No Country for Young Men

by Julia O'Faolain

Tells the story of four generations of two Irish families and their attempts to come to terms with the after-effects of the Irish Civil War of the 1920s

Genres: Fiction, Irish Literature, Ireland, Literary Fiction

416 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1980

About the author

See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julia_O...

Reviews

[Hugh · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is another book from the 1980 Booker shortlist, which is currently the subject of a group reading project at The Mookse and the Gripes. I was very impressed - both the book and the writer were previously unfamiliar to me but they don't deserve to be forgotten.

This is a story rooted in the political and ideological history of modern Ireland, but also about how the culture shapes the expectations of people who live there and the complex relationship of the Irish with their American diaspora. It tells a story of a family over four generations from the civil war of the 1920s up to the late 1970s, and their relationships with two American visitors who get too close to the republican in-fighting. It presents all sides in Ireland's long-standing political debate between republican hard-liners and economic pragmatists, and must have been a brave choice for the Booker jury at a time when the IRA were still so active.

It does have its faults - for me it could have done with some editing - it is quite long and there are sections that failed to hold my interest, but the gradual revelation of secrets and the ending were subtly devastating.

[Jonathan Pool · Rating 5 out of 5]

I came across Julia O'Faolain as a consequence of an excellent Mookse and Gripes Goodreads group visit to the Booker Prize shortlist from 1980 (the group read/ discussion ongoing as of Feb 2017).

What a find.
This really is very good historical fiction.

"No Country for Young Men" is a book about Irish history:
"a repeatedly defeated island, throttled by ancient and fermented rage"p144
and it's a book that considers the role of women in Ireland over the last one hundred years.
"a non swimmer in the flood of life, she would only reach shore in some strong mans arms" p257
(divorce was legalised in Ireland in 1996 following a referendum)

O'Faolain comes from an esteemed Irish literary background herself, and her choice of book title No Country for Young Men is a clever reference/adaptation of the opening line of WB Yeats's poem Sailing to Byzantium.

I suspect the Booker shortlisting of No Country for Young Men was a brave decision. In 1979 Lord Mountbatten of Burma was assassinated, and the "Troubles" in Ireland were front page news.

This is an unashamedly political story and some knowledge of Irish history in the twentieth century, of de Valera, and Michael Collins; even of Gladstone, and James ll would further enhance the reading experience.

No Country for Young Men is multi layered and deeply thoughtful work of literature.
My only, minor, criticism is for last thirty pages of the book which added only a bit of unnecessary drama to a darkly brooding, perfectly pitched, study of a nation's identity.

[Janet · Rating 4 out of 5]

The sister of Irish resistance leaders is shuffled off to a convent to keep her quiet about what she knows. As the story opens, the convent is shutting down and the nun, now in full dementia, is shuffled back to her nearest kin. This is probably one of the most understandable views of the Irish resistance I have ever read. If I understood her, she says that the Irish must continue to resist just to let the British know that they have not been won over, despite the impossibility of pushing them out of the country.

This is one of those books where I had to copy down phrases and paragraphs that I want to savor and remember. Some are wise and some are just a colorful turn of phrase: "Toothwork ... was primitive in this pub. All around him were Draculas, Bugs Bunnies and hay rake grins..." And how about this: "O'Malley's was a Tudor face...The lower lip surprised. Normal in repose, it grew prehensile in action, shooting forward like an anteater's proboscis to scoop up prey. What the lip was geared to scoop were stray drops of liquor which it promptly funneled inside itself. Mobile as a second tongue, it looked as though it might be equipped with taste buds."

Certainly not a romanticized view of the Irish.

I very much enjoyed this book.

[David]

The novel contains virtually every Irish stereotype in the catalogue. Almost all the men are violent, alcoholic, misogynists. Almost all the women are silenced/ignored, by religion, threat, or actual violence. Perhaps that’s what makes Grainne and James somewhat attractive characters; neither is wholly free of the commonplace stereotypes, but neither is wholly contained within them either. I can't help thinking that the title, with its variation on Yeats, implies that Ireland is a country stuck in old ways. Yet a number of reviewers have suggested that O'Faolain, particularly given her own ancestry, is sympathetic to the IRA. Most of the IRA figures who appear in this novel, to me, are repulsive. If she intended to support them, for me, she failed miserably. It's just that the title, to me, implies criticism of those old ways. Contradicting that are the final pages of the plot in which one of the least attractive characters apparently succeeds in doing something that at least tangentially supports the agenda of the old ways, causing a lot of emotional pain en route--emotional pain which the narrative does not let us see; the story ends before the reader sees the consequences of that final major plot point. It seems that reaction to this novel greatly depends on whether we assume the author is saying "this is the way it is--what a tragedy," or saying "this is the way it is--old ways are the best ways, no matter who gets hurt or how." The time wavers between a c.1980s present and the days of the early 1920s, united by the figure of Judith--an older teen in the earlier time, and an Alzheimer's-battered nun, forced by closure of her convent back into a life in the world of the present. It is a story full of twists. None of the characters are really easy to like. The youngest generation seems to be on the way to repeating most of the errors of the previous two generations. Errors, as I see them. I am, as yet, unsure of the author's stance.

[Christopher Walthorne · Rating 4 out of 5]

A brilliant forgotten gem (recently republished in the UK by Faber Finds), this novel about the Republican movement in Ireland is a great look at a country marred by generational conflicts and disappointments. It may occasionally get bogged down in narrative cliché (extramarital affairs, parallel narratives that are a little too obvious) but for the most part this is an exquisitely written novel with a dark, bitter heart.

[Nick Garbutt · Rating 2 out of 5]

Julia O'Faolain is one of Ireland's forgotten writers. No Country for Young Men was nominated for the Booker prize in 1980 yet few will have heard of the book or its writer today.
Reading it was interesting from the perspective of working out why it is no longer feted. What struck me was more why O'Faolain became celebrated in the first place, the only reason I can think of is her justly famous father Sean who was a great short story writer.
This is ironic as No Country is one of those books that suffers from being stuffed with far too many words. They tumble off the pages like vomit.
A shorter version might have been more readable but it would still not have compensated for creating a tragedy where none of the protagonists were even remotely likeable.
The idea of the passing of the trauma of war and revolutionary fervour from one generation to the next was a strong theme, especially when recounted by an elderly nun on the verge of madness and O'Faolain writes vividly about Dublin in the days when Ireland was still poor and the city was in an advanced state of decay, but, harsh though this sounds it is hard to argue on the basis of this novel that O'Faolain has been neglected unfairly and deserves to be revived.

[Iva · Rating 4 out of 5]

Though nominated for the Booker, this 1980 novel, apparently out of print, shouldn't be. Its so rich, so clever, so well-written, with many memorable characters and absolutely great dialogue that I was thrilled to be reading it and happier that it was had been highly recommended by a reliable friend/reader. Ireland's struggles and "troubles" continue to haunt and the politics inform the characters' lives and actions. A particularly strong character is a nun with a secret going back to the 1920's. Particularly recommended for those who like Irish writers. This should be on the bookshelves with the others Irish writers.

[Maya · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was excited to read this book as I'm fascinated with all things to do with Ireland, the IRA, and The Troubles, and as it had been nominated for the Booker Prize, I was expecting some quality prose. Unfortunately, the reality was a murky, slow-paced, depressing and self absorbed novel. Every character is extremely unlikable and unsympathetic. Grainne is married to her cousin Michael, who is a drunkard who lost his beautiful singing voice in a tavern brawl; she has a brief affair with her other cousin Owen (a self-obsessed bully) before engaging in one with a married American journalist. Said American journalist is one James Duffy, who is in the midst of a state of ennui about life and longs for the former glory of his football days, before embarking on an affair with Grainne that awakens him to life again. He writes long-winded letters to his wife back home which are an impressive mix of self-pity and ego-stroking while pretending to be neither. Oh, and to top it all off, Michael was kicked out of school for anally raping a sheep. These are the delightful characters we get to read about for 300+ pages. The most likeable character is Michael and Grainne's 14-year old son Cormac, and that's probably only because he's not old enough to have become a complete twat yet. There is a somewhat interesting backstory involving their aged Aunt Judith, a nun confined to a convent for years because of a secret she knows that she now can't remember, a secret that could upset the reputations of powerful men. This story line is more interesting and engaging, but between it we have to endure long segments of two annoying and self-absorbed people having a midlife-crisis affair. The author seems to have a lurid imagination and enjoys using up pages on long and confusing ramblings about sex. This might be forgivable if she had more talent, but unfortunately that is not the case. For example : "A pair of albino dolphins, they nuzzled and bussed each other in imitation of childhood's imitation of sex"- the sentence continues for about a quarter page but I'll spare you the rest as that was painful enough. What on earth is "a pair of albino dolphins" supposed to mean? Is it because they're pale and Irish and writhing around in their lust like fish? That's the only meaning I can fathom, and I wish that I hadn't had to do so. About forty pages later we get this: "...my body is deliquescent, juicing, magnetized, mad to get back into bed with you and be nothing but an assembly of oozing, prehensile surfaces." Even typing this is making me cringe. As you can tell, the author is a fan of fancy words, as many to a sentence as possible. She particularly enjoys "mnemonic", which she uses three times in the book, which I have to question the necessity of. This sort of writing feels cramped and stuffy, lacking discernment and flow. This book took me a very long time to finish as I almost dreaded picking it up. By the end of the book, which was abrupt and bizarre, I was left feeling very glad to bid good riddance to the whole cast of characters. In short, I picked up the book expecting an exciting political/historical thriller, and instead was left with a poorly written, sordid account of unlikable people's depressing lives.

[Colin Davison · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the pleasures of hunting out Booker Prize short-listed novels is finding treasures by lesser-known authors like this from Julia O'Faolain.
At its heart is the Irish Civil War between terrorists and supporters of the Irish Free State in 1922 and its resonance for the Troubles in 1979.
The book has the quality of a political thriller, as the elderly and confused sister Judith, sent back to her family when her convent closes, is encouraged by an Irish American researcher to reveal a dark secret.
Mystery surrounds the fate of money sent illicitly from America, and about what happened the early Stateside sympathiser wary of furthering further violence for a completely independent Ireland.
It turns out that it was the uncompromising Judith herself who murdered him, and in a neat twist it is the fear of her recollection being made public, with disastrous consequences for continued funding by American sympathisers, that leads years later to a second murder.
The author had plenty of material to draw upon, in plotting her tale. Her father Sean, a short-story writer, made bombs for the Republicans, which her mother smuggled to the IRA.
Both strands of the story are interwoven with love motifs of bored women ready to leave their families for interlopers with the confidence and authority of America.
I was not entirely convinced by either relationship, the former largely to find a new freedom without any guarantees, the latter for better sex. But there are many compensations.
For O'Faolain has a fantastic gift for capturing Irish characteristics, a discipline from that short-story inheritance. One fat face is 'pallid and simmering like a milk pudding over a slow flame', a funfair attendant's nose is 'strawberry and his grin like an apple slice, only brown as though the apple had been sitting about on a plate', and the hapless Patsy has a cold creature of a Ma who looks at him 'as though he were a cake that hadn’t risen.'
The metaphors are original, outrageous and apt, like tea so strong 'a mouse could dance on it.' And what about this on men who drive big cars, in this case a Mercedes?
'It was like a portrait of Owen Roe himself. Like a desk or the horse part of a centaur, it clapped on to the man in charge and enlarged him.' I'll remember that.

[Karl · Rating 4 out of 5]

I probably shouldn't have liked this book as much as I did, but I read it right after Salman Rushdie's needlessly zany Midnight's Children, and found many of its subdued descriptions hilarious or at least entertaining to read. Opening the book at random, it's easy to find examples:

Dozens of times he'd been on the point of going after her - or perhaps not quite on the point. He tended to be tipsy when this looked viable and by the time he sobered up, it no longer did.

And another one

Studying his face in his morning mirror, James, seeing it with an Irish eye, perceived a blandness in it and a size and pallor suggesting that he had been raised on massive doses of Valium and milk.

And another

Patsy Flynn put on his best clothes. They were not very good.

Say what you will about the likeability of the characters or the struggles they go through, these kind of pithy descriptions make it impossible to hate a book. In my case, I also rather enjoyed the "love" story between two of the central characters, mainly because I could empathize (particularly with Grainne and her needs).

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting novel, set in Dublin, about generations of two Irish families, the O’Malleys and Clanceys, and how they are still coping with the aftermath of the 1920s Irish Civil War. It’s the 1970s and Sister Judith Clancy, in her 70s, has to leave the protection of her convent and return to her family. Sister Judith’s mind is deranged. She has a secret that occurred in 1922 when Americans had arrived in Dublin with cash to fund a possible uprising. James Duffy, an American, arrives to supposedly make a film about the 1920s Civil War. Some Irish locals are not happy with his questioning of Sister Judith, fearing it will bring up the past and cause damage to present families. Sister Judith comes to live with Michael, Grainne, and their fourteen year old son, Cormac. Grainne starts having an affair with James Duffy, who is married. Will Grainne leave Michael for James?

We learn about Sister Judith’s secret towards the end of the novel.

A compassionately written novel exploring memory, history, affairs of the heart and tricks of the mind.

This book was shortlisted for the 1980 Booker Prize.

[Avalanchian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Such a shame a well written, almost forgotten, gem of a book is not known more widely. Very well paced and with beautiful turns of phrase, three dimensional characters and plenty of intrigue to keep the pages turning. I thought it was grand.

[Michael · Rating 4 out of 5]

The historical material (i.e. the part set in the early 20th century) is very well done, beautifully written, intriguing, etc. The "modern" stuff, particularly the stories of James, Grainne, and Michael are less well done, downright clunky in fact.

[Donal O Suilleabhain · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a dull dour novel set in a grey miserable Ireland populated by stereotypes. Didn't enjoy and found it difficult to force myself to read.

[Lisa · Rating 2 out of 5]

Initially engaging with a very strong start and memorable, vivid characters, it suddenly began to fizzle out. Each page became harder to read, and I stopped caring.

[Stephen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Flashing between 1922 and the years down to the 1970s allows O'Faolain to explore inter-generational parallels, and restore dignity and agency to the electro-shocked nun whose own flashes of memory threaten to bring up old bones. O'Faolain's carefully and compellingly interwoven tale of deceits is possibly the best book of several I have read on The Troubles in the past couple of years (alongside J.G. Farrell, Elizabeth Bowen, and Jennifer Johnson's - all of which I rate).

[Thekirkiepirate · Rating 1 out of 5]

I came to this novel with high hopes, dealing as it did with linking the events around the Easter Rising with the more recent troubles.

It was a hugely disappointing book. The charaters were one dimensional and it was impossible to develop any empathy with them. Added to this, weak writing were some very disagreeable and sleezy sex scenes.

[Shane · Rating 2 out of 5]

A really unfortunately mediocre book that has glimpses of brilliance. Ireland in the 1920s and 1980s, reflected in its characters as a commentary on the modernisation of the free state, is told through a series of characters that are well developed. However, the writing is at times woeful (in particular the odd similes) and the concepts are never fully developed. The most important parts of the story are wasted and in the end the book is too long, relatively unimaginative and fades into nothing.