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MAD, BAD, DANGEROUS TO KNOW
An intimate study of three of Ireland's greatest writers from one of its best-loved contemporary voices
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'A father...is a necessary evil.' Stephen Dedalus in Ulysses
In Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know Colm Tóibín takes three of Ireland's greatest writers - Oscar Wilde, W.B. Yeats and James Joyce - and examines their earliest influences: their fathers. With his inimitable wit and sensitivity, Tóibín introduces us to Wilde Senior, the philandering doctor whose libel case prefigured that of his son; the elder Yeats, an impoverished artist who never finished a painting; and to John Stanislaus Joyce, the hard-drinking, storytelling father of James, who couldn't feed his own family. This is an illuminating study of how each of these men cast a long shadow not only over the lives of their famous sons, but over the works for which they are celebrated and cherished.
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'Astonishing to read. Tóibín has a hawk-like eye for literary subtleties, and a generosity towards his subjects that is warm' Sunday Times
'Funny, exciting, illuminating, wonderful, so engaging. Tells us more than a little about our own selves along the way' Irish Times
'There is something interesting and insightful on almost every page' Observer
'Sparkling, subtle, witty and often deeply moving . . . A classic' Fintan O'Toole, New Statesman
'Scintillating, imaginative, enlightening and powerfully moving throughout' Roy Foster, Spectator
__________________
'A father...is a necessary evil.' Stephen Dedalus in Ulysses
In Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know Colm Tóibín takes three of Ireland's greatest writers - Oscar Wilde, W.B. Yeats and James Joyce - and examines their earliest influences: their fathers. With his inimitable wit and sensitivity, Tóibín introduces us to Wilde Senior, the philandering doctor whose libel case prefigured that of his son; the elder Yeats, an impoverished artist who never finished a painting; and to John Stanislaus Joyce, the hard-drinking, storytelling father of James, who couldn't feed his own family. This is an illuminating study of how each of these men cast a long shadow not only over the lives of their famous sons, but over the works for which they are celebrated and cherished.
__________________
'Astonishing to read. Tóibín has a hawk-like eye for literary subtleties, and a generosity towards his subjects that is warm' Sunday Times
'Funny, exciting, illuminating, wonderful, so engaging. Tells us more than a little about our own selves along the way' Irish Times
'There is something interesting and insightful on almost every page' Observer
'Sparkling, subtle, witty and often deeply moving . . . A classic' Fintan O'Toole, New Statesman
'Scintillating, imaginative, enlightening and powerfully moving throughout' Roy Foster, Spectator
186 pages, Paperback
First published October 23, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 157 reviews
October 25, 2019
Fathers. They are complicated beasts. And the relationship between sons and their fathers is similarly complicated. And let’s face it – it can’t be easy being the father of a genius. So, the fathers of Wilde, Yeats and Joyce need more than just a spoonful of compassion. The one who comes out of this the worst for wear is Joyce’s dad. Perhaps the one that comes out the best is Wilde’s, but the one who seemed most interesting was certainly Yeats’.
Yeats’ dad is the painter equivalent to that character in The Plague who spends 20 years writing the first sentence of his ‘greatest ever’ French novel. I’ve always loved that character – Cottard, and that is something because I’m generally hopeless with names, which is part of the reason why my children have so many nicknames. Mr Yeats would spend all day painting and then he would spend the next day scrapping off the paint again and starting over. This meant paintings would literally never be finished. Not the best way to make a living out of your craft. Still, he could write a wonderful letter – and it is hard not to love someone who can write a great letter.
The bit of this that I found the most interesting, though, wasn’t about any of the fathers, but about Wilde himself sitting in Reading Gaol writing De Profundis. Or rather, not him writing it, but Tóibín sitting in the cell preparing to read almost the whole book. Even though he wasn’t sure how he should read it – what tone he should affect, or should he affect a tone at all, or is it possible to read without affecting a tone?
“Or should I try to find a real voice, a voice that urgently wanted to be believed or heard, or maybe even more importantly, a voice in the wilderness seeking to reestablish its own sound so that the speaker’s identity and sense of self, so crushed by solitude and prison rules, could find a space again…”
“But it was also written by an Irishman to an Englishman. And it was that last idea that gave me a clue about how to start speaking the words that Wilde had written.”
This is a seriously interesting wee book – and one that has been researched to within an inch of its life. Tóibín’s writing is always a joy to read, but this isn’t really like one of his novels. It is history, but still beautifully crafted and, more importantly, perhaps, told with a powerful ear of a true story-teller who brings his characters to life. Despite the title, you don’t come away hating any of these men, or fearing them, but this is certainly no hagiography, none of these fathers need have died in fear of being sainted.
This book also, and obviously, gives insights into the lives and works of their famous sons too – it is well worth the read.
Yeats’ dad is the painter equivalent to that character in The Plague who spends 20 years writing the first sentence of his ‘greatest ever’ French novel. I’ve always loved that character – Cottard, and that is something because I’m generally hopeless with names, which is part of the reason why my children have so many nicknames. Mr Yeats would spend all day painting and then he would spend the next day scrapping off the paint again and starting over. This meant paintings would literally never be finished. Not the best way to make a living out of your craft. Still, he could write a wonderful letter – and it is hard not to love someone who can write a great letter.
The bit of this that I found the most interesting, though, wasn’t about any of the fathers, but about Wilde himself sitting in Reading Gaol writing De Profundis. Or rather, not him writing it, but Tóibín sitting in the cell preparing to read almost the whole book. Even though he wasn’t sure how he should read it – what tone he should affect, or should he affect a tone at all, or is it possible to read without affecting a tone?
“Or should I try to find a real voice, a voice that urgently wanted to be believed or heard, or maybe even more importantly, a voice in the wilderness seeking to reestablish its own sound so that the speaker’s identity and sense of self, so crushed by solitude and prison rules, could find a space again…”
“But it was also written by an Irishman to an Englishman. And it was that last idea that gave me a clue about how to start speaking the words that Wilde had written.”
This is a seriously interesting wee book – and one that has been researched to within an inch of its life. Tóibín’s writing is always a joy to read, but this isn’t really like one of his novels. It is history, but still beautifully crafted and, more importantly, perhaps, told with a powerful ear of a true story-teller who brings his characters to life. Despite the title, you don’t come away hating any of these men, or fearing them, but this is certainly no hagiography, none of these fathers need have died in fear of being sainted.
This book also, and obviously, gives insights into the lives and works of their famous sons too – it is well worth the read.
August 8, 2019
Well, it's reassuring to know that Yeats' creepiness was hereditary.
April 6, 2020
If you're interested at all in Irish lit, this is SUCH a brilliant hidden gem. In this sort of offbeat biography, Tóibín digs into the lives of the fathers of Oscar Wilde, W.B. Yeats, and James Joyce, with an emphasis on their relationships with their respective sons. The book is divided pretty evenly into three sections and each has its strengths and weaknesses - I was most compelled by Joyce's, somewhat to my surprise - but for a book that changes trajectory three times it's reassuringly steady in its aims: humanizing these men, contextualizing the way they manifested into their sons' writing, and creating a textured portrait of the history of literary Dublin. (Also, I can HIGHLY recommend the audio - Tóibín has a fantastic voice and his rendition of Joyce's Ecce Puer was chilling.)
November 2, 2018
From BBC radio 4 - Book of the week:
The award winning writer Colm Tóibín reads from his new book about the fathers of Oscar Wilde, W. B. Yeats and James Joyce. In today's episode Tóibín takes a literary walk around Dublin, stopping off at a variety of landmarks immortalised in the works of some of Ireland's most famous writers. At the same time he reflects on his own writing life.
The award winning writer Colm Tóibín explores the complex relationships between three of Ireland's literary giants and their fathers From Oscar Wilde's polymath father who was a doctor specialising in diseases of the eye and ear; an amateur architect, as well as a statistician who was knighted for his work; to W.B. Yeats' father a brilliant correspondent and impoverish artist who struggled to complete a painting; to John Stanislaus Joyce, a drinker and story-teller who was unwilling to provide for his family.
Book of the Week looks at the lives of William Wilde and John B. Yeats and uncovers the ways in which their influence emerges in the works of their famous sons.
Episode 1 of 5
Colm Tóibín takes a literary walk around Dublin.
Episode 2 of 5
Colm Tóibín is in Oscar Wilde's cell at Reading gaol reflecting on the writer's father.
Episode 3 of 5
Colm Tóibín on two court cases, one involving William Wilde, the second his son, Oscar
Episode 4 of 5
Colm Tóibín turns his gaze to the life of John B Yeats, father of poet WB Yeats.
Episode 5 of 5
Colm Tóibín on the eternal youth of John B Yeats, father of literary giant WB Yeats.
Abridged by Richard Hamilton
Produced by Elizabeth Allard
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000...
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/bo...
The award winning writer Colm Tóibín reads from his new book about the fathers of Oscar Wilde, W. B. Yeats and James Joyce. In today's episode Tóibín takes a literary walk around Dublin, stopping off at a variety of landmarks immortalised in the works of some of Ireland's most famous writers. At the same time he reflects on his own writing life.
The award winning writer Colm Tóibín explores the complex relationships between three of Ireland's literary giants and their fathers From Oscar Wilde's polymath father who was a doctor specialising in diseases of the eye and ear; an amateur architect, as well as a statistician who was knighted for his work; to W.B. Yeats' father a brilliant correspondent and impoverish artist who struggled to complete a painting; to John Stanislaus Joyce, a drinker and story-teller who was unwilling to provide for his family.
Book of the Week looks at the lives of William Wilde and John B. Yeats and uncovers the ways in which their influence emerges in the works of their famous sons.
Episode 1 of 5
Colm Tóibín takes a literary walk around Dublin.
Episode 2 of 5
Colm Tóibín is in Oscar Wilde's cell at Reading gaol reflecting on the writer's father.
Episode 3 of 5
Colm Tóibín on two court cases, one involving William Wilde, the second his son, Oscar
Episode 4 of 5
Colm Tóibín turns his gaze to the life of John B Yeats, father of poet WB Yeats.
Episode 5 of 5
Colm Tóibín on the eternal youth of John B Yeats, father of literary giant WB Yeats.
Abridged by Richard Hamilton
Produced by Elizabeth Allard
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000...
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/bo...
November 22, 2018
This book had its origins in lectures given by the author at Emory University a little over one year ago, or November 2017. I was drawn to reading this book after reading review by author Adrian McKinty. I was richly rewarded by following this lead and highly recommend this book to all interested in Irish literature.
I could write a book enumerating all the nuggets of information and insights included in this scholarly effort, so I will not try.
I could write a book enumerating all the nuggets of information and insights included in this scholarly effort, so I will not try.
November 5, 2018
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000...Description: The award winning writer Colm Tóibín explores the complex relationships between three of Ireland's literary giants and their fathers From Oscar Wilde's polymath father who was a doctor specialising in diseases of the eye and ear; an amateur architect, as well as a statistician who was knighted for his work; to W.B. Yeats' father a brilliant correspondent and impoverish artist who struggled to complete a painting; to John Stanislaus Joyce, a drinker and story-teller who was unwilling to provide for his family.
1/5: In today's episode Tóibín takes a literary walk around Dublin, stopping off at a variety of landmarks immortalised in the works of some of Ireland's most famous writers. At the same time he reflects on his own writing life.2/5: Tóibín is in Oscar Wilde's cell at Reading gaol where he is reflecting on the life and influence of William Wilde, the great writer's father.3/5: William Wilde is engulfed in a court case which, strangely, foreshadows the famous trial which had such devastating consequences for his son, Oscar, some thirty years later.4/5: Tóibín's gaze turns to John B. Yeats, father of the literary giant, W.B. Yeats. It turns out that the brilliant conversationalist and impoverished artist was a source of exasperation, but also of inspiration to his son, and here Tóibín tells us why.5/5: Tóibín turns to the romantic and occasionally erotic correspondence between John B. Yeats and Rosa Butt, when the pair were in their sixties. He then reflects on the influence that the father's boyish romance had on the writings of his son, the literary giant W. B. Yeats.
1877 caricature of Queensberry in Vanity Fair.
Rosa Butt | John Butler Yeats | oil painting
August 13, 2018
You might expect that three great Irish writers, growing up in Dublin in the same era, might have some commonalities, some insight into genius or at least talent. Colm Toibin looks at their fathers in Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know to find that is as far from the truth as can be.
The writers are Oscar Wilde, William Butler Yeats and James Joyce. Their fathers were a knighted workaholic, an irresponsible, romantic dreamer and a horrific, spendthrift drunk, respectively.
Wilde’s father Will was precocious. By his mid-twenties he was not only a medical doctor, but an archaeologist, and a recognized statistician. His knighthood came from his reorganizing and managing the Irish census, way beyond requirements or expectations. He was always doing numerous things at once, and evenings were spent hosting the political, scientific and artistic glitterati of Europe at their home facing Merrion Park in Dublin.
Oscar Wilde, on the other hand, was better known as a clever guest at those kinds of soirées. His writing reflected none of the deep analysis and discipline his father routinely demonstrated. There appears to be little connection between them or their lives.
John Yeats was a lost soul. He wrote exceptionally good letters, but never published a shelf of books. He wanted to paint, and was so meticulous and demanding of himself that he never seemed to finish a canvas. He would scrape and repaint a landscape as the seasons changed. His self-portrait, his masterwork, took him seven years not to finish. An uninspired if not damaging father of four, he didn’t realize how blocked he was until he left Dublin for New York, late in life. He thought that the (horse) streetcars of New York were “the nearest thing to heaven on Earth he had ever known.” He believed himself “a formidable institution of higher learning in his own right”, and had little desire to expose his sons to competition. It was all about him.
William Butler Yeats was a much deeper thinker, and obviously, far more successful. Of his father he said: “Far more than any man I ever known he could live in the happiness of the passing moment. “
James Joyce’s father was such a negative inspiration, Toibin says, that Joyce would not have been blamed had he used the character of the abusive drunk in everything he ever wrote. But he didn’t. Instead, he says, Joyce inhabited the character and let him explore his life and universe, allowing him a much richer vibrant experience than the one he actually lived. James Joyce left quickly and managed to avoid returning to Dublin ever again, and never saw his father again. John Stanislaus Joyce inspired a lot of Ulysses in the character of Simon Dedalus (“The spittin’ image” of his father, Joyce declared).
Only Joyce employed his father in any involved sense. They all could be said to be relieved when their fathers were gone. Joyce, who had the hardest time with his father, wrote that he regretted their relationship after his son was born and his father had died. But his father provided a springboard to literary fame, along with that other wellspring of character, Dublin itself.
Toibin, no slouch in the interpretation of all things Irish himself, draws no hard conclusions. He did the research in original letters, leaving the reader to decide how the fathers affected the development of the sons. It’s a short book, but a neat and neatly executed concept.
David Wineberg
The writers are Oscar Wilde, William Butler Yeats and James Joyce. Their fathers were a knighted workaholic, an irresponsible, romantic dreamer and a horrific, spendthrift drunk, respectively.
Wilde’s father Will was precocious. By his mid-twenties he was not only a medical doctor, but an archaeologist, and a recognized statistician. His knighthood came from his reorganizing and managing the Irish census, way beyond requirements or expectations. He was always doing numerous things at once, and evenings were spent hosting the political, scientific and artistic glitterati of Europe at their home facing Merrion Park in Dublin.
Oscar Wilde, on the other hand, was better known as a clever guest at those kinds of soirées. His writing reflected none of the deep analysis and discipline his father routinely demonstrated. There appears to be little connection between them or their lives.
John Yeats was a lost soul. He wrote exceptionally good letters, but never published a shelf of books. He wanted to paint, and was so meticulous and demanding of himself that he never seemed to finish a canvas. He would scrape and repaint a landscape as the seasons changed. His self-portrait, his masterwork, took him seven years not to finish. An uninspired if not damaging father of four, he didn’t realize how blocked he was until he left Dublin for New York, late in life. He thought that the (horse) streetcars of New York were “the nearest thing to heaven on Earth he had ever known.” He believed himself “a formidable institution of higher learning in his own right”, and had little desire to expose his sons to competition. It was all about him.
William Butler Yeats was a much deeper thinker, and obviously, far more successful. Of his father he said: “Far more than any man I ever known he could live in the happiness of the passing moment. “
James Joyce’s father was such a negative inspiration, Toibin says, that Joyce would not have been blamed had he used the character of the abusive drunk in everything he ever wrote. But he didn’t. Instead, he says, Joyce inhabited the character and let him explore his life and universe, allowing him a much richer vibrant experience than the one he actually lived. James Joyce left quickly and managed to avoid returning to Dublin ever again, and never saw his father again. John Stanislaus Joyce inspired a lot of Ulysses in the character of Simon Dedalus (“The spittin’ image” of his father, Joyce declared).
Only Joyce employed his father in any involved sense. They all could be said to be relieved when their fathers were gone. Joyce, who had the hardest time with his father, wrote that he regretted their relationship after his son was born and his father had died. But his father provided a springboard to literary fame, along with that other wellspring of character, Dublin itself.
Toibin, no slouch in the interpretation of all things Irish himself, draws no hard conclusions. He did the research in original letters, leaving the reader to decide how the fathers affected the development of the sons. It’s a short book, but a neat and neatly executed concept.
David Wineberg
March 4, 2019
Once again I’ve made a mistake in understanding my own interests. I’m not sure what fooled me into thinking I would appreciate this book. It seems to be written for someone who is more than just passingly familiar with the works of Wilde, Yeats, and Joyce. I’ve enjoyed the handful of Wilde that I’ve read, but although I enjoyed “The Dead” and “A Portrait of an Artist as A Young Man,” I’ve never read Ulysses or Finnegan’s Wake. And frankly, I have no interest in the poetry of Yeats. Why would I even pick this up? Perhaps I thought that I would learn something interesting about Wilde, Yeats, and Joyce. But no, it’s really about their fathers, and the strained, or even antagonistic relationships between the fathers and their famous sons. It seems that Toibin believes that the dysfunctional relationships between the fathers and sons somehow stimulated the sons to become great artists.
I’m not sure that I completely accept the premise, but if great artists are cast only through the fiery crucible of traumatic childhoods, then I guess I can only hope that through love and grace I may deprive my sons of the opportunity to become great artists. I would prefer that they become good men rather than famous men. And furthermore, I am grateful that I was blessed with a godly father who was, and still is, a great example to admire and emulate.
I’m not sure that I completely accept the premise, but if great artists are cast only through the fiery crucible of traumatic childhoods, then I guess I can only hope that through love and grace I may deprive my sons of the opportunity to become great artists. I would prefer that they become good men rather than famous men. And furthermore, I am grateful that I was blessed with a godly father who was, and still is, a great example to admire and emulate.
January 2, 2019
Beautiful, compelling, and glowing throughout with the brilliance and humanity of the author and his subjects. I will reread this book and also return to the works of Wilde, Yeats, and, particularly, Joyce, whose father—I now know—lives and breathes in the pages of his novels.
December 19, 2020
Mad Bad and Dangerous to Know, the fathers of Wilde, Yeats and Joyce is, as you would expect from Colm Tóibín, beautifully written— but whether it’s a book for you might depend on how interested you are in Wilde, Yeats and Joyce.
Now I am an unabashed enthusiast for everything Joyce has written and you can find plenty of evidence for that in the hours of my life that I have spent not only reading his books as a student, but also blogging my adventures with Ulysses, with Finnegans Wake, and a reprise of my love of Dubliners. So I loved reading about the father of James Joyce, and his various manifestations in Ulysses, especially since Joyce had a generous view of his father’s undoubted failings.
By contrast, Stanilaus Joyce, James’ brother, has nothing good to say of his father’s fecklessness and abusive behaviour in his books My Brother’s Keeper (1958) and The Complete Dublin Diary of Stanislaus Joyce (1971).
But James Joyce was magnanimous, partly but not entirely because he was at a distance in Trieste. He wrote to his benefactor Harriet Weaver:
The chapter about Joyce’s father, despite his manifest faults, is a pleasure to read because Tóibín considers at some length the ways in which Joyce pays homage in his fiction to this flawed father.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/11/20/m...
Now I am an unabashed enthusiast for everything Joyce has written and you can find plenty of evidence for that in the hours of my life that I have spent not only reading his books as a student, but also blogging my adventures with Ulysses, with Finnegans Wake, and a reprise of my love of Dubliners. So I loved reading about the father of James Joyce, and his various manifestations in Ulysses, especially since Joyce had a generous view of his father’s undoubted failings.
By contrast, Stanilaus Joyce, James’ brother, has nothing good to say of his father’s fecklessness and abusive behaviour in his books My Brother’s Keeper (1958) and The Complete Dublin Diary of Stanislaus Joyce (1971).
My father was still in his early forties, a man who had received a university education and had never known a day’s illness. But though he had a large family of young children, he was quite unburdened by any sense of responsibility towards them. His pension, which could have taken in part the place of the property he had lost and been a substantial addition to an earned income, became his and our only means of subsistence. (p.166)
He is domineering and quarrelsome and has in an unusual degree that low, voluble abusiveness characteristic of Cork people when drunk… He is lying and hypocritical. He regards himself as the victim of circumstances and pays himself with words. His will is dissipated and his intellect besotted, and he has become a crazy drunkard. He is spiteful like all drunkards who are thwarted, and invents the most cowardly insults that a scandalous mind and a naturally derisive tongue can suggest. (p. 167)
But James Joyce was magnanimous, partly but not entirely because he was at a distance in Trieste. He wrote to his benefactor Harriet Weaver:
I was very fond of him always, being a sinner myself, and even liked his faults. Hundreds of pages and scores of characters in my books came from him… I got from him his portraits, a waistcoat, a good tenor voice, and an extravagant licentious disposition (out of which, however, the greater part of any talent I may have springs) but, apart from these, something else I cannot define. (p.173.)
The chapter about Joyce’s father, despite his manifest faults, is a pleasure to read because Tóibín considers at some length the ways in which Joyce pays homage in his fiction to this flawed father.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2018/11/20/m...
January 4, 2019
This book was conceived by Toibin after giving a series of well-received lectures on the topic of the father and son relationships of Wilde, Yeats and Joyce. I have to admit, it was the title that drew me in to reading it. This book is extremely well researched with quotes and letters annotated on just about every page. That detail made the book seem to be more of a college thesis paper rather than a typical book of non-fiction. That being said, these fathers were an odd bunch and their stories would typify a Lifetime Channel movie. This book has it all..it is the story of stalkers, of libel court cases, of drunken cruelty, of moochers, of delusions of grandeur, of strange infatuations and of infidelity but it is NOT the story of pride in the accomplishments of their own children (although the "children" had their own issues!).
July 11, 2019
"This book is making me tired," I told my husband last night, "but that's okay because I'm ready for bed." Ordinarily I adore Tóibín--I've even learned how to pronounce his name--but this reads like a string of anecdotes, some amusing, others that must have held significance for Tóibín (toy-bean) but come off as self-indulgent. I'm going back to read his Homage to Barcelona to erase the traces of this one.
Read
July 30, 2019Enjoyable!
September 2, 2018
If you love Irish literature and history, you are sure to love this book. Colm Tóibín's newest book is a compilation based on lectures he gave on the topic of three literary giants' fathers and families. Tóibín delves into the lineage of Oscar Wilde, James Joyce, and W. B. Yeats and paints a picture of 19th century Dublin through their fathers.
Tóibín's analyses are engagingly written and researched to give an enigmatic, full portrayal of artistic life in Dublin. William Wilde, John Stanislaus Joyce, and John Butler Yeats come alive in this book as Tóibín delves into their triumphs and failings. These men have their own professional and artistic wonders, which are allowed to shine. Further, the author shows the interaction between father and son, and how the son's work was shaped by their particular upbringing.
A truly fascinating read, and highly recommended to fans of Wilde, Joyce, and Yeats, and fans of engaging history.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing an e-copy of this book for review. All opinions are my own.
Tóibín's analyses are engagingly written and researched to give an enigmatic, full portrayal of artistic life in Dublin. William Wilde, John Stanislaus Joyce, and John Butler Yeats come alive in this book as Tóibín delves into their triumphs and failings. These men have their own professional and artistic wonders, which are allowed to shine. Further, the author shows the interaction between father and son, and how the son's work was shaped by their particular upbringing.
A truly fascinating read, and highly recommended to fans of Wilde, Joyce, and Yeats, and fans of engaging history.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing an e-copy of this book for review. All opinions are my own.
December 31, 2018
I found this book utterly fascinating. It made me want to visit Dublin again. I understand so much more about the writers by getting to know their fathers. I understand why Oscar Wilde acted the way he did in his trial (that his arrogant brilliance left him above the law) and that trial of course led to his imprisonment and early death. So much of the way we are in life depends on how we are shown to be or taught to be in our families. Dublin is a major character in this book, seething with brilliance in its small streets.
November 22, 2018
This is really a series of lectures and more is the pity that my knowledge of the subject was not broad, nor deep enough to appreciate Toibin’s writing. Set in Dublin there is an expectation that the reader will be familiar with streets, people and events. Unfortunately I lack the knowledge and after fumbling through while I could appreciate the wry humor Toibin’s insight was lost on me.
Thank you NetGalley and Scribner for a copy
Thank you NetGalley and Scribner for a copy
February 21, 2019
Picked this book up in the library. I have always enjoyed Irish literature and finding out about the fathers and their influences on James Joyce, Oscar Wilde and Y.B Yeats. It was a fascinating insight with Wilde’s father William a successful doctor, archeologist and statistician. Years father an unsuccessful artist in his lifetime and Joyce’s father a larger than life character who Joyce used throughout his books.
Well worth a read.
Well worth a read.
November 26, 2018
Loved this hugely ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
October 18, 2023
Weird, bad, did not need to know. There was a lot of weird stuff with John Yeats that I felt did not need to be meditated on. Also, all these postmodernist writers did not have great relationships with their fathers which makes so much sense as to why they reject religion and especially The Father, trying to heal themselves through their words rather than entering into relationship with God. Proof of how much father relationships can wound us and cause us to project our human experiences onto God.
October 29, 2018
Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know is a fascinating read for anyone who enjoys the works of Wilde, Yeats and Joyce. Tóibín casts a keen eye over the figures of their fathers, offering us a biography of their lives and a close look at the influence they exerted over their famous sons, whether personal or literary. At under 200 pages, it is a quick little read, but no less insightful for its brevity. I also learnt a few things I hadn't known about Ireland in the Victorian era. This is probably not going to mean so much to those unfamiliar with Wilde, Yeats and Joyce; however, for the established fans, this work offers an interesting 'behind-the-scenes' glimpse at their lives and influences.
I received this book as a free ARC from the publisher.
I received this book as a free ARC from the publisher.
May 23, 2019
I picked up this book because of the author, not the subject. I know little about Irish authors. Wilde and Yeats I only read in college, decades ago and then probably only summarily. And I have just started to read James Joyce. But Toibin I have read and he always engages and informs.
Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know is a slender volume. But Toibin’s reflections on the fathers of Wilde, Yeats and Joyce—which are intermeshed with insights into their sons and their times—will captivate even those only vaguely familiar with the Irish literary world.
In a short introduction, Toibin walks through Dublin, guiding the reader to locations of historical interest, meaningful to his literary trinity.
Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know is a slender volume. But Toibin’s reflections on the fathers of Wilde, Yeats and Joyce—which are intermeshed with insights into their sons and their times—will captivate even those only vaguely familiar with the Irish literary world.
In a short introduction, Toibin walks through Dublin, guiding the reader to locations of historical interest, meaningful to his literary trinity.
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November 15, 2018This is very good. I was particularly interested in Yeats and especially Wilde. I'm not a big Joyce fan, although i am sure i am missing something :)
i was amused about their various "dabblings" in archaeology, which sounded mostly historic. Why i didn't know that Yeats lived in and loved New York city is beyond me. It made me smile. He loved the crowds and the movement of humanity. He never went home and never saw his children again.
i was amused about their various "dabblings" in archaeology, which sounded mostly historic. Why i didn't know that Yeats lived in and loved New York city is beyond me. It made me smile. He loved the crowds and the movement of humanity. He never went home and never saw his children again.
November 12, 2018
A well written, interesting and enjoyable exploration of the relationships between three “colorful” Irish fathers and their more famous sons. There are moments of brilliance, but some slow bits as well. For example, much more time was spent describing Yeats’s father’s years in New York and long distance romance than seemed necessary to me.
December 20, 2018
Lovely and lucid. At first the premise seemed a little forced - the various fathers, though all flawed figures, seemed flawed in different ways, with sons who had dfferent reactions. (Joyce seemed the most forgiving, at least in a literary sense). But it's all told elegantly, and the parental dramas, and coping mechanisms of the descendants, draw you in
April 27, 2019
I was seduced by the title and the concept of how three Dublin fathers of the same era influenced their famous sons— Oscar Wilde, W.B. Yeats, and James Joyce. Expecting a comparative biography, however, I instead found a series of impressionistic portraits which do not clearly fulfill what the book promises.
November 17, 2018
Enlightening! Written about the lives of three authors (W.B. Yeats, Oscar Wilde, James Joyce) and their fathers.
My favorite was the "chapter" on James Joyce and John Stanislaus Joyce. Now, after all these years, I plan to tackle Ulysses.
My favorite was the "chapter" on James Joyce and John Stanislaus Joyce. Now, after all these years, I plan to tackle Ulysses.
November 2, 2018
Interesting approach to understanding the three better known artists through focus on their fathers.
March 2, 2019
Excellent finish. I’m ready to read some Joyce, Wilde, and Yeats. Transport to Dublin would be welcome as well!
April 14, 2022
I love this author and am always impressed with his talent. This was a good book but it’s no substitute for an Ellmann biography.
December 22, 2018
Review title: Portraits of the fathers of tortured sons of Dublin
Like the trope of the sad comedian and the crying clown, the tortured artist is a stereotype sometimes proven by the reality. And in Dublin, a city where fantasy and history seem to blend seamlessly, life can be a tortured reality especially for these three sons of the city. Oscar Wilde, William B. Yeats, and James Joyce are among the literary giants of the 19th and early 20th century, and all were raised within a few blocks and a few years of each other in the city of Dublin. Toibin, a modern Dublin author, has written this short joint biography of the three authors' fathers as a way to provide insight into the origins of the talent of their famous sons.
Sir William Wilde (the title was Irish, not British) was one of those 19th century polymaths who seemed never to sleep--a doctor who established the first Irish eye and ear hospital, an archeologist, an Irish antiquarian, a census statistician whose 40-year career included compiling the vital mortality statistics of the Potato Famine, an author whose first published book was a travel book about a voyage around the Mediterranean. Never wealthy, he and his wife, an Irish revolutionary in her younger years who proudly preferred to be called by the honorific Lady Jane after her husband was knighted, bridged radical Irish independence and Victorian respectability with a certain shabby chic. Son Oscar came by his insouciance and free-flowing wit honestly.
The elder Yeats was trained in the law but aspired to art and followed his dream, albeit with little financial or artistic recognition. He earned a reputation as a painter who would only paint subjects he liked even when a lucrative commission was at stake, and as a painter who could never finish a painting because of his attempt at perfection. His relationship with his wife was always strained, spilling over into sometimes contentious relations with their children, and after his wife died he went to New York in search of a commission with one of his daughters in 1907, he never returned to Dublin in his remaining 15 years. Toibin concludes that W. B. Yeats became a fastidious finisher of what he started in opposition to his father's failures to finish.
And then there was John Stanislaus Joyce. While Toibin devotes the least number of pages to the fraught relation between he and his most famous son, it is perhaps only because the younger Joyce had already fileted that relationship with the tip of his pen in his deep and dark ramble though Dublin, Ulysses. What else is there left for anyone to really say? Father Joyce was a drunk, sometimes violent when at his worst; Toibin recounts an incident when he grabbed his wife by the throat with the growled threat to end her life which was only redeemed when the children separated them and one--not James--jumped him from behind in a choke hold that brought him down. When he lost his government job in his mid 40s because of poor performance and political policy changes, the parents and their 10 children began a spiral down through the ranks of economic and social status to smaller and dingier lodgings one step ahead of cheated and outraged landlords. Unlike the Yeats family, it was the younger Joyce who vacated Dublin to remove himself from the nightmarish family scenes, only to exorcise them most explicitly in his books.
Dublin is a beautiful city. I have spent a total of four months working there in the last few years, and have walked many of the streets Wilde, Yeats, and Joyce walked. The Irish countryside, culture, and people are rich in history, tradition, language, and humor. It has bred a disproportionate number of great artists in all forms and formats. Not all of them suffered as much for their art, or lived as much of their art as these three writers. It isn't always pleasant reading but Toibin has shown how the sons reflected or refracted the uniquely beautiful Irish light that shown through their fathers' portraits.
Like the trope of the sad comedian and the crying clown, the tortured artist is a stereotype sometimes proven by the reality. And in Dublin, a city where fantasy and history seem to blend seamlessly, life can be a tortured reality especially for these three sons of the city. Oscar Wilde, William B. Yeats, and James Joyce are among the literary giants of the 19th and early 20th century, and all were raised within a few blocks and a few years of each other in the city of Dublin. Toibin, a modern Dublin author, has written this short joint biography of the three authors' fathers as a way to provide insight into the origins of the talent of their famous sons.
Sir William Wilde (the title was Irish, not British) was one of those 19th century polymaths who seemed never to sleep--a doctor who established the first Irish eye and ear hospital, an archeologist, an Irish antiquarian, a census statistician whose 40-year career included compiling the vital mortality statistics of the Potato Famine, an author whose first published book was a travel book about a voyage around the Mediterranean. Never wealthy, he and his wife, an Irish revolutionary in her younger years who proudly preferred to be called by the honorific Lady Jane after her husband was knighted, bridged radical Irish independence and Victorian respectability with a certain shabby chic. Son Oscar came by his insouciance and free-flowing wit honestly.
The elder Yeats was trained in the law but aspired to art and followed his dream, albeit with little financial or artistic recognition. He earned a reputation as a painter who would only paint subjects he liked even when a lucrative commission was at stake, and as a painter who could never finish a painting because of his attempt at perfection. His relationship with his wife was always strained, spilling over into sometimes contentious relations with their children, and after his wife died he went to New York in search of a commission with one of his daughters in 1907, he never returned to Dublin in his remaining 15 years. Toibin concludes that W. B. Yeats became a fastidious finisher of what he started in opposition to his father's failures to finish.
And then there was John Stanislaus Joyce. While Toibin devotes the least number of pages to the fraught relation between he and his most famous son, it is perhaps only because the younger Joyce had already fileted that relationship with the tip of his pen in his deep and dark ramble though Dublin, Ulysses. What else is there left for anyone to really say? Father Joyce was a drunk, sometimes violent when at his worst; Toibin recounts an incident when he grabbed his wife by the throat with the growled threat to end her life which was only redeemed when the children separated them and one--not James--jumped him from behind in a choke hold that brought him down. When he lost his government job in his mid 40s because of poor performance and political policy changes, the parents and their 10 children began a spiral down through the ranks of economic and social status to smaller and dingier lodgings one step ahead of cheated and outraged landlords. Unlike the Yeats family, it was the younger Joyce who vacated Dublin to remove himself from the nightmarish family scenes, only to exorcise them most explicitly in his books.
Dublin is a beautiful city. I have spent a total of four months working there in the last few years, and have walked many of the streets Wilde, Yeats, and Joyce walked. The Irish countryside, culture, and people are rich in history, tradition, language, and humor. It has bred a disproportionate number of great artists in all forms and formats. Not all of them suffered as much for their art, or lived as much of their art as these three writers. It isn't always pleasant reading but Toibin has shown how the sons reflected or refracted the uniquely beautiful Irish light that shown through their fathers' portraits.
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