James Plunkett Kelly, or James Plunkett (21 May 1920 – 28 May 2003), was an Irish writer. He was educated at Synge Street CBS.
Plunkett grew up among the Dublin working class and they, along with the petty bourgeoisie and lower intelligentsia, make up the bulk of the dramatis personae of his oeuvre. His best-known works are the novel Strumpet City, set in Dublin in the years leading up to the lockout of 1913 and during the course of the strike, and the short stories in the collection The Trusting and the Maimed. His other works include a radio play on James Larkin, who figures prominently in his work.
During the 1960s, Plunkett worked as a producer at Telefís Éireann. He won two Jacob's Awards, in 1965 and 1969, for his TV productions. In 1971 he wrote and presented "Inis Fail - Isle of Destiny", his very personal appreciation of Ireland. It was the final episode of the BBC series "Bird's-Eye View", shot entirely from a helicopter, and the first co-production between the BBC and RTE.
James Plunkett is one of the forgotten men of Irish literature. Most of our writers seem to loom larger than their work (Behan, whom I wrote about last week, is the classic example). But Plunkett's name is less remembered than either his landmark play, The Risen People, or his novel and television series, Strumpet City.
This is a very good evocation of Dublin in the 1950’s, which is about as depressing a time and place as can be imagined. Consequently, this is not an enjoyable experience. It is the only short story in the collection which is on Boxall’s List, which is why I read it. Other reviewers here say it is the best of the bunch, which did not inspire me to read any more.
If you enjoy rain soaked Catholic guilt and misery then you might be impressed by the artistry Plunkett shows in recreating it. There is a scene where a character with a broken leg lies on a lonely hillside and wonders how it will end. When I read this I had a sudden memory from my childhood when I once sat on a rock and watched the incoming tide swirl around it, until eventually I woke from my reverie and splashed back to the shore before it was too late (there was nothing wrong with my legs). I had felt a kind of immersion with sea and sky: on the one hand disconnected from my everyday life, on the other hand connected with everything more deeply than I had felt before. Plunkett’s maimed hero on the hillside watches the evening sunlight fall and feels the same thing. There is something strange and transcendent about this. But it isn’t very cheerful – at least not when Plunkett writes it.
A collection of twelve short stories set in Ireland during the 1940s and 1950s. The stories are about ordinary characters generally dissatisfied with their lot in life. I found each story quite engaging. My favourite stories are ‘Scoop’, and ‘The Wearin’ of the Green’. ‘Scoop’ is about men in a pub telling an English journalist where he can find the IRA. The gullible journalist takes a photo of what he believes is the IRA undertaking a training exercise. In ‘Wearin’ of the Green’, Purcell, the schoolmaster, organises a Choral Society which grew rapidly and became a focal point of interest in the town. However things become complicated. The town’s most influential businessman and Father Finnegan insist on directing when and where the Choral Society should perform.
A realistic representation of the resentment and frustration of the Irish in post-colonial Ireland.
Not brilliant but there are some good stories in this collection, particularly liked the trusting and the maimed, the wearing of the green and the scoop. Some are funny,some sad and some stories just beggar belief.
James Plunkett’s The Trusting and the Maimed operates as a postmodern palimpsest of Dublin’s social, political, and ethical terrains. The novel’s fragmented structure, episodic narration, and attention to urban microcosms reflect a narrative that is simultaneously a historical chronicle and an ethical meditation.
Characters are rendered with social specificity yet exist in liminal moral spaces; trust and betrayal permeate both plot and thematic architecture. Plunkett foregrounds ethical ambivalence: ordinary individuals negotiate institutional failures, personal desires, and social upheaval, producing a landscape where narrative authority is provisional. Postmodern reading emphasises formal experimentation: digressive observations, shifting perspectives, and temporal elasticity, foreground mediation and self-awareness.
Dublin itself functions as a character, layered with historical memory, contemporary struggle, and literary resonance. Language is both descriptive and performative: every act of narration carries ethical weight and narrative reflexivity. Humour, irony, and tragic awareness coexist, destabilising the conventional realist expectation of moral closure.
By making the ethical stakes explicit yet narratively mediated, Plunkett invites readers to inhabit the provisionality of trust, the contingency of social bonds, and the constructedness of moral judgement. In this sense, the novel exemplifies postmodern concerns: multiplicity of voice, destabilisation of authority, and interrogation of narrative ethics.
It refuses simple resolution, offering instead a reflective lens on human vulnerability and social negotiation, where storytelling is both a moral act and a structural experiment.
I am surprised that this collection of short stories has gone out of print. I found each story intriguing and compelling in different ways. The title story is by far the strongest, but I found "Weep for Our Pride," "The Wearin' of the Green," and "The Eagles and the Trumpets" moving tales of Irish life.