The Dregs of the Day

by Máirtín Ó Cadhain, Alan Titley (Translator)

A riveting English translation the Irish classic tale of heartache, death, and loneliness by the beloved author of The Dirty Dust

The final published work by the renowned Máirtín Ó Cadhain, this novella follows a widower as he attempts to plan his wife’s funeral arrangements without money, direction, or whiskey. Thrown into a desert of unknowing, he knows not where to turn or what to do. In a poignant meditation on regret, possibilities, maybes, and avoidances, the author portrays a man hopelessly watching as the people in the world go about their lives around him. With black humor sprinkled throughout, the book, a profound look at psychic loss and puzzlement by a writer at the height of his powers, illustrates Ó Cadhain’s conviction that tragedy and comedy are inextricably connected.

Bringing this work to an English-speaking audience for the first time, this volume includes an illuminating introduction by Alan Titley, whose skillful translation captures the spirit and tone of the original.

Genres: Fiction, Irish Literature, Ireland, Literature, Novels

160 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2019

About the author

Máirtín Ó Cadhain (1906 – 18 October 1970) was one of the most prominent Irish language writers of the twentieth century.

Máirtín Ó Cadhain was born in Cois Fharraige in the Connamara Gaeltacht in 1906. He is best known for his major novel, Cré na Cille (Dublin, Sáirséal agus Dill, 1949). It has been translated into English as Graveyard Clay, and into many other languages, including Danish and Norwegian. However, it was not published in English until 2015.

His short story collections include Idir Shúgradh agus Dáiríre, 1939, and An Braon Broghach, 1948, from which Eoghan Ó Tuairisc translated stories published under the title Road to Bright City (Dublin, Poolbeg Press, 1981); An tSraith ar Lár, (1967); and An tSraith Dhá Thógáil (1970).

A national school teacher in his early life, he was interned for his activities in the IRA during World War II. He became a lecturer in Irish in Trinity College Dublin in 1956, and became Professor of Irish there in 1969.

He died in 1970.

Reviews

[Sue · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Dregs of the Day, translated from Irish, is the last published work from Máirtín O’ Cadhain before his death in 1970. This relatively short tale, of novella length, reflects a tortuous weekend in the life of one man, N., as he leaves his house planning to arrange for the funeral of his wife who has just died at home. Her sisters are there, a Greek chorus sending him on his way. And on his way he goes, well, sort of!

As I was reading, I found myself reminded of Joyce’s Ulysses and that amazing ramble around the city of Dublin. Here, O’Cadhain gives us some similar moments in a smaller setting. There are conversations or internal monologues on religion, God or god, police, the state, work, drink and Drinking, and of course women and sex. Some crude drunken moments are balanced by moments of beauty. Irish philosophizing of all kinds abound.

All in all, this was a very interesting and enjoyable read that I recommend to anyone interested in Irish literature. I’m very glad that I have had the opportunity to read this book.

A copy of this book was provided by the publisher through NetGalley in return for an honest review.

[Dave · Rating 4 out of 5]

During this short novella there were moments of brilliance. It is the story of N, a man who should be focused on burying his recently deceased wife, bit instead wanders around town getting into shenanigans, and overcoming adversity, all the while worrying about money. I would definitely recommend to anyone who enjoys Irish literature. Thank you to the publisher for providing me with this arc available through netgalley.

[Bonnye Reed · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received an electronic copy of this short novel from Netgalley, the estate of Mairtin O Cadhain, and Yale University Press. Thank you all for sharing your hard work with me. I have read this historical novel of my own volition and this review reflects my personal opinion of this work.

I enjoyed this ramble through the mind of N. and the streets of Ireland. We follow N. as he attempts to bring order to his world immediately following the death of his wife. We have all been there at one time or another - that world where thoughts die in mid-understanding, our reality is not able to catch up with our moment in time, our friends and neighbors are speaking gobbly-gook our mind keeps crying for sleep. Mairtin O Cadhain takes us there very well. Thank you, Alan Titley, for bringing this work to English speaking readers.
Reviewed on October 18, 2019, at Goodreads, Netgalley, AmazonSmile, Barnes & Noble, BookBub, Kobo, and GooglePlay.
CHANGE TO
pub date Sept 24, 2019
rec August 30, 2019
Yale University Press

[None Ofyourbusiness Loves Israel · Rating 4 out of 5]

This unsettling novella isn't for the faint of bureaucratic heart. N., our unnamed protagonist, is a state television drone trapped in a Kafkaesque nightmare. Fresh from the grief of his wife's passing, his world truly unravels when his wallet vanishes in a department store jungle of this unnamed, yet distinctly Dublin-esque city. Ó Cadhain masterfully captures N.'s existential freefall with a biting contempt for the urban machine that chews up its inhabitants.

Lost in a desert of bureaucratic indifference, N. stumbles through a poignant meditation on the "what ifs" and "maybes" of life. He's a fly on the wall, watching the world go by but unable to truly participate. Black humor peppers the narrative, offering a bittersweet counterpoint to the bleakness. Think of it as a one-day odyssey with less stream of consciousness and a far lighter (though no less impactful) punch than Joyce or Beckett. Despite tackling a heavy theme, Ó Cadhain's novella is refreshingly concise and surprisingly easy to swallow, even for those with a low tolerance for existential angst.

[Susan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is the third book in a series; however, I got the impression that it would be easily readable as a stand alone and don't think having not read the first two played a big part in my issues with this installment. I had a hard time connecting with the main character "N." His wife has died, he is avoiding going home (where her body is possibly laid out), and instead wanders around town drinking, worrying about money, what will happen at work (that he has missed), and whether he will be arrested. Not sure why he will be arrested but it seems that he was called in as a missing person. I would like to credit a lot of my confusion to cultural differences and time. This book doesn't feel like it translated well to modern times. Or maybe I am not in tune with dark Irish humor?

Thanks to NetGalley and Yale University Press for a copy of the book. This review is my own opinion.

[J.D. DeHart · Rating 5 out of 5]

Literary styling and compelling narrative combine in a translation that works well and engages the reader. I recommend this book for those who enjoy a well-crafted story.

[Lee Peckover · Rating 1 out of 5]

It probably didn't help that I read a book about a man essentially trapped while I had to self-isolate, but the apparent humour passed me by in this. It's a depressing, frustrating and repetitive read with no characters worth caring about and a style that has been done better by many other writers. A real drag, and comfortably the worst book I have read this year.

[Ein_lesewesen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wer kennt das nicht, wenn eine unangenehme Aufgabe vor einem liegt, schiebt man sie gern vor sich her.
Es ist Samstagmorgen und N.s Frau ist gerade nach langer Krankheit gestorben, doch N. hat etliche Fehlstunden und geht zunächst ins Büro, obwohl er sich um eine Grabstätte, einen Sarg und die Trauerfeier kümmern müsste.
Schon am missbilligenden Ton seiner Schwägerin, die ihn per Telefon antreibt, spürt man, dass N. es ihr wahrscheinlich nicht recht machen kann – egal, was er tut. Und so folgen wir Leser*innen ihm nicht nur seinen abwägenden Gedanken, sondern in die nächste Kneipe, wo ihm sein Bekannter Simón helfen soll, einen günstigen Sarg aufzutreiben. Doch allein die Kosten des Whiskeys sind N. zu hoch und er überlegt, wo er ihn günstiger bekommt. Er könnte ja noch schnell einen mit Tomás trinken, und dabei fällt ihm ein, dass der Leichnam seiner Frau auch noch aufgebahrt werden muss. Ob das nicht die Kleinen Schwestern der Armen für lau machen könnten?

»Und dann fielen ihm die Kirche und der Priester ein. Es gab so viel zu tun. Es war ein einziger Spießrutenlauf, und jede ausgestreckte Hand musste mit Geld geschmiert werden.« S.11

Doch Geld hat er bald keins mehr, denn ihm wird die Brieftasche gestohlen und die letzten Pence verliert er auf der Rennbahn. Und so nimmt das Schicksal seinen Lauf, denn mit jeder Stunde, die vergeht, wird es schwieriger, nach Hause zurückzukehren – wenn nicht sogar unmöglich.

Jetzt stellt sich die Frage: Was macht es für Lesende interessant, einem Menschen beim Prokrastinieren zuzusehen? Denn Handlung wird man in dieser Geschichte fast vergeblich suchen. Und ich habe mich ehrlich gesagt auch etwas schwergetan, brauchte mehrere Anläufe, um das Buch zu beenden. Aber Ó Cadhain hat es immer wieder geschafft, mich zurückzuziehen.

Und hier lag wohl auch die Kunst – es ist eine so anschauliche, zuweilen traurige Charakterstudie auf hohem Niveau. Ganz im melancholisch humorvollen Tenor, der der irischen Literatur eigen ist, vermittelt der Autor einen tiefen Einblick in die Gedankenwelt eines einfachen Mannes, den nichts anderes plagt, als auch uns in manchen Stunden. Ist es nicht allzu menschlich, sich nicht mit dem Thema Tod und Trauer beschäftigen zu wollen?
Ich schwankte oft zwischen dem Wunsch, ihn zu schütteln und zu sagen: »Jetzt mach doch endlich mal« und tiefem Verständnis für seine Situation, die durch seine Mitmenschen angefacht und befeuert wird. Auch mir waren seine Ausreden, seine Gedanken nicht fremd, die ihn immer wieder die Dinge verzögern ließen. Nun ja, da wäre ja noch das Thema mit dem »freien Willen«.

Ich denke, dass es kein Werk für jedermann ist, man sollte schon bereit sein, wirren, abstrusen Gedankengängen zu folgen. Aber dafür wird mit auch mit der Auflösung belohnt, ob N. seine Frau unter die Erde bekommt oder nicht.

[Dan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I discovered Ó Cadhain on happenstance, finding an article in the New Yorker on a new translation of Cré na Cille into English. Immediately upon finishing the article, I ordered the book from Yale University Press and it was brilliant.

On a recent trip to Ireland, I wanted to track down a copy of the novel in the original Irish. I can't read a word of the language. I just wanted it for the love of the novel; I own several volumes in German and Japanese for the same reason. The first shop I went to was Hodges Figgis which has the distinction of being the oldest bookshop in Ireland (and is believed to be the third oldest in the world), but they did not have it. They did have this book, and another collection of the author's short stories. I purchased both.

The same wit that made Cré na Cille (English: Graveyard Clay) such a wonderful read is present in this short novel, as is the wonderful rambling philosophizing, but with a much darker tone. Whereas in Cré na Cille all the characters are dead, they are some of the most vibrant in all of literature. Here our protagonist is very much alive, but adrift and lost following the death of his wife (one gets the feeling he was much the same prior to becoming a widower).

Ó Cadhain presents a cast of nebulous characters, never developed in any detail, and who drift in and out of the narrative. The plot too is never fully formed. Things happen, the narrator moves from one situation to another with no chapter breaks or much in the way of resolution, and it perfectly captures the human experience of passing through situations that are messy and without a suitable denouement. This is a beautiful, funny, vulgar, portrait of life from a master limner.

To finish my own little story, I did eventually track down a copy of Graveyard Clay in Irish, in a small Irish language bookshop in Dublin. It sits proudly with my English copy, this book, and the volume of short fiction I look forward to reading.

[Ann]

Thanks to the publisher for providing me with a free copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

This book is difficult to summarize. It’s an interesting read with a mystifying, somehow both charming and unbelievable narrator who flits from situation to situation, pulling the reader through the day that his wife died. He’s philosophical, judgmental, unreliable. Yet the story itself is a very readable slice of Irish life. Augmented by an informative introduction by the translator, the book is a romp back and forth and back again peppered by character after character assessed and conveyed via N’s distinctive point of view. I liked the story. I liked the culture and the character and the trip through long ago that N enabled. It wasn’t a difficult or particularly long read, either, so it’s a relatively easy volume to pick up if you want to expand your experience of Irish literature.

[Pascale · Rating 2 out of 5]

I bought this book because of its title and beautiful cover, but that's about all I got out of it. N.'s wife has just died. Terrified at the prospect of facing his in-laws, N. goes on a bender. Early on his wallet, with all the money he saved up for the funeral, is stolen from him as he is looking for bargains in a department store. Thereafter he tries half-heartedly to borrow money from priests, loses the rest of his small change on horse bets, and ends up spending the night with a promiscuous lass called Squimzy (?). The longer he defers shouldering his responsibilities for the funeral arrangements, the more afraid he gets of facing the music. An almost caricatural portrait of Irish manhood.

[Lisa · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was nothing that I expected. This novella follows a grieving widower as he floats around town for two days without direction or money. He is so devastated by his wife’s death that he is immobile. The rest of the world seems to go forward as he is stagnant. But I couldn’t read more than a few pages at a time as I wondered what I was reading. I’m usually happy with nuance but this did not hold my interest.

[Abhishek Kona · Rating 2 out of 5]

A book translated from Irish to English—whoa.

The narrators wife has just died and he spends the next few days in a daze going to churches, pubs worrying about the funeral.

He has a breakdown which makes the personal tragedy to be a comedy for others.

Not a fan of the style, descriptions of scened did not stick in my brain. Skip.

[Andre · Rating 4 out of 5]

Entertaining story. Possibly a but dated and mostly of interest if you have read other Irish literature, including Beckett. Unknown to me if it lost anything in the translation from Irish but the characters are archetypes of the Irish psyche. Good one.

[TC · Rating 4 out of 5]

Recommended.

Review posted at Tzer Island book blog:

http://www.tzerisland.com/bookblog/20...

[Bob · Rating 3 out of 5]

No surprise it is the ruminations of a bleak and lost man whose only way out of the responsibilities the death of his wife brings about and the confusion of obligations is escape.

[Petra · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5*

[Mandy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mairtin O’Cadhain is acclaimed as the foremost Irish author writing in Irish in the 20th century and it is good to have another of his books so ably translated. I read The Dirty Dust, or Graveyard Clay, a while back and although I found it an amusing read up to a point, the conceit of a community of dead people talking endlessly in their graves tedious after a while. This novella, here translated into English for the first time, is much more readable. It tells the story of N, whose wife has just died, and who is sent out by her sisters to make arrangements for the funeral. This he is signally ill-equipped to do, and he wanders around town meeting various random people by whom he is engaged for a while, then drifts on, self-absorbed and looking for the next drink. A lone person adrift in a senseless world to whom things happen but who has very little agency. I certainly didn’t love the book, nor was I drawn to the protagonist, but the black comedy amuses at times and the sheer pointlessness of his odyssey is compelling. Firmly rooted in its time and place, the Ireland of the 1960s, it’s an atmospheric and mostly enjoyable account of alienation and ennui.