The Dark

by John McGahern

The Dark, widely acclaimed, yet infamously banned, is John McGahern’s sensitive, perceptive, and beautifully written portrayal of a young man’s coming-of-age in rural Ireland. Imaginative and introverted, the boy is successful in school, but bitterly confused by the guilt-inducing questions he endures from the priests who should be his venerated guides. His relationship with his bullying, bigoted, widowed father is similarly conflicted — touched with both deep love and carefully suppressed hatred. When he must leave home to further his education, their relationship is drawn to an emotional climax that teaches both father and son some of the most intricate truths about manhood.

Genres: Fiction, Irish Literature, Ireland, Classics, Banned Books, Literary Fiction, 20th Century

191 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1965

About the author

McGahern began his career as a schoolteacher at Scoil Eoin Báiste (Belgrove) primary school in Clontarf, Ireland, where, for a period, he taught the eminent academic Declan Kiberd before turning to writing full-time. McGahern's second novel 'The Dark' was banned in Ireland for its alleged pornographic content and implied clerical sexual abuse. In the controversy over this he was forced to resign his teaching post. He subsequently moved to England where he worked in a variety of jobs before returning to Ireland to live and work on a small farm in Fenagh in County Leitrim, located halfway between Ballinamore and Mohill. His third novel 'Amongst Women' was shortlisted for the 1990 Man Booker Prize.
He died from cancer in Dublin on March 30, 2006.

Reviews

[Jesse · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm not sure how I fell into the abusive Irish Catholic genre, but I think I might need a break from it for a while after this one. The Irish and the Catholics have combined here for a truly horrific story full of abuse, molestation, guilt (no one does guilt better than the Catholics), and general horribleness. It's bleak, dismal, depressing, claustrophobic, sad, and most of all, DARK.

I can't say I loved it. I can't say I hated it. It was ok. It was short and quick. I probably missed the deeper meaning that you're supposed to garnish out of McGaherns work, but that's pretty typical for me. I can't say I'd be thrilled to try any of his other works based on this showing, so I guess I'll just move on with my life.

[James Barker · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bristling with the threat of violence from the outset, the opening chapter is one of the most disturbing and claustrophobic I have read. The father in the book is a bitter man, his moods uneven and extreme, and as a consequence his children live in fear of him and punish him the only way they can- by shutting him out of their lives as much as possible. His feeling of isolation is something that compounds the misery within the farmhouse walls; it begets isolation in each of his kids, although the book concerns itself chiefly with the son's perspective. A prominent theme is the difficult relationship between father and son, and there is certainly a feeling that Mahoney (the father) is clinging to the strength of youth, and the power over his son, when it is slipping away. His son is strengthening as he himself is becoming older and tired. It is a power struggle that blights many father and son relationships at the time when sons become young men.

Beyond that, there is another struggle that McGahern is eager to recount: sanctity and its promise of eternal life battles the quick, hot promise of release from sexual need. One of the reasons this book was banned in Ireland is the author's suggestion that the line between sanctity and sex is blurred. Priests are meant to abandon life for life-in-death but in The Dark it is inferred that they are involved in sexual abuse. There is also the implication that Mahoney himself is abusing his son.

The journey within the book does include some resolution, an element of peace and forgiveness between the son and father. But the mid-twentieth century Ireland detailed in the book is a dark place rife with poverty and abuse, where the taint of childhood can never be absolved. A nervous child becomes an adult who lacks confidence in himself and his abilities. Darkness begets darkness.

[Conor Mcvarnock · Rating 5 out of 5]

I began reading The Dark for banned book week as it had been banned in Ireland and it is easy to see why the book made them uneasy. It is a bleak window into the world of the Irish adolescent male in the middle of the century in rural Ireland, its a story about a young man who in spite of the many things he has going for him, ends up crushed under the wheel of the society that bore him. It deals frankly with many controversial subjects, adolescent sexuality, parental abuse (it contains possibly the earliest depiction of sexual abuse by a parent in Irish literature), and ranks along side Kavanagh's The Great Hunger as a masterful depiction of the psychological damage Irish society and the Catholic church wrought on the human population that must have been dynamite when it was first published back in the 60s.

It captures the longing and frustration of the un-named protagonist and centres on his complex relationship with his father. The father is a very real depiction of an abusive parent, apparently based on McGaherns own father. It captures the double-bind relationship very well, the push-pull of the love/hate dichotomy between father and eldest son. One also gets a sense of the inner turmoil, conflicts and contradictions within the father himself and how these visit themselves on the protagonist. Women are largely absent from the narrative and mostly appear as idealised reflections of the narrators longing and fevered imaginings. The sole exception to this is the sister, Joan and the few flecks of light in the book are in the scenes between brother and sister.

Its written in a powerful, unrelenting style, mostly in the second person which gives it an immediacy and intimacy. It does sometimes break into the close third person, which alienates and disorientates the reader and reflects the protagonists own alienation with himself. Its a neat trick well played. The authors use of language is stark though some of the descriptions of places and scenes verge on the poetic, albeit a dark terse poetry.

Recommended for any readers of serious literature.

[Gearóid · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is probably the most intense and sad book I ever read.
From the very first page you are drawn into a really nasty
and uncomfortable scene which really sets the mood in a very
hard and upsetting way.
At this point you realise the title of the book is just perfect.

This book is not an easy book to read as it mostly tells of
the relationship between a tough,hard and abusive father and
his adolescent son.
But it is absolutely brilliant!!!!!
I have never read anything so powerful that left you with a lump
in your throat in numerous scenes.
At times you feel sad for the children living in the rain of terror
with there father but you also feel sad for the father who just
finds it difficult to be in any way happy.

It was just brilliantly written and i really think McGahern is one of the
Great Irish writers.

[Hux · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book opens with a boy, the protagonist, being potentially beaten with a leather belt by his father, Mahoney, before the father ultimately changes his mind, only whipping the chair instead. What a relief, you think to yourself only to keep reading whereupon you see the father get into the boy's bed at night and sexually molest him. Christ! McGahern really does pull the rug from under you in these opening chapters, harrassess and bludgeons you with some quite horrific family trauma. What follows is the story of this abused boy coming to terms with his desire to become a priest but simultaneously, and more urgently, his constant sexual urges for women (and the relentless need for masturbation which this inspires). 

It's certainly an interesting read but not entirely without flaws which somewhat reduced my enjoyment. Firstly, the book begins with a very standard third person narration but as it goes along, it switches, without much warning, to a second person narration. 'You woke up and got dressed. You spoke to the butcher.' etc. I've only ever encountered this before in Calvino's 'If On a Winter's Night a Traveller' and in that book it felt like a deliberate part of the gimmick he was selling. But here, it's simply a style utilised as a narration device on par with first person narration and it's mostly effective (but I'm not sure what it adds, if anything). That is to say you get used to it without ever really gaining much in the process. The only jarring part was the fact that he switched rather than started with second person from the very beginning. As a result, this forced its presence into the foreground more than it should have. The second issue I had with the book is that it's very dialogue heavy, a thing I don't always enjoy as it feels like it stutters the reading experience (at least for me). 

Overall, it was an intriguing novel with some dark themes which wallow in the Irish tradition of Catholic misery and abuse. The sister Joan is also being abused, the father does not get his come-uppance, and the church offers no meaningful solace. So yeah, a bleak novel of violence and traumatised formative adulthood. Hard to measure but ultimately a small novel that was easy to read but which never entirely held my attention. This is my first McGahern and while I wasn't overly impressed I found it compelling enough to want to read more of his work in the future. 

[Stephanie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I recently discovered the 20th century Irish writer John McGahern and was so stunned by the beauty of his writing that I sometimes stopped and read things over and over. Even today the book is shocking with its brutality and incest, but the journey of the boy and his wretched relationship with his insensitive father makes it remarkable. If I could, I would give it four and a half stars only because I disliked the ending; I wanted the boy to go another way. But that is what I wanted for him, not what he wanted....and I so wonder what happened to him when he walked off the page at the novel's end. I don't know if the author wrote more about that searching boy. I hope he found ordinary happiness and love.

[Doug · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'd never heard of McGahern, or this book, until it was favorably mentioned in my favorite book of the year (so far), John Boyne's brilliant 'The Heart's Invisible Furies' - and the fact it had been banned seemed immediately intriguing (presumably for a few iterations of the F-word, and the suggestion of father/son sexual abuse). In truth, the book is a fairly straightforward account of a young boy's maturing into young adulthood amongst the typical constraints of a rural Irish Catholic upbringing. Although there is nothing particularly noteworthy about such, the writing is terrific, and the book moves quickly towards its emotionally satisfying, although somewhat bleak, conclusion.

[Kevin Tole · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perhaps John McGahern should be better known outside of Ireland than he is – or maybe that’s my own assumption of his position. He is the quintessential writer of the Irish provincial experience and the growth from powerlessness to autonomy. You will struggle to find any presence of ‘The Troubles’ in his books – quickly scanning my memory I can’t think of one. But reading his work will give you the complete feeling of what it means to live and exist in Ireland ‘as it was’ before the Celtic Tiger took over and Brexit raised the issue of the common border with the north again – an issue that is relevant really to the co-existence with the North and therefore with the dis-United Kingdom.

‘The Dark’, published in 1965 was his second novel following on from the exceptional ‘The Barracks’. Its publication saw the first 460 copies impounded by the Irish Customs and the book banned by the Irish censors till 1974, thus becoming somewhat of a cause célèbre. McGahern himself did not want the issue pressed and was happy to let the book stand for itself despite Beckett offering to pay any legal fees that might entail from fighting the ban. What really offended both the Catholic Church and the Irish State was the open descriptions of masturbation and the taint of child abuse and sexual molestation that is hinted at throughout the book. It opens with an explosive chapter where F-U-C-K is spelt out and the boy is threatened with dread and physical violence by the father. It sets the tone for learning of the overbearing, bullying attitude of the father who is also not above using his son for sexual gratification. Up to then this was not explicit knowledge in Ireland. What happened in the home and in the establishments of the Catholic Church were private affairs. To make these acts public was a slap in the face to Irish society. And that is the real reason for the book’s banning especially when we come to the incident of the now-adolescent spending time with his uncle, the priest. Not only is there the suggestion that the priest is using his position for his own sexual gratification by climbing into bed with his nephew, but the ladling on of Catholic guilt with respect to masturbation makes the adolescent doubt his own worthiness for both the priesthood and for life in general. It questions the whole validity of the priesthood as the gateway to Belief and as the soldiers and policemen of the Catholic Church in Ireland. I hesitate to suggest it but there is a case to be made for the banning of this book to be part of the whole questioning of Ireland as a theocracy which took place between the 60s and 70s. The same themes run through Gerald Murnane's 'A Lifetime on Clouds' but Murnane deals with them far less darkly than McGahern does here. But then The Dark and its themes saw the book banned in Ireland whereas Murnane’s book is seen in its comical and fantastic treatment of the themes probably because Australia was far less dominated by the Catholic Church. These issues are covered well in Frank Shovlin’s editing of The Letters of John McGahern .

Beyond these issues, this is a book about a boy growing up in a multi-child, single parent, rural family (the mother has died). The writing is beautifully simple and powerful through its simplicity. The darkness is the threatening power of the Father and poverty. The boy’s escape is through study. The way forward for a poor, scholarship boy was seen to be through the priesthood. This is challenged by his guilt reinforced by the church and by the power of those higher up the chain to make or break the aims of a young man through their ‘words in the right ears’. Life is private and this is emphasised many times not least in the episode of the boy’s sister, Joan, when she leaves the family home for ‘service’ with another shopkeeper’s family in a provincial town made possible by the intercession of the uncle priest. Life there is ‘worse than the family’. And it comes out that she has been molested by the husband and is generally abused. The boy resolves immediately to take her home and it focuses his own resolution to leave the priest’s house, to not seek the priesthood and to return home whatever the consequences. This amounts to his second act of ‘rebellion’ – his first being to stand up to the father to stop him physically abusing his younger siblings. This conversation between Joan and her brother is important because it makes the private now public, to step into the world of adult themes, to no longer be in childhood, to seek to discuss the personal. This chapter is as crucial as the discussions of masturbation and sexual predation.

What is hinted at is that whole world of English Victorian Imperialism that permeated Ireland – a world that was about control and rule by a State of overarching power and, following independence from British control, a State that copied all the same power structures, and in cahoots with that State, the theocracy of the Catholic Church determined to hold the populace in check. This power is exemplified by the use of Sir Henry Newbolt ’s Play Up, Play Up and Play the Game as thorough an inculcation of Victorian public-school values as one might ever find. The Father believes in this hegemony of ‘pull’, yet the son’s behaviour hints at a new future of meritocracy. He believes that if you’re good enough, you’ll get the job. He is challenging the status quo as the book challenges throughout, against the power of hegemony of State and knowing your place, of the maintenance of privacy. It is the awakening recognition of the mutuality of their shared experiences that challenges this privacy not only within the family but in the State at large. The old world of status quo is shown starkly when the Father decides to gift two sacks of potatoes to Brother Benedict, the son’s Christian Brother teacher, before the son graduates. It is a conversation of class and complicity with the old values, of deference and acceptance of the world till then, the collapsing world of Woodbrook. And the arguments of Power and Control are neatly summed up as the examination and graduation approaches.

”My dear boys, you are on the threshold of life, a life that’ll end in death. Then the Judgement. All the joys and pleasure of life you yearn for now will have been just a passing bauble then. If you clutch at these now will they avail you anything in the only important moment in life, moment of death? On the other hand, if you give your life to God, and surely the priesthood is the gift outright, you can say that you kept nothing back. As your whole life was in God, so will your life be in death, and in the hereafter.”

Jam tomorrow. Or the eternal torment in the pit of Death. Maintenance of Power over life through the fear of Death.

”In the reality your life moved in the shade of a woman or death. Only the lifeless or blind fell for the lesser than these.

As the boy grows to adolescence he gains in self-knowledge and the ability to be reflective. His knowledge of self becomes reflective not just on himself but also on the family. His self-doubt is left behind in his knowledge that he has done all that he possibly could to attain the scholarship This eases his relationship with the Father and not only can accept him as he is but he is prepared to challenge gently what he sees. There comes to be a semblance of acceptance between them such that he looks to the Father for help but at the same time can be embarrassed by his gauchness and pride in the son's ability and scholarship. The Father in turn has a growing acceptance, even love, for his son.

So far this is the best McGahern I have read, both dark and at the same time with a hint of a future. I have no doubt that McGahern wrote it as a challenge to the Irish state of being and as such he paid for his impertinence by losing his job as a teacher and being forced to move abroad.

[Eric Sutton · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars

I loved this novel, a recommendation per Garth Greenwell that I couldn't find at my local library and ordered on a whim. There's something about Irish voices that just sing, even when speaking of dark subjects. Apparently the novel was banned in Ireland upon its publication. McGahern was way ahead of his time in documenting the sordid, bullying nature of provincial Irish priesthood. The Dark is about more than just that, however. The dark, in fact, is the metaphor for our young protagonist's life, his widowed father the bane of his existence and yet a powerful, formidable figure nonetheless, the dream of escaping him extinguished by an uncertain future with the Catholic Church.

It's a different coming-of-age novel in that the sense of discovery comes from latent desires so deeply suppressed rather than experiences rendered, revealing not only the power of family and church on rural individuals but the struggle for self-worth and identity when living under such constricting circumstances, wherein "failure" can be construed as victory, but only if one is brave enough to eschew convention. The extreme oppression of the dark is tightly-written. McGahern skillfully switches points of view to great effect without losing continuity.

The memorable character (for me) is the father, a highly-complex individual that reminds me of my own father: maddeningly frustrating to the point of abhorrence...and yet....and yet...he's your father, and deep down he's suffering himself, and haven't we had our good times together...? That line of logic. He's repugnant and concurrently extremely proud of his son, loyal to the Church while understanding its hypocrisy, forever complaining about his labors and the laziness of his children but always putting in the endless shift on their behalf. A paradoxical man of the most confusing sort, so damn confounding that even in adulthood you can't make heads or tails of it. I haven't seen an absent(present) father so well-depicted before. Terrible ones, sure, but nothing like this, where he toes the line - walks it even - but does just enough to keep you believing that it could get better. So Chapeau, McGahern. This one dredged up some discomfort, rattled the bones a little, which good fiction should do. Can't wait to read another.

[Mark Bailey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dark, powerful story of a young boy coming of age in rural Ireland. The boy’s mother is dead, his father is violent and short tempered, his numerous younger siblings are wanting, and poverty is ever looming.
As the boy grows older he grapples with thoughts of priesthood, thoughts of an ordinary life of lust and desire; and thoughts of an academic route - but the house is suffocating and escape for a better life seems improbable.
First time reading McGahern, but it’s easy to see why he’s so lauded by other prominent Irish writers. Plenty to get through as well so will definitely be reading more.

[AC · Rating 3 out of 5]

McGahern is a very well regarded, though not well-known, late Irish modernist. As others have said, the opening is extremely grim and even horrifying. The rest is simply grim and claustrophobic. McGahern could not have been a very happy man with such a tragic childhood. A serious book, not a very enjoyable read.

[Paul Clayton · Rating 5 out of 5]

I finished the acclaimed Irish novel, The Dark, by John McGahern, while on a vacation to Waikiki, Hawaii. And, yes, ‘tis (dark). The book begins with an enraged father forcing his young son to strip, then bend over a chair to await the sting of the belt, while his younger siblings watch in terror. It goes on a few chapters later to show the boy and father in bed together. Family members sharing a bed was not uncommon in the early part of the last century (nor is it today in economically-challenged countries. But on this night, the father was in a ‘loving’ mood. Later the book concludes with father and son sharing a bed in a rooming house when the father visits after the son has grown up and gone away to college. How can this be anything, but dark? That said, it’s a worthy read, compelling and illustrative of certain truths, one being that love, or something strangely resemblant, can and does exist between two people in an abusive relationship. Truth number two: while the previously-mentioned truth was probably common in olden times before people were exposed to the liberating influences of modern Freudian Psychology and its therapies, it is rare today, probably only existing in social backwaters and old cultures.

I found myself unable to leave The Dark’s tortured pages while in sunny Hawaii (I only had the final two chapters left to read). I’m not a sadist or a masochist, but the book is finely written and realistic, exposing the realities of some families’ lives that are often repressed, denied, or allowed to scar over. And there is the author’s Catholicism and my own (albeit, lapsed), and all its attendant guilt and fear. The ultimate authority figure in 1960’s Ireland (excepting God and the Pope), the priest, also abuses the POV character in an almost surreal scene bringing to life the power imbalance between cowed believers and venerated God-go betweens. The Dark so effectively depicted such things that it was banned in Catholic Ireland when it was published in 1965. I, for one, was never abused by the Catholic priests where I went to school, nor did I know of anyone who was. But, sadly, nowadays, tales of clerical abuse are so common they scarcely cause a yawn.

Finally I had ‘closure’ with the book. Yes, closure, because that’s one of the payoffs of good literature, especially good ‘dark’ literature. After pulling you into someone’s, or several someone’s’ lives and all their problems, we need resolution; we need a denouement. We get something like that here.

Why do we torture ourselves with this foolish human compulsion to hold onto the familiar if it’s less than perfect, or even dark. Why does The Dark’s young male protagonist respectfully listen to and honor his father, a man who bullied him for all twenty years of his life? Perhaps it’s because, along with the growing sense of our own immortality as we grow older, there’s a growing awareness of the fragility of our footprint, not the carbon one, but the real one, and the transitory aspect of our relationships. It’s all about legacy and influence. What remains of us after we’re gone? The ancients were obviously concerned about this, the wealthiest among them leaving behind the awe-inspiring pyramids and other mega structures. They knew that not much remains of a man or woman and his or her endeavors a hundred or so years after their passing. The things that remain the longest are the feelings and memories we leave behind in others who truly knew us and loved us. And, of course, in exceptional works of literarture. But these will fade in time as well. And McGahern’s The Dark illustrates this sad fact very well.

[Kusaimamekirai · Rating 5 out of 5]

John McGahern is one of those wonderful writers who while somewhat appreciated in their time, (his excellent novel “Against Women” was shortlisted for the Booker Prize) never achieved the fame they deserved.
“The Dark” is my second McGahern novel after “Amongst Women” and as the title aptly puts it, is very dark indeed. Much like in “Against Women”, one of the focal points of the novel is an overbearing, tyrannical, and abusive father, raising children on his own. In “Against Women the father figure was verbally and physically abusive, while here the father certainly is those things but there also lies a very unpleasant undercurrent of sexual abuse as well. The reader never knows the full extent of what happens between father and son but being as how the novel is told from the point of view of the oldest son, we have a pretty good idea and it is deeply unsettling. Layered on top of this is this abuse of his sister at the hands of an employer and the uncertain intentions of a local priest.
With all of this, it’s perhaps unsurprising that this novel was banned in Ireland soon after its release in 1965. And yet it would be a mistake to fixate only on the dark sexual and religious undertones here. At heart, this novel is really about a teenage boy struggling to escape from his father and his rural upbringing. It’s about his mental anguish as to whether to join the priesthood, go to University, or just disappear to England as so many young and lost Irishmen were doing at the time. Told from shifting perspectives (always told from the boy’s point of view but the narration often switches between “he” and “you” and “I”) the reader keenly feels the uncertainties and pressures of youth and the struggle to find your way in an often hostile world.

[Ryan · Rating 2 out of 5]

The shortest and least of McGahern's novels.

McGahern felt embarrassed by it ('written too quickly'), and was amused rather than outraged when the Irish Censor Board banned it. Less amusing was the Church's response which forced McGahern out of his job. When McGahern protested, officials were unsympathetic. The book alone might have been forgiven. But after marrying a woman in a registry office; worse, a foreign woman...

The novel is interesting on a purely technical level. It's largely dialogue with connective material kept to a minimum. Yet how it builds suspense, how deftly it takes you into its claustrophobic little world! The steely, non-intrusive style compliments the subject matter well.

Best read after tackling the other novels, especially his masterpiece Amongst Women.

[Conor Tuohy · Rating 5 out of 5]

The McGahaissance continues, read this in a day. You can judge its mood from the title.

Narrower, but no worse for it, than That They May Face the Rising Sun.

The same, strong introspective Catholic guilt in sexuality as is in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

Brutal in portraying the horrors the protagonist suffers physically and psychologically. Sublime regardless though, in those moments and the lighter ones.

He conveys such enormous sweeps of feeling and thought, paragraph to paragraph in pristinely simple words.

Sad that there are only three more of his to read.

[Rob Twinem · Rating 5 out of 5]

An ordinary life, an enclosed life, a life of servitude to family, to church a life of questionable morals, repressed sexuality, guilt, abuse that is The Dark by renowned Irish author John McGahern. Mahoney the father rules with a rod of iron and a belt of leather the story is told through the eyes of the eldest son in a harsh rural landscape where the only real arbiter is the Catholic church…..” In fear and shame you are moving to the death of having to describe the real face of your life to your God in his priest, and to beg forgiveness, and promise for there is still time.”.........” A priest could have no anguish, he’d given up happiness, his fixed life moving in the calm of certainty into its end, cursed by no earthly love or longing, all had been chosen years before”..... Lyrical, breathtaking, disturbing the story remains with you long after the final page. Highly recommended.

[Marcello S · Rating 2 out of 5]

A metà la mia aspettativa era che si trasformasse in un horror col padre che ammazza tutti e li fa morire proprio male. E come molte aspettative ha fatto quella fine là.

Niente da fare. [56/100]

[Florence Salmon · Rating 4 out of 5]

No way, the Catholic Church is packed full of perverts? This is shocking news.

Also, fucking DIABOLICAL use of second person narration!! Was like I was reliving my childhood all over again!! (John McGahern I will be invoicing you for my therapy bills)

[Caitlin Jenkins · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brutal, bleak, beautiful and ultimately, hopeful.

[Borbála]

A very fitting title. Most definitely not an easy read. Reminded me a lot of another of the author's books, Amongst Women.

[Rob · Rating 5 out of 5]

Its reputation overwhelmed by the Irish Church's initially successful campaign to have it banned, this second novel by John McGahern is a characteristically superb look at the various fault lines in Irish society acting on the choices of a talented young student from a poor family. The reason they banned it (when they could still do such things) was not just its spine-chilling scene of the father, Mahoney's, sexual abuse of his own son, but the clear-eyed way in which McGahern breaks down the easy route being offered by the Church to essentially hoodwink promising students at a moment of weakness or doubt. Presenting the priesthood as a death in life - admittedly also the skewed view of this young and sexually inexperienced adolescent - was guaranteed not to appeal much to the Church. The novel itself, though, is so well-written and so often disturbing that we are forced to question many facets of power and its uncertain dance over time.

There is an unblinking stare at the machinations of would-be father figures, but all the while allowing these embittered, rather venal, characters their humanity and their reasons. Without quite letting Mahoney off the hook, McGahern is able to present the man's frustration and cussed stubbornness as a wayward version of nobility that refuses to come into focus to turn this sort-of-man into a fully functioning man. The lack of a wife here (and in other novels by the same writer) is the obvious missing link, the atomic truth that allows the man to conjure all manner of conspiracies against himself, and to overvalue all his own acts so drastically. It hurts this lump to see true talent in his own son because it hurts him full stop, since it is a reflection of his own failure.

I like to think that the Irish Church understood the multifaceted intent behind this searing condemnation of self-righteous mediocrity and also feared the confident, searching beauty of its presentation. Like so many threatened inadequate males throughout history, the Church determined to snuff out the threat at its source. From our vantage point here, countless scandals later, with that selfsame institution doomed to wallow in shame for its treatment of women and children alike, The Dark is a bracing work of art which ends up celebrating humanity rather than simply denouncing the Satanic pirouettes of the antagonists dotting the path before us. It is all the stronger and more moving for understanding that the flawed humanity of these characters and institutions does not stop them from being human and for that humanity to somehow come out in the wash.

[A. Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

In this novel, McGahern shows a motherless family ruled by a violent narcissist. There is no counter to his demands, and the children are almost completely cowed. Mahoney's relationship with his son is disturbing, and the boy's development is a terrible slog. He studies to the exclusion of all else except his ordinary adolescent lusts, and is torn between his desire for a sensual life and his possible vocation in the priesthood. Everything is done with the goal of ending his dependence on his father, but near the end of the novel, this is complicated by the fact that the boy has very little experience with decision making. In some ways, this is the story of many adolescents, in terms of fear and guilt and shame, but it has the addition of harsh situations that most don't face. The book was banned in Ireland, and McGahern lost his job as a teacher.

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars. A coming of age story about a young man with six siblings, growing up on a small farm in country Ireland. His widower father is quite a brutal, harsh, hard working man who loses his temper frequently. The children live in fear of the sudden eruption of their father's temper. The writing style is plain, concise and well constructed. This is my fourth McGahern novel and whilst my favourite is Amongst Women, this, his second novel, is quite a powerful, realistic novel that reads like a memoir and is loosely based on McGahern's own upbringing. This short story, 191 pages, is highly recommended.

[Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

I found this a terrific evocation not just of a time and place and class in Ireland, but also of adolescence, its guilt, discoveries, ridiculously unbearable pressures. And of the complications of a relationship with an abusive father, and yet one who is frail and put upon himself. It was gripping; I basically read it in one sitting. I think I'll have to read it again; it was very interesting to me how the narrative shifted from third to second to first person and back again. I'd like to try to figure out how that works, what it does.

[Elaine · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's not a reading experience for everybody, but if you attempt it, it is eminently worthwhile and utterly unforgettable. This was quick, and riveting, and hard, and beautiful. Story of a boy becoming a man, as the oldest in a family held together by an angry and hurting widowed father. Who loves. But in a way that seems so backwards and thwarted to me. Very spare, and well told. With grace and sadness throughout.

[Maureen Grigsby · Rating 5 out of 5]

A short novel that evokes Ireland in the early 1960’s, when the Catholic Church still had a stranglehold on the island’s inhabitants, and a young boy just wants to find a piece of happiness in his world. Makes me want to read lots more of this author.

[Nadalkaz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Disturbing and extremely claustrophobic this isn't a comfortable read but it's brilliantly written with a shifting narrative structure that feels completely uncontrived.

[Maryjo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Poetic and Sad and Beautiful - an Irish sensibility

[Kirsten · Rating 5 out of 5]

In The dark erzählt John McGahern die Geschichte einer Jugend im Irland in er Mitte des letzten Jahrhunderts mit allen Aspekten: den Schönen, aber auch den weniger Schönen und der ständigen Kontrolle durch Gesellschaft und hauptsächlich die katholische Kirche.

Es ist keine schöne Kindheit, die der Protagonist auf der kleinen Farm der Familie erlebt. Die Mutter ist gestorben und der Vater wir immer mehr zum Tyrann. Ob er es erst durch den Tod der Mutter wurde, oder schon immer so war, erzählt der Autor nicht. Die Familie wird mit eiserner Hand geführt. Furcht und Gewalt, körperlich und seelisch, bestimmen den Alltag. Damit scheinen die Kinder aber besser damit zurecht zu kommen, als wenn sich der Vater wie ein normaler Vater benimmt. Wenn das passiert, ziehen alle die Köpfe ein und warten auf Ausbruch, der unweigerlich kommt.

Für den Sohn gibt es neben Anschreien und Prügel noch den sexuellen Missbrauch, der regelmäßig stattfindet und gegen den er nur wehren kann, indem er ihn erträgt und dann direkt in einen Teil seiner Seele verdrängt. Trotzdem gelingt es ihm, ein relativ normales Leben zu führen. Er ist sehr begabt und erringt sogar ein Stipendium, das ihm die Flucht von dem kleinen Hof ermöglicht.

Aber ganz entkommen kann er nicht. Nicht nur, dass er weitere Übergriffe durch einen Priester erleben muss, es scheint auch, als ob der Vater eine unsichtbare Fessel geschaffen hat, die ihn an sein altes Leben bindet. Und da sind auch noch die jüngeren Schwestern, die er beschützen will.

John McGahern zeichnet seine Charaktere nicht schwarz oder weiß, sondern in vielen verschiedenen Schattierungen. So ist auch der Vater nicht nur der Schläger, auch wenn das sicherlich sein Handeln nicht rechtfertigt.

Mich hat überrascht, wie deutlich John McGahern ge- und beschrieben hat, gerade was den Missbrauch betrifft. Aber auch die Gesellschaft der damaligen Zeit wurde eindrucksvoll beschrieben. Absolut lesenswert.

[Lizp · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a seriously dark book, no pun intended.

The book was originally published in 1965 and was banned in Ireland. Then again the most tame and innocuous books like Walter Macken’s were banned there because of the enormous, pernicious power of the Catholic Chirch.

It is the story of a clever young man, who is repressed by both the society he lives in ( ruled by an iron fist by a country where church and Caesar operated hand in glove) and by his sadistic, authoritarian widowed Dad. They live in rural Ireland in the late 1950s. It contains an element of parental sex abuse. Sadly the dad is based on the relationship McGahern had with his own Dad.

He studies hard at school as he wants to get away from his repressive surroundings. He is confused by his sexuality and lustful feelings. He feels lonely, alienated, frustrated, and isolated. He both loves and hates his violent and mercurial dad. At one point his confusion leads him to think he wants to be a priest.

The book is very well written and can be almost lyrical at times in its descriptions despite its darkness.

Women don’t really feature in the book apart from as creatures of fictitious longing on his part. Having said that there are some touching descriptions of the genuine affection existing between he and his sister, Joan. They try to shut the dad and his crushing ways out of their lives as much as possible.

McGahern was sacked from his teaching job after the book was published and banned, forcing him to flee to England. This book is powerfully written and is well worth reading, despite its bleakness and sadness in parts. I have read it a number of times over the years.