Eleven stories tell of a sword swallower, a lonely old lady who writes letters to herself, a retired policeman, a parish priest, a shy young boy, and a famous architect and his son
Bernard MacLaverty was born in Belfast in 1942 and lived there until 1975 when he moved to Scotland with his wife, Madeline, and four children. He has been a Medical Laboratory Technician, a mature student, a teacher of English and, for two years in the mid eighties, Writer-in-Residence at the University of Aberdeen.
After living for a time in Edinburgh and the Isle of Islay he now lives in Glasgow. He is a member of Aosdana in Ireland and is Visiting Writer/Professor at the University of Strathclyde.
Currently he is employed as a teacher of creative writing on a postgraduate course in prose fiction run by the Research Institute of Irish and Scottish Studies at the University of Aberdeen.
He has published five collections of short stories and four novels. He has written versions of his fiction for other media - radio plays, television plays, screenplays. Recently he wrote and directed a short film 'Bye-Child'
After enjoying MacLaverty’s Midwinter Break, I picked up one of his collections of short stories from Book-Cycle in Exeter last month. Most of these 11 stories are about lonely people forming unexpected connections. A struggling artist and a friendless widow bond over an Emily Dickinson passage in “Words the Happy Say,” a publisher sympathizes with his friend’s partner’s situation on a holiday in Switzerland in “In the Hills above Lugano,” spinster sisters encounter one of their former B&B guests in “End of Season,” and a retired police officer feels for a troubled young musician in “Across the Street.” My two favorites were “More than just the Disease,” in which a cat-loving duchess convinces a boy to get over his shame about his psoriasis and just go swimming, and “Death of a Parish Priest.”
The cover image is Matisse’s drawing of a sword swallower; the title story imagines the performer who might have inspired it. For, though he’s now reduced to performing for drunken students, the Great Profundo has hidden depths – just as his name suggests. This collection was published in 1987 but doesn’t feel dated. Given MacLaverty’s background, it’s not surprising that Christianity and Ireland are recurring elements in the stories. These are short enough that you can read one or two in a sitting. Recommended to readers of Julian Barnes and Margaret Drabble.
On the fringes of society, the characters of Bernard MacLaverty’s stories are forced to seek consolation as best as they can, from the deserted windswept coast of a troubled Ireland to the sun-drenched landscapes of Portugal. With deep compassion and gentle irony, Bernard MacLaverty portrays the insecurity and flickering hope of the afflicted and estranged. At the time of publication this short collection was praised by amongst others:
The Sunday Press: 'Mr MacLaverty grows in strength with each succeeding book… He is the master of the small, telling phrase, or the perfect line of description. His sense of place is always authentic, his dialogue pitched so naturally that one can hear it. In short, he’s a wonder.'
Tom Adair in The Scotsman: '...our shrewdest and most sensitive explorer of the inwardness of lives.'
Jean Gordon in Vogue:' These are finely-spun, powerful and compassionate stories. MacLaverty writes with a focused and penetrating intensity, his prose arrestingly simple.'
The Good Book Guide: 'We’re in the hands of a master here… peerless short fiction… MacLaverty writes the way most people breathe - easily, deeply, like it was the most life-affirming activity in the world.'
Why has it taken me so long to read this exceptionally fine writer? He is superb and if you love the short story as practised by writers live William Trevor then you must read Mac Laverty (the correct way to write his surname).
A really strong story collection. This is my first time reading MacLaverty—he reminds me of William Trevor (one of my favorites) but more modern and maybe more urban. I rarely give story collections five stars (other than classics like The Neon Wilderness, The Murphy Stories, and Dubliners), because the stories usually blur together in my mind. I come away with more mood and tone than anything else, and for me a five star book is one that sticks with me for a long time. And at least three of these stories—“End of Season”, “Across the Street”, and “Death of a Parish Priest”—will stick with me.
High 3. In this collection, MacLaverty captures the beauty inherent within the lives of those who never capture the limelight, thereby bringing to life the verse of Emily Dickinson which provides the title for the opening tale:
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful -
I enjoyed these short stories and found myself wanting to read more of them. He has a bleak view of religious people though (featured in two stories), and “In the Hills Above Lugano” is pretty sensual. I don't remember which story was my favorite.