced look at faith, and how it is absorbed and passed on.
Highly recommended.
September 29, 2025
4⭐️
really really enjoyed this little collection of stories. never wouldve read this if it wasnt a 99p kindle deal but i will read more of her stuff for sure. she has a very distinct writing voice and kinda bizzare metaphors and similies and stuff which was strange but i rated. really enjoyed the social commentary through this strange voice.
really really enjoyed this little collection of stories. never wouldve read this if it wasnt a 99p kindle deal but i will read more of her stuff for sure. she has a very distinct writing voice and kinda bizzare metaphors and similies and stuff which was strange but i rated. really enjoyed the social commentary through this strange voice.
December 12, 2017
I nearly put this down. The first few stories are clunky and I found myself having to re-read a few lines in order to understand what they meant. I like Jan Carson, I loved her short story in Female Lines and Glass Shore. They were crafted with care. A lot of these stories are just trying too hard to be 'Norn' Ir'' and beyond it being distracting, it makes the characters seem all the same.
Luckily, it warmed up. Really gut punching moments, so they were, with a wee bit of norn' ir' craic, not for the weanes. SEE HOW ANNOYING THAT IS? It got in the way of the stories, as none of them really needed to be Northern Irish. (I'm assuming that's how she gets funding?) Most of them, were universal, beautiful, abstract, absurd and great...but as soon as the jarring bit of dialogue was thrust upon these characters, it made me want to throw the book against the wall.
By story:
Larger Ladies - I didn't like this, because I don't like the idea of a centre to go to be put under to lose weight. I don't know what she was trying to say here. The Polish woman was one dimensional.
People in Glasshouses - some good things done here, a lot of the vernacular and needed more of a hook.
Still - one of the best ones and one of my favourites.
Den and Estie... - again, it hints at something, but could be better if the message was more powerful/striking. A nice little story.
In Feet and... - there is some truly beautiful writing in here, but again, not sure what she is saying. Didn't feel like a story, but a small insight into the character's life. I felt more could have been done here. I felt like this one could be a truly great story.
We've Got Each Other... - I liked this one, this one I didn't mind the Norn Ir and it pulled at my heartstrings, but was ok.
More of a Handstand...- I liked this one ok, some good writing, again, not a short story.
Contemporary Uses for... - cute, good, not great. Sort of funny.
Swept - good, again, didn't feel like a short story.
Floater - for the most part I loved this, but I still needed to know how she felt about doing this to her daughter. It felt like the story was too wrapped up in saying how she got there and what it was like, instead of what was mentally going on for the mother. I couldn't believe she would do this.
How They Were... - YES! This is a short story, this was great, the heartache, the 'Listen. They're playing music downstairs' was so powerful and punched me in the gut - I re-told my husband this story and even he could feel it. I want more of the stories like THIS.
Shopping - YES AGAIN! Woah and wow. I loved this so much. That moment of violence literally made me gasp. I love the idea and was hooked from the begining. Especially as she threw up the meaty dishes she would eat. I would love to read more of this.
Alternative Units - I also liked, didn't love, but less because of how it was written, but personal taste.
Dinosaur Act - eh, okay. Some good stuff here.
Children's Children - also mentioned in the previous story...nope. Wasn't surreal or real enough, kinda floated in between and needed more direction.
I remember this in Malcolm Orange, she tried SO! HARD! to have it be AMERICAN and it's distracting. Let it be what it is.
This hasn't put me completely off of her. I think she is a good writer, but I feel like with the right editor, she could be amazing.
Luckily, it warmed up. Really gut punching moments, so they were, with a wee bit of norn' ir' craic, not for the weanes. SEE HOW ANNOYING THAT IS? It got in the way of the stories, as none of them really needed to be Northern Irish. (I'm assuming that's how she gets funding?) Most of them, were universal, beautiful, abstract, absurd and great...but as soon as the jarring bit of dialogue was thrust upon these characters, it made me want to throw the book against the wall.
By story:
Larger Ladies - I didn't like this, because I don't like the idea of a centre to go to be put under to lose weight. I don't know what she was trying to say here. The Polish woman was one dimensional.
People in Glasshouses - some good things done here, a lot of the vernacular and needed more of a hook.
Still - one of the best ones and one of my favourites.
Den and Estie... - again, it hints at something, but could be better if the message was more powerful/striking. A nice little story.
In Feet and... - there is some truly beautiful writing in here, but again, not sure what she is saying. Didn't feel like a story, but a small insight into the character's life. I felt more could have been done here. I felt like this one could be a truly great story.
We've Got Each Other... - I liked this one, this one I didn't mind the Norn Ir and it pulled at my heartstrings, but was ok.
More of a Handstand...- I liked this one ok, some good writing, again, not a short story.
Contemporary Uses for... - cute, good, not great. Sort of funny.
Swept - good, again, didn't feel like a short story.
Floater - for the most part I loved this, but I still needed to know how she felt about doing this to her daughter. It felt like the story was too wrapped up in saying how she got there and what it was like, instead of what was mentally going on for the mother. I couldn't believe she would do this.
How They Were... - YES! This is a short story, this was great, the heartache, the 'Listen. They're playing music downstairs' was so powerful and punched me in the gut - I re-told my husband this story and even he could feel it. I want more of the stories like THIS.
Shopping - YES AGAIN! Woah and wow. I loved this so much. That moment of violence literally made me gasp. I love the idea and was hooked from the begining. Especially as she threw up the meaty dishes she would eat. I would love to read more of this.
Alternative Units - I also liked, didn't love, but less because of how it was written, but personal taste.
Dinosaur Act - eh, okay. Some good stuff here.
Children's Children - also mentioned in the previous story...nope. Wasn't surreal or real enough, kinda floated in between and needed more direction.
I remember this in Malcolm Orange, she tried SO! HARD! to have it be AMERICAN and it's distracting. Let it be what it is.
This hasn't put me completely off of her. I think she is a good writer, but I feel like with the right editor, she could be amazing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 17, 2025
I have a theory that Jan Carson uses magical realism as the only way out from the asphyxiating social construct of "Northern Ireland" where half the people don't normally touch anyone else unless it's to inflict violence or the occasion is a funeral where some sort of touching is expected (no matter how embarrassing), and where expressions of human feeling are suppressed. So it's important for Irish literature that Jan Carson gives these people a voice.
Only 4 stars for this collection because sometimes her metaphorical escapist fantasies don't work, as in the last story in the book, "Ghost Team Ards", in which everyone on the "Team" is supposed to have an alter ego that participates actively in the group and intervenes in their discussions. This device is a bit clunky and doesn't really get going - unlike most of the others.
At other times there's a wonderful idea, full of potential, that isn't developed as it could have been: "Chldren's Children" is at least partly a metaphorical fantasy about the two parts and the two peoples of the North and South of a divided island. No prizes for guessing what the island is. There's a big, big idea here that could become a big, big long novel.
I loved "Swept": the story of a man who went out the front of his terraced house in East Belfast, intending to brush clean the short stretch just in front of his own house (as is the practice in those streets) but ended up sweeping more and more until he ended up sweeping all the way across the city: sweeping something away that doesn't have a name but has pervaded the whole place. Away with it!
"Dinosaur Act" is about a woman who in observance of the conventions in her local area (East Belfast again) doesn't feel what she is officially supposed to feel, and is compelled to keep it to herself, permanently. This is very Northern Irish attitude that has stultified and stunted so many. The death of her husband is a liberation - but she dare not tell anyone.
But these are only the ideas of the stories. The writing is mellifluous and musical with a rhythm to it - of front room conversations over cups of tea. It's often very funny.
Only 4 stars for this collection because sometimes her metaphorical escapist fantasies don't work, as in the last story in the book, "Ghost Team Ards", in which everyone on the "Team" is supposed to have an alter ego that participates actively in the group and intervenes in their discussions. This device is a bit clunky and doesn't really get going - unlike most of the others.
At other times there's a wonderful idea, full of potential, that isn't developed as it could have been: "Chldren's Children" is at least partly a metaphorical fantasy about the two parts and the two peoples of the North and South of a divided island. No prizes for guessing what the island is. There's a big, big idea here that could become a big, big long novel.
I loved "Swept": the story of a man who went out the front of his terraced house in East Belfast, intending to brush clean the short stretch just in front of his own house (as is the practice in those streets) but ended up sweeping more and more until he ended up sweeping all the way across the city: sweeping something away that doesn't have a name but has pervaded the whole place. Away with it!
"Dinosaur Act" is about a woman who in observance of the conventions in her local area (East Belfast again) doesn't feel what she is officially supposed to feel, and is compelled to keep it to herself, permanently. This is very Northern Irish attitude that has stultified and stunted so many. The death of her husband is a liberation - but she dare not tell anyone.
But these are only the ideas of the stories. The writing is mellifluous and musical with a rhythm to it - of front room conversations over cups of tea. It's often very funny.
August 23, 2018
I don't usually like short stories but was drawn to read this as the author is from Northern Ireland too. I loved the way she writes and the stories, some are magic realism and create interesting worlds to describe complex emotions, others are more realistic and explore Northern Ireland view of life in an amusing and insightful way. The writing is very precise and carefully thought through and very evocative. Some stories will make you laugh (especially if you are form NI) and others will make you reflect or cry. Marvellous.
July 10, 2023
15 definitely-eclectic stories. I liked some more than others, but greatly appreciated the distinct “post-conflict Northern Ireland” setting for all of them.
Chapter 11, “How They Were Sitting When Their Wings Fell Off” was the most heart-breaking depiction of losing a child that I have read. (Interestingly, chapter 14 focused on the same theme, and I think those are the only two chapters that had the same theme in this book.) A number of the stories were in the more fantastical realm, and some others were “just quirky.”
Chapter 11, “How They Were Sitting When Their Wings Fell Off” was the most heart-breaking depiction of losing a child that I have read. (Interestingly, chapter 14 focused on the same theme, and I think those are the only two chapters that had the same theme in this book.) A number of the stories were in the more fantastical realm, and some others were “just quirky.”
May 5, 2021
I love the way Jan Carson writes about the pains and pleasures of family life, and her short story collection Children's Children was full of these beautifully articulated relationships, often with strange fabulist elements.
Among my favourites were the floating child conceived on an aeroplane, the sister trying to protect her brother whose allergic to people, the family running an adoption scam, and the married shoppers having a no-touching supermarket-based affair. Many of the stories are about loss and change in relationships and the odd-looking from the outside but making internal sense ways we try to cope which is so interesting to me as a therapist.
The only story I didn't like was first in the collection, Larger Ladies, which seemed to rely on tired tropes that dehumanise, objectify and remove agency from fat people in order to make points about class and wealth. Though if someone has an alternative reading of this story I'd love to hear it.
Among my favourites were the floating child conceived on an aeroplane, the sister trying to protect her brother whose allergic to people, the family running an adoption scam, and the married shoppers having a no-touching supermarket-based affair. Many of the stories are about loss and change in relationships and the odd-looking from the outside but making internal sense ways we try to cope which is so interesting to me as a therapist.
The only story I didn't like was first in the collection, Larger Ladies, which seemed to rely on tired tropes that dehumanise, objectify and remove agency from fat people in order to make points about class and wealth. Though if someone has an alternative reading of this story I'd love to hear it.
August 18, 2025
Took me a while to read, and quite a few of the stories didn't seize me, but I can see the writer's talent. Their reflections on grief are very impactful, but might be quite raw for those grieving themselves.
May 31, 2019
A great book of heartfelt short stories. I wish it had wider US distribution because I feel that many people would enjoy Carson’s grim but playfully imaginative storytelling.
October 26, 2020
I should begin by saying that I've never been a fan of short stories - I've always found them weirdly unsatisfying - but this collection has converted me. I was thoroughly invested in each of the characters, and felt as if I knew them as well as if I'd spent an entire novel's worth of time with them instead of only a handful of pages, and the situations they found themselves in stayed with me long after I put the book down. Particular images have stayed with me as well, and some of them are heartbreaking.
The stories are incredibly insightful and perceptive, covering so many aspects of human experience with a wonderful lightness of touch and without ever seeming forced. And Jan Carson's use of language in this collection is extraordinary. She bends it and shapes it to suit her purpose, and I found myself lapping up her imagery and turns of phrase.
Highly recommended! I know I'm going to revisit this collection over and over again.
The stories are incredibly insightful and perceptive, covering so many aspects of human experience with a wonderful lightness of touch and without ever seeming forced. And Jan Carson's use of language in this collection is extraordinary. She bends it and shapes it to suit her purpose, and I found myself lapping up her imagery and turns of phrase.
Highly recommended! I know I'm going to revisit this collection over and over again.
November 21, 2016
Beautiful, sometimes heart-breaking, sometimes tending towards magic-realism, always brilliant.
Read
August 6, 2025DNF
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