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Last Days in Cleaver Square
It is 1975 and an old man, Francis McNulty, a veteran of the Spanish Civil War, is beset with sightings in his garden of his old nemesis, General Franco. The general is in fact in Spain, on his deathbed, but Francis is deeply troubled, as is his daughter Gillian, who lives with him in Cleaver Square.
Francis' account of his haunting is by turns witty, cantankerous and nostalgic. At times he drifts back to his days in Madrid, when he rescued a young girl from a burning building and brought her back to London with him. There are other, darker events from that time, involving an American surgeon called Doc Roscoe, and a brief, terrible act of betrayal.
When Gillian announces her forthcoming marriage to a senior civil servant, Francis realizes he has to adapt to new circumstances and confront his past once and for all. Highly atmospheric, and powerfully dramatic, rich in pathos and humour, Last Days in Cleaver Square confirms a major storyteller at the height of his powers.
'[W]onderfully sinister ... a delight ... you are in for a thrilling ride.' Spectator on The Wardrobe Mistress
Francis' account of his haunting is by turns witty, cantankerous and nostalgic. At times he drifts back to his days in Madrid, when he rescued a young girl from a burning building and brought her back to London with him. There are other, darker events from that time, involving an American surgeon called Doc Roscoe, and a brief, terrible act of betrayal.
When Gillian announces her forthcoming marriage to a senior civil servant, Francis realizes he has to adapt to new circumstances and confront his past once and for all. Highly atmospheric, and powerfully dramatic, rich in pathos and humour, Last Days in Cleaver Square confirms a major storyteller at the height of his powers.
'[W]onderfully sinister ... a delight ... you are in for a thrilling ride.' Spectator on The Wardrobe Mistress
320 pages, Hardcover
First published May 20, 2021
14 people are currently reading
567 people want to read
About the author
Patrick McGrath
96 books562 followersPatrick McGrath was born in London and grew up near Broadmoor Hospital where his father was Medical Superintendent. He was educated at Stonyhurst College. He is a British novelist whose work has been categorized as gothic fiction. He is married to actress Maria Aitken and lives in New York City.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 74 reviews
May 18, 2021
Last Days in Cleaver Square sees a Spanish civil war veteran close to death, haunted by Franco’s spectre thanks to a terrible act of betrayal committed during the war. London, Autumn 1975. A veteran of the war, poet and fragile elderly gentleman Francis McNulty had once fought on the Republican side and now almost 40 years later he has become delusional and is frequently beset with sightings in his garden of his old nemesis, General Franco. Living in Cleaver Square, a scruffy location in Kennington, South London, his regular episodes of seeing Franco in his full military uniform complete with rusty medals not only deeply trouble Francis but also his middle-aged, newly engaged daughter Gillian, who lives with him in the eponymous square; her soon to be husband is none other than Sir Percy Gauss of the Foreign Office. And while Franco is still alive, although currently on his deathbed, he is, in reality, thousands of miles away in a palace laden with romantic painter Francisco Goya’s expensive artworks in Madrid.
After Francis wakes up screaming having purportedly seen Franco by his bedside, Gilly summons her Aunt Finty from her home on the remote Isle of Mull in the Inner Hebrides. Artist Finty and her younger brother Francis have always been close and spent their formative years growing up in the same Cleaver Square property. Those around Francis can see how far gone he is, and do their utmost to help care for him, including live-in housekeeper Dolores Lopez, an orphan of the civil war who Francis rescued at the tender age of eight and of course Gilly and Finty. Francis' account of his haunting is by turns witty, cantankerous and nostalgic. At times he drifts back to his days in Madrid when he rescued a young girl from a burning building and brought her back to London with him; that girl was Dolores. There are other, darker events from that time, involving an American surgeon called Doc Roscoe, and a brief, terrible act of betrayal he cannot shake from his mind.
When Gillian announces her forthcoming marriage to a senior civil servant, Francis realises he has to adapt to new circumstances and confront his past once and for all. Last Days in Cleaver Square is a compelling, captivating and deeply poignant story and one we can all relate to as it explores ageing, guilt, the fallibility of memory and the importance of both legacy and family. It's richly atmospheric as well as powerful and moving but it is not without its humour and is peopled with beautiful humanised characters. Underpinning the narrative is an omnipresent sense of dread that continues to creep for the entirety and a first-person narrator who is wildly unreliable giving rise to an air of unpredictability. It's a dramatic yet understated and nuanced tale that is ostensibly a reckoning with the past and a nod to the legacy of midcentury fascism. Sensitive themes such as deceit and trauma are deftly handled and culminate in a satisfying conclusion in which Francis attains peace and clears his conscience before passing on. Highly recommended.
After Francis wakes up screaming having purportedly seen Franco by his bedside, Gilly summons her Aunt Finty from her home on the remote Isle of Mull in the Inner Hebrides. Artist Finty and her younger brother Francis have always been close and spent their formative years growing up in the same Cleaver Square property. Those around Francis can see how far gone he is, and do their utmost to help care for him, including live-in housekeeper Dolores Lopez, an orphan of the civil war who Francis rescued at the tender age of eight and of course Gilly and Finty. Francis' account of his haunting is by turns witty, cantankerous and nostalgic. At times he drifts back to his days in Madrid when he rescued a young girl from a burning building and brought her back to London with him; that girl was Dolores. There are other, darker events from that time, involving an American surgeon called Doc Roscoe, and a brief, terrible act of betrayal he cannot shake from his mind.
When Gillian announces her forthcoming marriage to a senior civil servant, Francis realises he has to adapt to new circumstances and confront his past once and for all. Last Days in Cleaver Square is a compelling, captivating and deeply poignant story and one we can all relate to as it explores ageing, guilt, the fallibility of memory and the importance of both legacy and family. It's richly atmospheric as well as powerful and moving but it is not without its humour and is peopled with beautiful humanised characters. Underpinning the narrative is an omnipresent sense of dread that continues to creep for the entirety and a first-person narrator who is wildly unreliable giving rise to an air of unpredictability. It's a dramatic yet understated and nuanced tale that is ostensibly a reckoning with the past and a nod to the legacy of midcentury fascism. Sensitive themes such as deceit and trauma are deftly handled and culminate in a satisfying conclusion in which Francis attains peace and clears his conscience before passing on. Highly recommended.
June 11, 2021
The writing is absolutely so beautiful it just grabbed me for the first page. I wanted to read this book as I go to Spain quite a lot. I don’t know what more I can say about Last Days in Cleaver Square than what has already been said. I believe I have just found another author to follow and now I want to read The Wardrobe Mistress by Patrick McGrath.
June 1, 2021
Siamo lontani dai capolavori di McGrath che per me rimangono "Follia" e "Martha Peake". L'autore anche in questo caso riesce a costruire un'atmosfera inquietante, ma la tensione rimane costante per tutta la lettura e non culmina in nessun colpo di scena. Poteva riprendersi nel finale, ma non mi ha convinto neanche quello, anzi sembra togliere drammaticità alla storia.
November 16, 2025
I loved the two previous McGrath's novels I read (Spider and Asylum), both of which dealt with mental health (a subject he's very good on) and had narrators who were very unreliable. It worked especially well in Spider where the unreliable nature of the protagonist was a major feature in the plot. In Asylum, however, it was a little more clumsy and you could certainly see the cracks, by which I mean Patrick McGrath -- when all is said and done -- is, in truth, not actually a very good writer. He can write to the extent that it's entertaining but like I said, it's often clumsy and cliched. Nonetheless, I enjoyed both those books.
I only bring this up to demonstrate that I generally like Patrick McGrath and his writing style because when it comes to this book, I honestly thought it was rather abysmal. Those cracks which were only noticeable in Asylum are significantly more evident here which is strange because this novel actually feels more lightweight, like an attempt by McGrath to do something a little more picaresque and charming. But I found it very dry and meandering. It's set in 1975 when reports of General Franco's health are poor and the protagonist, an elderly poet named Francis McNulty is having visions of Franco in the street and in his bedroom, and, unsurprisingly, this all serves to force him into reminiscing about his time when he volunteered to fight against the Spanish Fascists in the 1930s. He now lives in Cleaver Square in London with his daughter, Gilly, a woman who is soon to be married, and she is trying to get her ageing father to consider moving in with her and her new husband. Meanwhile there's a Guardian journalist who is writing about McNulty's experiences in Spain, and the book is likewise triggering a great many ghosts of his past.
Honestly this whole thing was very slow, dull, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable. This is McGrath's most recent work so it might not be his best (the previous two I read being from the late 80s/early 90s). It's actually written in a more accessible style with short chapters and more restrained prose. But I found it uninteresting and bland, none of it engaging in the slightest, and certainly without the qualities that made me interested in his earlier work. Yes, I suppose there is a mental health angle to it too but not in the same way. I also don't understand why he wrote it as a novel then at the very end had an editor's note claiming these were excerpts from a diary. Then why not just write it as a diary? I guess this was another attempt at revealing an unreliable narrator but given that it was McNulty's first person narrative anyway that was already established. Regardless, it added nothing, and I found the book extremely forgettable.
I only bring this up to demonstrate that I generally like Patrick McGrath and his writing style because when it comes to this book, I honestly thought it was rather abysmal. Those cracks which were only noticeable in Asylum are significantly more evident here which is strange because this novel actually feels more lightweight, like an attempt by McGrath to do something a little more picaresque and charming. But I found it very dry and meandering. It's set in 1975 when reports of General Franco's health are poor and the protagonist, an elderly poet named Francis McNulty is having visions of Franco in the street and in his bedroom, and, unsurprisingly, this all serves to force him into reminiscing about his time when he volunteered to fight against the Spanish Fascists in the 1930s. He now lives in Cleaver Square in London with his daughter, Gilly, a woman who is soon to be married, and she is trying to get her ageing father to consider moving in with her and her new husband. Meanwhile there's a Guardian journalist who is writing about McNulty's experiences in Spain, and the book is likewise triggering a great many ghosts of his past.
Honestly this whole thing was very slow, dull, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable. This is McGrath's most recent work so it might not be his best (the previous two I read being from the late 80s/early 90s). It's actually written in a more accessible style with short chapters and more restrained prose. But I found it uninteresting and bland, none of it engaging in the slightest, and certainly without the qualities that made me interested in his earlier work. Yes, I suppose there is a mental health angle to it too but not in the same way. I also don't understand why he wrote it as a novel then at the very end had an editor's note claiming these were excerpts from a diary. Then why not just write it as a diary? I guess this was another attempt at revealing an unreliable narrator but given that it was McNulty's first person narrative anyway that was already established. Regardless, it added nothing, and I found the book extremely forgettable.
May 25, 2021
Last Days In Cleaver Square is a novel by British novelist, Patrick McGrath. Some forty years after he returned from a stint as an ambulance driver with the International Brigades during the Spanish Civil War, Francis McNulty is still living in the Cleaver Square house in which he grew up. A published poet renowned for his verse inspired by his time in Spain, he is annoyed his work-in-progress is missing.
“I was once a poet. I can’t write it now, poetry. Those rivers of imagery that, oh! – that once swept through my imagination like ancient mighty waters in flood? All long since departed”
Downstairs lives his housekeeper, Dolores Lopez, whom he saved and brought to London after her family was killed during the bombing of Madrid. His daughter Gillian, a civil servant with the Foreign Office, shares the upper floors with him, but plans to marry Sir Percy Gauss, meaning Francis will be alone again.
Perhaps it’s the news of the dying Spanish dictator, the courts martial, the executions, that cause Franco to appear: first in the street, then his beloved garden (afflicted by mildew, Francis blames the generalisimo’s foul presence), and even in his bedroom.
“Fraying dark blue sash, badly rusted medals, red tassels, gold piping, various arm-of-service insignia and crossed muskets under a double bugle with a red diamond on each collar point. Riding boots, filthy, as though he’d come through a cowshed or a military toilet. He was decrepit and unclean, he was sickly looking, falling apart, in fact, and he stank.”
Gilly is concerned when he reveals who he has seen. “She suspects I am losing my mind.” She may refer to it as an apparition, but Francis knows the dictator is really there, a ghoul he is sure that Dolores also sees, a ghoul demanding an apology.
When his older sister Finty arrives, months early for her December visit, Francis knows Gilly has been sharing her worries about him. There’s talk of selling the house, which he certainly won’t allow; they tell him “You forget things, and you make things up”, and yes, his poems are missing, he is plagued by nightmares, he sometimes gets a little confused, but moving in with his daughter and her new husband? Unthinkable!
“You are thinking of your garden, of course. Was I thinking of my garden? I was now. And when I thought of my garden I thought about blight, and the causes of blight. – I can give you a garden, Percy Gauss said. But can you give me a smelly Fascist dictator with blood on his hands who comes into my bed at night and kills all my plants and then demands an apology? I did not say this.”
Meanwhile, Francis regularly slips out across the Square to the Earl of Rochester, to chat over a gin and tonic to Hugh Supple, a journalist who is writing “a long piece for the Manchester Guardian about my experiences in Spain as a way to provide what he called a living context to the poetry.” Francis finds himself sharing details he had no intention of ever revealing, a guilty secret that has haunted him for decades.
This is very much a literary read: the prose is gorgeous, evocative and full of subtle humour (although the reason Franco demands an apology is laugh-out-loud funny); a familiarity with the Spanish Civil War might enhance the enjoyment, but is not essential; the narrator is unreliable, a rather bitter, perhaps slightly demented old man, frail but stubborn, who nonetheless draws the reader’s empathy.
Filled with sharp dialogue and wit, this is a powerful and beautifully written tale. Sadly, it loses half a star of the potential 4.5 star rating for indulging in the arrogant and annoying editorial affectation of omitting quote marks for speech, but a worthwhile read, all the same.
This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Random House UK
“I was once a poet. I can’t write it now, poetry. Those rivers of imagery that, oh! – that once swept through my imagination like ancient mighty waters in flood? All long since departed”
Downstairs lives his housekeeper, Dolores Lopez, whom he saved and brought to London after her family was killed during the bombing of Madrid. His daughter Gillian, a civil servant with the Foreign Office, shares the upper floors with him, but plans to marry Sir Percy Gauss, meaning Francis will be alone again.
Perhaps it’s the news of the dying Spanish dictator, the courts martial, the executions, that cause Franco to appear: first in the street, then his beloved garden (afflicted by mildew, Francis blames the generalisimo’s foul presence), and even in his bedroom.
“Fraying dark blue sash, badly rusted medals, red tassels, gold piping, various arm-of-service insignia and crossed muskets under a double bugle with a red diamond on each collar point. Riding boots, filthy, as though he’d come through a cowshed or a military toilet. He was decrepit and unclean, he was sickly looking, falling apart, in fact, and he stank.”
Gilly is concerned when he reveals who he has seen. “She suspects I am losing my mind.” She may refer to it as an apparition, but Francis knows the dictator is really there, a ghoul he is sure that Dolores also sees, a ghoul demanding an apology.
When his older sister Finty arrives, months early for her December visit, Francis knows Gilly has been sharing her worries about him. There’s talk of selling the house, which he certainly won’t allow; they tell him “You forget things, and you make things up”, and yes, his poems are missing, he is plagued by nightmares, he sometimes gets a little confused, but moving in with his daughter and her new husband? Unthinkable!
“You are thinking of your garden, of course. Was I thinking of my garden? I was now. And when I thought of my garden I thought about blight, and the causes of blight. – I can give you a garden, Percy Gauss said. But can you give me a smelly Fascist dictator with blood on his hands who comes into my bed at night and kills all my plants and then demands an apology? I did not say this.”
Meanwhile, Francis regularly slips out across the Square to the Earl of Rochester, to chat over a gin and tonic to Hugh Supple, a journalist who is writing “a long piece for the Manchester Guardian about my experiences in Spain as a way to provide what he called a living context to the poetry.” Francis finds himself sharing details he had no intention of ever revealing, a guilty secret that has haunted him for decades.
This is very much a literary read: the prose is gorgeous, evocative and full of subtle humour (although the reason Franco demands an apology is laugh-out-loud funny); a familiarity with the Spanish Civil War might enhance the enjoyment, but is not essential; the narrator is unreliable, a rather bitter, perhaps slightly demented old man, frail but stubborn, who nonetheless draws the reader’s empathy.
Filled with sharp dialogue and wit, this is a powerful and beautifully written tale. Sadly, it loses half a star of the potential 4.5 star rating for indulging in the arrogant and annoying editorial affectation of omitting quote marks for speech, but a worthwhile read, all the same.
This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Random House UK
June 25, 2021
The ghosts of war…
Francis McNulty is an old man now, in 1975, but his younger self was one of the many men who had gone to aid the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, in his case as a medic. Now he is frail, although he hates the word, and showing signs of mental decline, perhaps even the beginnings of dementia. So when he starts seeing visions of General Franco at first in his garden and then later inside his house, his daughter puts it down to his mental state. Francis is convinced though that Franco, currently on his deathbed in Spain, is haunting him, and his memories of his time in Spain and the horrors he witnessed there are brought back afresh to his mind.
Told as Francis’ journal in a somewhat disjointed and rambling fashion as befits an elderly, possibly confused man, this is a wonderful picture of someone haunted by his experiences in the Spanish Civil War. Prior to reading this I had just finished a biography of Franco, the last chapter of which detailed his long-drawn out and rather horrific final days as his body crumbled and haemorrhaged and his doctors refused to allow him to die. It is during those days that Francis, in his home in England, gradually reveals his experiences and finally the incident that has left him with a feeling of guilt all the years since. His hatred of Franco is visceral, his view entirely polarised by the atrocities he witnessed, although there are occasional hints that he is aware that there were atrocities on the Republican side too. We learn of Doc Roscoe, the doctor he worked alongside patching up the wounded under atrocious conditions. We hear the story of Dolores Lopez, now Francis’ middle-aged housekeeper, but back then a child caught up in the siege of Madrid. And we come to understand the haunting, literal and metaphorical, of Francis by his old nemesis, Franco.
But this is not purely or even mostly a political novel. The story Francis reveals is a human one, of unexpected love and loyalty, of betrayal and the search for redemption and forgiveness. Did it make me cry? You betcha! But it also made me laugh, frequently, as Francis gives his often acerbic view of those around him, including his daughter and sister, both of whom he loves dearly but not uncritically. It’s also a wonderful depiction of ageing, with all the pathos of declining physical and mental faculties. There are many parallels between Franco and Francis, not least their names, of course, but their habit in their final days of finding themselves in tears. They each have only one daughter, caring for them at the end of their lives simply as fathers regardless of their past or politics. Francis’ daughter is as well portrayed as Francis himself, as she tries to deal with this difficult, contrary, opinionated man who refuses to accept his increasing limitations. She ranges through patience, worry, irritation, bossiness, and all the other emotions anyone who has cared for an elderly relative will recognise, but there is never any doubt in either the reader’s or Francis’ mind that her overriding emotion towards her father is love.
It’s a short novel, but has so much in it – truly a case where every word counts. Francis, writing privately in his journal, reveals more to the reader than he ever has to those closest to him, especially of his feelings for Doc Roscoe and for other men he has known over the years. Again a beautiful depiction of closeted homosexuality – Francis has chosen the easier path at that period of outwardly leading a heterosexual life. Yet one feels his relationship with his daughter is a major compensation for his lifetime of self-denial. And he is self-aware enough to gently mock himself so that one feels his life has not been a wasteland, although it is only now, as he faces his last days and recognises that his eternal enemy Franco is facing his, that he can finally try to come to terms with his past.
Why have I never come across Patrick McGrath before? A serious omission which I will have to promptly put right. Beautifully written, entertaining, moving, full of emotional truth – this gets my highest recommendation.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Random House Cornerstone.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
Francis McNulty is an old man now, in 1975, but his younger self was one of the many men who had gone to aid the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, in his case as a medic. Now he is frail, although he hates the word, and showing signs of mental decline, perhaps even the beginnings of dementia. So when he starts seeing visions of General Franco at first in his garden and then later inside his house, his daughter puts it down to his mental state. Francis is convinced though that Franco, currently on his deathbed in Spain, is haunting him, and his memories of his time in Spain and the horrors he witnessed there are brought back afresh to his mind.
Told as Francis’ journal in a somewhat disjointed and rambling fashion as befits an elderly, possibly confused man, this is a wonderful picture of someone haunted by his experiences in the Spanish Civil War. Prior to reading this I had just finished a biography of Franco, the last chapter of which detailed his long-drawn out and rather horrific final days as his body crumbled and haemorrhaged and his doctors refused to allow him to die. It is during those days that Francis, in his home in England, gradually reveals his experiences and finally the incident that has left him with a feeling of guilt all the years since. His hatred of Franco is visceral, his view entirely polarised by the atrocities he witnessed, although there are occasional hints that he is aware that there were atrocities on the Republican side too. We learn of Doc Roscoe, the doctor he worked alongside patching up the wounded under atrocious conditions. We hear the story of Dolores Lopez, now Francis’ middle-aged housekeeper, but back then a child caught up in the siege of Madrid. And we come to understand the haunting, literal and metaphorical, of Francis by his old nemesis, Franco.
But this is not purely or even mostly a political novel. The story Francis reveals is a human one, of unexpected love and loyalty, of betrayal and the search for redemption and forgiveness. Did it make me cry? You betcha! But it also made me laugh, frequently, as Francis gives his often acerbic view of those around him, including his daughter and sister, both of whom he loves dearly but not uncritically. It’s also a wonderful depiction of ageing, with all the pathos of declining physical and mental faculties. There are many parallels between Franco and Francis, not least their names, of course, but their habit in their final days of finding themselves in tears. They each have only one daughter, caring for them at the end of their lives simply as fathers regardless of their past or politics. Francis’ daughter is as well portrayed as Francis himself, as she tries to deal with this difficult, contrary, opinionated man who refuses to accept his increasing limitations. She ranges through patience, worry, irritation, bossiness, and all the other emotions anyone who has cared for an elderly relative will recognise, but there is never any doubt in either the reader’s or Francis’ mind that her overriding emotion towards her father is love.
It’s a short novel, but has so much in it – truly a case where every word counts. Francis, writing privately in his journal, reveals more to the reader than he ever has to those closest to him, especially of his feelings for Doc Roscoe and for other men he has known over the years. Again a beautiful depiction of closeted homosexuality – Francis has chosen the easier path at that period of outwardly leading a heterosexual life. Yet one feels his relationship with his daughter is a major compensation for his lifetime of self-denial. And he is self-aware enough to gently mock himself so that one feels his life has not been a wasteland, although it is only now, as he faces his last days and recognises that his eternal enemy Franco is facing his, that he can finally try to come to terms with his past.
Why have I never come across Patrick McGrath before? A serious omission which I will have to promptly put right. Beautifully written, entertaining, moving, full of emotional truth – this gets my highest recommendation.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Random House Cornerstone.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
March 19, 2021
I was attracted to this book because of the beautiful cover. The colours and almost symmetrical arrangement of the autumn leaves is very appealing to me. Then I read the blurb and thought it sounded quite unusual.. It is exactly the sort of book I would pick up in a bookshop or library.
This is a haunting novel in many ways. The main character Francis McNulty narrates the story - sometimes he is talking to his journalist friend in the pub and at other times it is his own private thoughts and ruminations. He is aging and suffering nightmares and seeing an apparition in the garden and the house, who he believes to be General Franco. His family think he is becoming senile.
Gradually his part in the Spanish civil war is shared and it is clear that he is haunted by his betrayal of a captured colleague who is executed. If this was a present day account of an experience in Afghanistan we would say that the person was suffering from PTSD. But this is set in 1975 and that is not mentioned, although mental deterioration is inferred.
This is not a happy story - although there are some lighter moments. However, it is very well written and as a shorter novel would make a great book club choice - there are loads of aspects to discuss. I was completely thrown by the editors comment at the end. It talks about disorganised diaries being the source of the novel. I am undecided whether this is part of the fictional account or whether there truly is a true story behind the novel.
Highly recommended. Thank you to NetGalley for an early copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
This is a haunting novel in many ways. The main character Francis McNulty narrates the story - sometimes he is talking to his journalist friend in the pub and at other times it is his own private thoughts and ruminations. He is aging and suffering nightmares and seeing an apparition in the garden and the house, who he believes to be General Franco. His family think he is becoming senile.
Gradually his part in the Spanish civil war is shared and it is clear that he is haunted by his betrayal of a captured colleague who is executed. If this was a present day account of an experience in Afghanistan we would say that the person was suffering from PTSD. But this is set in 1975 and that is not mentioned, although mental deterioration is inferred.
This is not a happy story - although there are some lighter moments. However, it is very well written and as a shorter novel would make a great book club choice - there are loads of aspects to discuss. I was completely thrown by the editors comment at the end. It talks about disorganised diaries being the source of the novel. I am undecided whether this is part of the fictional account or whether there truly is a true story behind the novel.
Highly recommended. Thank you to NetGalley for an early copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
June 18, 2021
Ersilia F - per RFS
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La lampada del diavolo è un lungo ricordo di un uomo, ormai giunto alla fine della sua vita, con un enorme segreto che lo perseguita da quarant’anni. Un segreto costellato da ombre che nascondono incarnazioni della morte. Perché la morte è la protagonista di questo romanzo, l’assoluta compagna che Francis McNulty ha cercato di tenere lontana durante la Guerra Civile spagnola. Una storia che lo stesso Francis, indiscusso protagonista, ci racconta, e lo fa con la pacata compostezza che deriva dal suo essere un poeta in declino. Nonostante siano trascorsi quarant’anni dall’anima nera che avvolse la Spagna nella figura del Generalissimo Franco, il povero Francis rivive costantemente quei ricordi che da un lato rappresentano la sua onta e dall’altro il suo coraggio. In quel periodo, infatti, decise di recarsi in Spagna per portare soccorso come autista di un’ambulanza, al fine di estirpare il fascismo e far valere la sua appartenenza alla razza umana.
La guerra, però, raramente è ordinata, mai pulita. Francis lo scoprirà sulla propria pelle, e terrà in vita il suo rimorso, un cancro venefico che gli corrode le viscere da anni e anni, sebbene abbia finto per tutto questo tempo una robustezza di mente e di spirito che non possiede.
La scelta della copertina del romanzo mi ha colpito molto, poiché raffigura un pover’uomo, vittima di un maleficio, che nelle profondità della notte cerca di tenere accesa la sua lanterna, perché nel caso si spegnesse la sua anima verrebbe ceduta al diavolo. Un quadro di Goya, che a parere del protagonista del libro è il più grande tra tutti i pittori spagnoli.
È complicato parlare di questa opera che per me è straordinaria. È una storia che mette a nudo le debolezze degli uomini, i rimorsi, gli errori, le colpe, l’essere stati coraggiosi o vili. L’esistenza di un uomo che è scisso tra ciò che è stato e quello che poteva essere, in un rimorso perenne. La mente o forse, addirittura, la nostra anima tormentata ci fa vedere fantasmi come una sorta di proiezione di ciò che viviamo dentro di noi.
Ho amato ogni singola parola, sentimenti e segreti che a lungo repressi hanno logorato l’anima di Francis. Un vecchio, folle, perseguitato e solo. Un uomo che a distanza di tanti anni, ancora non sa perché si sia messo in viaggio per andare a dare una mano ai repubblicani in Spagna.
Con una scrittura enfatica e ricca di descrizioni dettagliate, ci troviamo di fronte un romanzo in grado di far rivivere quelle voci che il franchismo ha annientato con le sue torture e fucilazioni di massa.
Lo consiglio a chi cerca narrazioni appassionate di anime tormentate, con un rimando alla storia.
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La lampada del diavolo è un lungo ricordo di un uomo, ormai giunto alla fine della sua vita, con un enorme segreto che lo perseguita da quarant’anni. Un segreto costellato da ombre che nascondono incarnazioni della morte. Perché la morte è la protagonista di questo romanzo, l’assoluta compagna che Francis McNulty ha cercato di tenere lontana durante la Guerra Civile spagnola. Una storia che lo stesso Francis, indiscusso protagonista, ci racconta, e lo fa con la pacata compostezza che deriva dal suo essere un poeta in declino. Nonostante siano trascorsi quarant’anni dall’anima nera che avvolse la Spagna nella figura del Generalissimo Franco, il povero Francis rivive costantemente quei ricordi che da un lato rappresentano la sua onta e dall’altro il suo coraggio. In quel periodo, infatti, decise di recarsi in Spagna per portare soccorso come autista di un’ambulanza, al fine di estirpare il fascismo e far valere la sua appartenenza alla razza umana.
La guerra, però, raramente è ordinata, mai pulita. Francis lo scoprirà sulla propria pelle, e terrà in vita il suo rimorso, un cancro venefico che gli corrode le viscere da anni e anni, sebbene abbia finto per tutto questo tempo una robustezza di mente e di spirito che non possiede.
La scelta della copertina del romanzo mi ha colpito molto, poiché raffigura un pover’uomo, vittima di un maleficio, che nelle profondità della notte cerca di tenere accesa la sua lanterna, perché nel caso si spegnesse la sua anima verrebbe ceduta al diavolo. Un quadro di Goya, che a parere del protagonista del libro è il più grande tra tutti i pittori spagnoli.
È complicato parlare di questa opera che per me è straordinaria. È una storia che mette a nudo le debolezze degli uomini, i rimorsi, gli errori, le colpe, l’essere stati coraggiosi o vili. L’esistenza di un uomo che è scisso tra ciò che è stato e quello che poteva essere, in un rimorso perenne. La mente o forse, addirittura, la nostra anima tormentata ci fa vedere fantasmi come una sorta di proiezione di ciò che viviamo dentro di noi.
Ho amato ogni singola parola, sentimenti e segreti che a lungo repressi hanno logorato l’anima di Francis. Un vecchio, folle, perseguitato e solo. Un uomo che a distanza di tanti anni, ancora non sa perché si sia messo in viaggio per andare a dare una mano ai repubblicani in Spagna.
Con una scrittura enfatica e ricca di descrizioni dettagliate, ci troviamo di fronte un romanzo in grado di far rivivere quelle voci che il franchismo ha annientato con le sue torture e fucilazioni di massa.
Lo consiglio a chi cerca narrazioni appassionate di anime tormentate, con un rimando alla storia.
May 25, 2021
I enjoyed McGrath’s Last Days in Clever Square tremendously. It is a clever, warm-hearted book and its main characters are very well drawn.
It is 1975 and Francis McNulty, our not all too reliable narrator, finds himself haunted by apparitions of Franco, which triggers in McNulty powerful ‘malodorous memories, as though they came from the toilets of hell’. In 1975, Franco’s health was deteriorating and he had not much time left to live – a not unimportant fact when it comes to the catharsis in this story. He takes McNulty back to traumas he has suffered during the Spanish Civil War when fighting with the International Brigades. The main theme of this book however is not the Civil War, it is about reconciliation with one’s life when we know there is only little of it left to live. McNulty literally lives out his Last Days In Clever Square and we are privileged to be let into his most secret thoughts and feelings as he comes to terms with the rights and wrongs of the life he has lived.
McNulty is a fabulous character who I’d love to have known. He is as cantankerous and bloody-minded as old men tend to get, but he is also funny and educated, very witty and extremely observant, with a high level of self-awareness. He fiercely defends his independence whilst secretly worrying about getting abandoned by the people he loves. He reflects on the demands old age puts on his mind and body but struggles to accept that others might think him frail. He feels the pleasures of life slipping away from him and describes growing old as a ‘spartan business’, ‘because it demands that you jettison so much that once had been the very zest and pith of life … so that life pithless and sans zest may continue’.
Regularly he creates judgment day for himself and there is one big regret that stands out for him, ‘the shameful tragic death of the one man I ever truly loved’, which is also the source of his day scares and nightmares involving the generalisimo. His tormented mind is briefly relived when he shares his memories, more a confession with the reader where he begs to be absolved. Little he knows then that life will give him one last chance to cleanse himself of his shame. And he uses it to great effect and emerges from it as liberated man.
The end of the book made me feel happy, even if I had to leave McNulty knowing he is seeing out his last days, because it was such a joy to have known him.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Hutchinson/Penguin Random House for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
It is 1975 and Francis McNulty, our not all too reliable narrator, finds himself haunted by apparitions of Franco, which triggers in McNulty powerful ‘malodorous memories, as though they came from the toilets of hell’. In 1975, Franco’s health was deteriorating and he had not much time left to live – a not unimportant fact when it comes to the catharsis in this story. He takes McNulty back to traumas he has suffered during the Spanish Civil War when fighting with the International Brigades. The main theme of this book however is not the Civil War, it is about reconciliation with one’s life when we know there is only little of it left to live. McNulty literally lives out his Last Days In Clever Square and we are privileged to be let into his most secret thoughts and feelings as he comes to terms with the rights and wrongs of the life he has lived.
McNulty is a fabulous character who I’d love to have known. He is as cantankerous and bloody-minded as old men tend to get, but he is also funny and educated, very witty and extremely observant, with a high level of self-awareness. He fiercely defends his independence whilst secretly worrying about getting abandoned by the people he loves. He reflects on the demands old age puts on his mind and body but struggles to accept that others might think him frail. He feels the pleasures of life slipping away from him and describes growing old as a ‘spartan business’, ‘because it demands that you jettison so much that once had been the very zest and pith of life … so that life pithless and sans zest may continue’.
Regularly he creates judgment day for himself and there is one big regret that stands out for him, ‘the shameful tragic death of the one man I ever truly loved’, which is also the source of his day scares and nightmares involving the generalisimo. His tormented mind is briefly relived when he shares his memories, more a confession with the reader where he begs to be absolved. Little he knows then that life will give him one last chance to cleanse himself of his shame. And he uses it to great effect and emerges from it as liberated man.
The end of the book made me feel happy, even if I had to leave McNulty knowing he is seeing out his last days, because it was such a joy to have known him.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Hutchinson/Penguin Random House for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
March 31, 2022
"The question hung there in the silence, as the city slept, and somewhere in Madrid the generalísimo, scourge of Spain, lay dying in an ancient royal palace full of Goyas".
It is 1975 and Francis, is nearing the end of his life in the family home in Cleaver Square, London. In Spain, Franco is also dying. Francis is a published poet, his work heavily inspired by the time he spent as volunteer in the International Brigades during the Spanish Civil War. A time which still haunts him, emotionally, mentally and metaphysically.
This is a truly amazing book. The writing is, quite simply, superb. McGrath captures the trauma and the disillusionment that so many who served as volunteers felt. The helplessness and horrors of a brutal regime. But this is also a book about love, about growing old and the fragility of life. The story of one man, reflecting, struggling as his mind and body fail him. This emotional journey is, however, not without an injection of humour. This is such a clever book, Autumn turning to Winter, Francis/Franco, the memories which shift in time, are repeated, confused, reflecting the mind of the narrator. A brilliant read, highly recommended.
It is 1975 and Francis, is nearing the end of his life in the family home in Cleaver Square, London. In Spain, Franco is also dying. Francis is a published poet, his work heavily inspired by the time he spent as volunteer in the International Brigades during the Spanish Civil War. A time which still haunts him, emotionally, mentally and metaphysically.
This is a truly amazing book. The writing is, quite simply, superb. McGrath captures the trauma and the disillusionment that so many who served as volunteers felt. The helplessness and horrors of a brutal regime. But this is also a book about love, about growing old and the fragility of life. The story of one man, reflecting, struggling as his mind and body fail him. This emotional journey is, however, not without an injection of humour. This is such a clever book, Autumn turning to Winter, Francis/Franco, the memories which shift in time, are repeated, confused, reflecting the mind of the narrator. A brilliant read, highly recommended.
April 26, 2022
Extremely well written about Francis McNulty coming to the ends of his life. He’s lived and served though the Spanish Civil war and now he’s finding it hard to relive it through his thoughts and dreams. He has a daughter who lives with him but she is to be married to a prominent MP and they want him to live with them but he doesn’t want to leave Cleaver Square, the family home and says the only way he’ll leave is feet first! He’s a very sad, traumatised old man but still has a bit of wit left which is shown at odd times throughout the book. All in all a good read but I did find it a dry at times. However it is not a happy tale but Patrick tells it so well. I liked the letter by the author at the end explaining how he came to set this.
July 3, 2021
Come sempre una bella scrittura, ricca di suggestioni. C’è, come in tutti i romanzi di McGrath, un protagonista psicolabile e una vecchia casa infestata di fantasmi emotivi. Il soggetto, tra la guerra civile spagnola, il generalissimo Franco e i Capricci di Goya, sarebbe stato un buon punto di partenza. Però, in questo romanzo, non succede nulla. Si attende con impazienza, annoiandosi un po', una rivelazione nell'ultimo capitolo; e invece il finale si rivela molto debole, per non dire inesistente. Una delusione.
October 24, 2025
grazie per aver reso la guerra civile spagnola interessante ma soprattutto gay
October 1, 2021
Patrick McGrath is an author whose career I have followed since I first read Asylum back in the late 90s. His writing often tackles the psychological impact of emotional trauma, sometimes by hinting at supernatural elements like spectres and shadowy figures from the past, often using unreliable narrators. In The Wardrobe Mistress McGrath tells the story of Joan Grice and her discovery that the man she had been living with for many years, recently deceased, had once been a member of Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists. Last Days in Cleaver Square, his latest novel, also deals with fascism, only this time it’s from the viewpoint of Francis McNulty, a poet living in London in 1975, seeing out the last few months of his life. Written in the first person, we get hints that McNulty’s mind may be drifting away, through his contradictions and admissions, so when he reveals that he is sometimes visited by the ghost of Francisco Franco, the Spanish fascist dictator, it is easy to dismiss this as another element of the elderly man’s fracturing mind.
We learn that McNulty did live in Spain during the Civil War, like other writers such as Orwell, Hemingway and Lee, and that due to a tragic case of mistaken identity he has been carrying a burden of guilt for decades. McNulty’s scrambled recollections blend the past and present together, creating a dreamlike quality to his narration. McGrath, as ever, does a fine job of describing the historical elements, some of which are clearly defined; others – like the aspect of repressed homosexuality – are merely hinted at. After McNulty journeys to Madrid with his daughter and son-in-law, for one last visit to the city in which he spent so much time as a younger man, he manages to commit an act of atonement which lands him in trouble with the authorities, but goes some way towards counterbalancing his feelings of hatred towards Franco.
Last Days in Cleaver Square is a short novel, well-paced and nicely written, but one that delivers quite a punch and is a worthy of your time. Recommended.
We learn that McNulty did live in Spain during the Civil War, like other writers such as Orwell, Hemingway and Lee, and that due to a tragic case of mistaken identity he has been carrying a burden of guilt for decades. McNulty’s scrambled recollections blend the past and present together, creating a dreamlike quality to his narration. McGrath, as ever, does a fine job of describing the historical elements, some of which are clearly defined; others – like the aspect of repressed homosexuality – are merely hinted at. After McNulty journeys to Madrid with his daughter and son-in-law, for one last visit to the city in which he spent so much time as a younger man, he manages to commit an act of atonement which lands him in trouble with the authorities, but goes some way towards counterbalancing his feelings of hatred towards Franco.
Last Days in Cleaver Square is a short novel, well-paced and nicely written, but one that delivers quite a punch and is a worthy of your time. Recommended.
October 3, 2021
I was looking forward to this novel of an author unknown to me, but sadly I have been disappointed. Spanish Civil War, Cleaver Sq, Old Writer... the three elements really pulled me towards Last Days but the narrator, the old poet who experienced the Spanish civil war first hand and is now visited by a ghoul (the very Francisco Franco who is eternally dying in 1975 Madrid) did nothing to carry me into his descent into the darkness of old age, lived and living regrets, the possible reality of particular otherness... There are annoying errors in some of the Spanish used, the reality of Cleaver Square is not well conjured (I am a regular visitor), and the secondary characters are not properly dealt with, I feel. Most maddening of them all is Dolores López... if Francis McNulty really rescued her at 8 and brought her to England, the fact that she is now just his housekeeper really makes you ponder... But (of course!) this is a novel about unreliability, past trauma, the loosing of one's mental faculties etc etc, yet for this reader, this particular literary narrative did not work. Indeed you could say that the meanderings, the ambiguities, the darkness of the whole text actually mimic the situation of the narrator... no doubt it does, but it was a peripeteia that ultimately did not interest, nor satisfied me, even if, thankfully, there was some humour that I appreciated.
Many thanks to Hutchinson via NetGalley for an opportunity to read and review independently this curious novel.
Many thanks to Hutchinson via NetGalley for an opportunity to read and review independently this curious novel.
July 27, 2021
A real gem of a novel, wonderful. Brilliantly written, intelligent, insightful, original and a joy to read. It’s the tragic story of poet and Spanish Civil War veteran Francis McNulty, who is approaching the end of his life but increasingly haunted by his memories of that dreadful conflict. In Spain General Franco is also nearing the end of his life, but suddenly starts to appear to McNulty, in the street, sitting on the end of his bed even. A very real apparition. Simply an hallucination? Memory playing tricks? Dementia? Or a sign that perhaps it is now time for our tortured narrator to confront at last those demons that he cannot escape. Moving and yet often funny, expertly plotted and paced, with a unique narrator, I read the book almost at one sitting, so compelled was I to find out what happens. Highly recommended.
February 15, 2022
Francis McNulty is the best kind of unreliable narrator - caustic, witty, cantankerous and aware of his failing mind. Over the course of this entertaining and original novel Francis's troubled past and haunted present collide with a spirited gesture of atonement and defiance that had me laughing aloud. I can highly recommend this novel and would be keen to try earlier books by Patrick McGrath.
Many thanks to the publishers and Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for a honest review.
Many thanks to the publishers and Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for a honest review.
May 27, 2021
London, 1975. Francis McNulty, a veteran of the Spanish Civil War and now an old man, is haunted by visions of General Franco...
A few days on from finishing Last Days in Cleaver Square, I still have mixed feelings about it. The writing style of this novel is rather unusual and, although I did eventually become accustomed to it, I can't help feeling that it detracted from my enjoyment of the book as a whole.
My other quibble centres around the fact that the reader has to wait quite a while for the narrator to take us back to the Spain of the 1930s; these scenes when they finally arrive are intensely moving, but also frustratingly few. Whilst the protagonist's reluctance to revisit his painful past makes narrative sense, I would have liked a little more detail here.
Despite these qualms, I found this to be a thoughtfully written book. I liked the unreliability of the narrator. His voice felt real to me and his bitterness at life poignant.
If you're looking for a novel that will stay with you beyond the final page, this could very well be the book for you.
My thanks to NetGalley and Random House UK for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
A few days on from finishing Last Days in Cleaver Square, I still have mixed feelings about it. The writing style of this novel is rather unusual and, although I did eventually become accustomed to it, I can't help feeling that it detracted from my enjoyment of the book as a whole.
My other quibble centres around the fact that the reader has to wait quite a while for the narrator to take us back to the Spain of the 1930s; these scenes when they finally arrive are intensely moving, but also frustratingly few. Whilst the protagonist's reluctance to revisit his painful past makes narrative sense, I would have liked a little more detail here.
Despite these qualms, I found this to be a thoughtfully written book. I liked the unreliability of the narrator. His voice felt real to me and his bitterness at life poignant.
If you're looking for a novel that will stay with you beyond the final page, this could very well be the book for you.
My thanks to NetGalley and Random House UK for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
April 1, 2022
Lo trovo molto carino, esamina un contesto storico con cui non avevo molta familiarità ed è ricco di dettagli nonostante sia abbastanza corto
July 26, 2023
Non ho trovato la chiave di lettura, mi è sembrato piatto. Dell'autore ho amato moltissimo "Follia" e avevo aspettative altissime, questo è sicuramente un elemento che condiziona il mio giudizio, però ribadisco la mancanza di spunti, di sussulti, di invenzione. La scrittura è scorrevole ma si allinea alla trama senza guizzi.
November 10, 2025
Elegant and evocative writing
June 8, 2021
Such a clever read. An old man is haunted by the consequences of his past and an old betrayal. One of those books you finish and immediately want to read again because of missed nuances
May 24, 2021
‘I did it for Doc, whom I'd grievously betrayed, and about whom my guilt is a mordant canker which has gnawed at my innards for more years than I can remember, and this I only confess to you now, having deceived you as to my true condition, and pretended a soundness of mind and spirit which I frankly do not possess.'
There is no deception; we know that our dear narrator is unreliable, we do not know what is real or what is imagined, what is history or what is exaggerated - but that is part of the point I think, who of us can ever be entirely reliable?
Francis Mcnulty is coming to the end of his life, he fought in the Spanish Civil War and spent the years afterwards as a successful poet. He lives with his only daughter Gilly in his childhood home on Cleaver Square, but things are starting to move on; Gilly is engaged to be married and Francis is feeling his own mortality. He is visited regularly by a ghoul, an apparition, who Francis is convinced is General Franco who himself is close to death in Spain
Told, almost as a series of diary entries, Patrick McGrath's language is elegant and poetic yet it retains a breathtaking precision. Quoted as having the ability to expose our darkest fears without making us run away from them, he has the power to beguile his reader in a way that you are swept away and will happily follow wherever he takes you. And he takes you to the darkest of corners; the secret that has haunted for most of your life, the realisation that you cannot stop the passage of time; the inevitable end, but in a way that brings a quiet acceptance, a sense of calm. There is a humour in his writing, a smile, an encouraged chuckle and even actual laughter - his nuanced prose leaves you with a new friend, you care about Francis, he matters.
'For oh dear, it is a spartan business, this growing old, this cleaving to life, because it demands that you jettison so much that once had been the very zest and pith of life, and why? So that life, pithless, and sans zest, may continue, and the flesh, oh, the flesh, the sins of the flesh - they are as motes in a fading sunbeam. And how I do miss them. Yes.'
Dear, dear Francis McNulty will follow me and I will think of him, in the way that you do a cherished grandparent - the best of relatives; those frustrating, cantankerous humans, full of vigour and spirit. This novel tackles dark and difficult subject matter, but it left with the overriding feeling that aging is a privilege and an honour and above all something to embrace and kick the hell out of!
Thanks to #netgalley and #hutchinson for allowing me to read this ARC in return for an honest review.
There is no deception; we know that our dear narrator is unreliable, we do not know what is real or what is imagined, what is history or what is exaggerated - but that is part of the point I think, who of us can ever be entirely reliable?
Francis Mcnulty is coming to the end of his life, he fought in the Spanish Civil War and spent the years afterwards as a successful poet. He lives with his only daughter Gilly in his childhood home on Cleaver Square, but things are starting to move on; Gilly is engaged to be married and Francis is feeling his own mortality. He is visited regularly by a ghoul, an apparition, who Francis is convinced is General Franco who himself is close to death in Spain
Told, almost as a series of diary entries, Patrick McGrath's language is elegant and poetic yet it retains a breathtaking precision. Quoted as having the ability to expose our darkest fears without making us run away from them, he has the power to beguile his reader in a way that you are swept away and will happily follow wherever he takes you. And he takes you to the darkest of corners; the secret that has haunted for most of your life, the realisation that you cannot stop the passage of time; the inevitable end, but in a way that brings a quiet acceptance, a sense of calm. There is a humour in his writing, a smile, an encouraged chuckle and even actual laughter - his nuanced prose leaves you with a new friend, you care about Francis, he matters.
'For oh dear, it is a spartan business, this growing old, this cleaving to life, because it demands that you jettison so much that once had been the very zest and pith of life, and why? So that life, pithless, and sans zest, may continue, and the flesh, oh, the flesh, the sins of the flesh - they are as motes in a fading sunbeam. And how I do miss them. Yes.'
Dear, dear Francis McNulty will follow me and I will think of him, in the way that you do a cherished grandparent - the best of relatives; those frustrating, cantankerous humans, full of vigour and spirit. This novel tackles dark and difficult subject matter, but it left with the overriding feeling that aging is a privilege and an honour and above all something to embrace and kick the hell out of!
Thanks to #netgalley and #hutchinson for allowing me to read this ARC in return for an honest review.
February 19, 2025
Un viaggio nella mente di una persona anziana che sente di essere arrivato all’ultimo periodo della sua vita e si trova ad affrontare i fantasmi del suo passato. Un romanzo malinconico su come affrontare la vecchiaia il cui titolo originale, “ultimi giorni in Cleaver Square” mi sembra più calzante di quello dell’edizione italiana. A Londra nel 1975 Francis, poeta e reduce della guerra civile spagnola, ha superato i settanta e trascorre le giornate nella sua vecchia casa di famiglia; la figlia che vive ancora con lui è in procinto di sposarsi, la sorella vive lontano: il timore di restare solo si fa strada e in più è tormentato dall’apparizione saltuaria – per strada, in camera da letto, in giardino – di uno spirito forse demoniaco, un ghoul lo definisce, con le sembianze del generalissimo Francisco Franco che proprio in quel periodo era moribondo con una “agonia” destinata a durare diversi mesi, tenuto in vita quasi a forza per il timore della caduta del paese nel caos (e invece dopo la sua morte tornò la democrazia). Francis, che racconta in prima persona, non è uno che si piange addosso (solo qualche volta), indipendente e battagliero almeno sulla carta torna al periodo della guerra a Madrid dove faceva parte delle brigate internazionali, e a quando sfuggì alla fucilazione per un caso fortuito che gli pesa ancora come un macigno sulla coscienza. Leggendo tra le righe si rivela poi una persona ormai fragile (termine che odia) che pensa nei termini di “il mio ultimo autunno” che vede il giardino morire spoglio, che ha incubi notturni, che va al pub in ciabatte senza accorgersene, con la figlia apprensiva e protettiva, che complotta con la sorella e la donna di servizio e gli propone di trasferirsi nella sua nuova casa da sposata con il marito…
In definitiva Francis è un vecchietto con le sue defaillance ma ancora in grado di stupire con le sue uscite e le sue mattane come quella Madrid dove si reca proprio nei giorni della morte del Generalissimo… E il racconto procede snello con una dose di humour inglese che da quel brio fra tanta malinconia che invoglia a leggerlo fino alla fine. Dicono che Follia sia il suo romanzo migliore ma anche questo ha una sua ragione per essere letto. Tre stelle e mezzo
In definitiva Francis è un vecchietto con le sue defaillance ma ancora in grado di stupire con le sue uscite e le sue mattane come quella Madrid dove si reca proprio nei giorni della morte del Generalissimo… E il racconto procede snello con una dose di humour inglese che da quel brio fra tanta malinconia che invoglia a leggerlo fino alla fine. Dicono che Follia sia il suo romanzo migliore ma anche questo ha una sua ragione per essere letto. Tre stelle e mezzo
June 5, 2021
La lampada del diavolo è un lungo ricordo di un uomo, ormai giunto alla fine della sua vita, con un enorme segreto che lo perseguita da quarant’anni. Un segreto costellato da ombre che nascondono incarnazioni della morte. Perché la morte è la protagonista di questo romanzo, l’assoluta compagna che Francis McNulty ha cercato di tenere lontana durante la Guerra Civile spagnola. Una storia che lo stesso Francis, indiscusso protagonista, ci racconta, e lo fa con la pacata compostezza che deriva dal suo essere un poeta in declino. Nonostante siano trascorsi quarant’anni dall’anima nera che avvolse la Spagna nella figura del Generalissimo Franco, il povero Francis rivive costantemente quei ricordi che da un lato rappresentano la sua onta e dall’altro il suo coraggio. In quel periodo, infatti, decise di recarsi in Spagna per portare soccorso come autista di un’ambulanza, al fine di estirpare il fascismo e far valere la sua appartenenza alla razza umana.
La guerra, però, raramente è ordinata, mai pulita. Francis lo scoprirà sulla propria pelle, e terrà in vita il suo rimorso, un cancro venefico che gli corrode le viscere da anni e anni, sebbene abbia finto per tutto questo tempo una robustezza di mente e di spirito che non possiede.
La scelta della copertina del romanzo mi ha colpito molto, poiché raffigura un pover’uomo, vittima di un maleficio, che nelle profondità della notte cerca di tenere accesa la sua lanterna, perché nel caso si spegnesse la sua anima verrebbe ceduta al diavolo. Un quadro di Goya, che a parere del protagonista del libro è il più grande tra tutti i pittori spagnoli.
È complicato parlare di questa opera che per me è straordinaria. È una storia che mette a nudo le debolezze degli uomini, i rimorsi, gli errori, le colpe, l’essere stati coraggiosi o vili. L’esistenza di un uomo che è scisso tra ciò che è stato e quello che poteva essere, in un rimorso perenne. La mente o forse, addirittura, la nostra anima tormentata ci fa vedere fantasmi come una sorta di proiezione di ciò che viviamo dentro di noi.
Ho amato ogni singola parola, sentimenti e segreti che a lungo repressi hanno logorato l’anima di Francis. Un vecchio, folle, perseguitato e solo. Un uomo che a distanza di tanti anni, ancora non sa perché si sia messo in viaggio per andare a dare una mano ai repubblicani in Spagna.
Con una scrittura enfatica e ricca di descrizioni dettagliate, ci troviamo di fronte un romanzo in grado di far rivivere quelle voci che il franchismo ha annientato con le sue torture e fucilazioni di massa.
La guerra, però, raramente è ordinata, mai pulita. Francis lo scoprirà sulla propria pelle, e terrà in vita il suo rimorso, un cancro venefico che gli corrode le viscere da anni e anni, sebbene abbia finto per tutto questo tempo una robustezza di mente e di spirito che non possiede.
La scelta della copertina del romanzo mi ha colpito molto, poiché raffigura un pover’uomo, vittima di un maleficio, che nelle profondità della notte cerca di tenere accesa la sua lanterna, perché nel caso si spegnesse la sua anima verrebbe ceduta al diavolo. Un quadro di Goya, che a parere del protagonista del libro è il più grande tra tutti i pittori spagnoli.
È complicato parlare di questa opera che per me è straordinaria. È una storia che mette a nudo le debolezze degli uomini, i rimorsi, gli errori, le colpe, l’essere stati coraggiosi o vili. L’esistenza di un uomo che è scisso tra ciò che è stato e quello che poteva essere, in un rimorso perenne. La mente o forse, addirittura, la nostra anima tormentata ci fa vedere fantasmi come una sorta di proiezione di ciò che viviamo dentro di noi.
Ho amato ogni singola parola, sentimenti e segreti che a lungo repressi hanno logorato l’anima di Francis. Un vecchio, folle, perseguitato e solo. Un uomo che a distanza di tanti anni, ancora non sa perché si sia messo in viaggio per andare a dare una mano ai repubblicani in Spagna.
Con una scrittura enfatica e ricca di descrizioni dettagliate, ci troviamo di fronte un romanzo in grado di far rivivere quelle voci che il franchismo ha annientato con le sue torture e fucilazioni di massa.
May 23, 2021
Socialista all’acqua di rose
Francis McNulty è un poeta inglese, al tramonto di una vita che gli ha riservato un destino pesante: era tra gli inglesi che avevano scelto di aiutare la Spagna la cui libertà era sotto attacco da parte delle milizie del Generalissimo
nel 1975, anno della morte di Franco, durante il lungo periodo di malattia di questi, McNulty comincia a vederne l'ombra nel suo giardino a Londra e poi anche ai piedi del suo letto
la storia è raccontata a un giovane giornalista e alla figlia di Francis, quest'ultima si fa carico di accompagnare il padre a Madrid portandolo con sè nel suo viaggio di nozze con un diplomatico inglese...
"Non conviene guardare al passato. Il passato è quell'armadio pieno di scheletri di cui parlano gli inglesi" ci dice l'immortale Saramago, in effetti questo libro avrebbe potuto scriverlo anche Marìas che pure ebbe uno zio ammazzato per strada dalle milizie di Franco, eppure McGrath riesce a trarne un racconto pregno di Storia e di dolore, uno di quelli che tanto gli piacciono e che riescono bene agli inglesi " gente discreta, di poco sole e di ancor meno emozioni" (sempre Saramago)
il tocco è ammorbidito dal racconto di una passione senile per un bel giovanotto che si gioca l'attenzione del lettore con insinuazioni su torture ed esecuzioni notturne, descritte solo in parte e per fortuna alla fine, dove il peso della colpa risalta in tutto il suo splendore e il rimpianto per un perduto amore è tutto quel che resta...
Francis McNulty è un poeta inglese, al tramonto di una vita che gli ha riservato un destino pesante: era tra gli inglesi che avevano scelto di aiutare la Spagna la cui libertà era sotto attacco da parte delle milizie del Generalissimo
nel 1975, anno della morte di Franco, durante il lungo periodo di malattia di questi, McNulty comincia a vederne l'ombra nel suo giardino a Londra e poi anche ai piedi del suo letto
la storia è raccontata a un giovane giornalista e alla figlia di Francis, quest'ultima si fa carico di accompagnare il padre a Madrid portandolo con sè nel suo viaggio di nozze con un diplomatico inglese...
"Non conviene guardare al passato. Il passato è quell'armadio pieno di scheletri di cui parlano gli inglesi" ci dice l'immortale Saramago, in effetti questo libro avrebbe potuto scriverlo anche Marìas che pure ebbe uno zio ammazzato per strada dalle milizie di Franco, eppure McGrath riesce a trarne un racconto pregno di Storia e di dolore, uno di quelli che tanto gli piacciono e che riescono bene agli inglesi " gente discreta, di poco sole e di ancor meno emozioni" (sempre Saramago)
il tocco è ammorbidito dal racconto di una passione senile per un bel giovanotto che si gioca l'attenzione del lettore con insinuazioni su torture ed esecuzioni notturne, descritte solo in parte e per fortuna alla fine, dove il peso della colpa risalta in tutto il suo splendore e il rimpianto per un perduto amore è tutto quel che resta...
April 18, 2022
It is 1975. Francis McNulty is a wily old curmudgeon, settled in his tatty London house with his cat and his books, the pub across the square and his housekeeper, Delores Lopez living in the basement. He is a published poet but struggles to produce poetry now and indeed, his most recent pieces have gone astray. His daughter, Gilly, returned to live with him when her former relationship crumbled. His elder sister, Finty, arrives unannounced for a visit. Francis is very fond of Gilly and of Finty. He realises they have been colluding. Gilly is soon to marry Sir Percy Gauss and Francis has been seeing apparitions. What is to be done with him?
There is much more to this novel. The timing is significant. General Franco is dying. It is Franco’s ghost which is haunting Francis. Francis journeyed to the Spanish Civil War and worked alongside Doc Roscoe, an American doctor. Francis barely survived. The doc did not.
But again, there is more to this novel. Patrick McGrath has created in Francis McNulty an unreliable narrator at once entertaining, real and intensely likeable. He has created in this novel a story which appears to be slight but is multi-layered and multi-themed. The prose is high calibre. Its simplicity belies the humour and the pathos. I loved it. Highly recommended.
There is much more to this novel. The timing is significant. General Franco is dying. It is Franco’s ghost which is haunting Francis. Francis journeyed to the Spanish Civil War and worked alongside Doc Roscoe, an American doctor. Francis barely survived. The doc did not.
But again, there is more to this novel. Patrick McGrath has created in Francis McNulty an unreliable narrator at once entertaining, real and intensely likeable. He has created in this novel a story which appears to be slight but is multi-layered and multi-themed. The prose is high calibre. Its simplicity belies the humour and the pathos. I loved it. Highly recommended.
April 26, 2023
recensione completa qui: https://www.lunaticamente.com/recensi...
E' un'opera strana, malinconica che parla di un uomo alla fine della sua vita che viene assalito dai fantasmi del passato e rischiano di divorarlo se non cerca un modo per farci pace.
E' un uomo solitario che osserva il suo giardino morire come stesse guardando se stesso. Non ho trovato la solita inquietudine caratteristica di questo scrittore bensì tanta tristezza e paura.
E non sto dicendo che sia un lato negativo, anzi. Quelle sensazioni mi sono rimaste incollate per svariati giorni dopo la fine del libro.
Mi ha fatto riflettere e apprezzare molto di più la mia quotidianità. Ero partita con aspettative sbagliate, pensavo di trovarmi una storia inquietante e il titolo mi aveva fuorviato. Ma questa, a mio parere, è un'opera più "politica" e cruda, diversa da quello cui sono abituata se penso a McGrath.
Nonostante parliamo della guerra Civile Spagnola è un libro attuale. Tutte le guerre sono uguali e nessuno torna mai dal campo di battaglia, nemmeno se ha la fortuna di tornare a casa. Lo consiglio? Ovvio, è scritto bene, scorre che è un piacere e fa riflettere.
Vivi dunque, cogli tutti i giorni che ti son dati, e muori quando viene il tuo giorno;
senza dar troppo peso alla morte;
se non vuoi fare un tristo raccolto prima che venga il tuo giorno.
E' un'opera strana, malinconica che parla di un uomo alla fine della sua vita che viene assalito dai fantasmi del passato e rischiano di divorarlo se non cerca un modo per farci pace.
E' un uomo solitario che osserva il suo giardino morire come stesse guardando se stesso. Non ho trovato la solita inquietudine caratteristica di questo scrittore bensì tanta tristezza e paura.
E non sto dicendo che sia un lato negativo, anzi. Quelle sensazioni mi sono rimaste incollate per svariati giorni dopo la fine del libro.
Mi ha fatto riflettere e apprezzare molto di più la mia quotidianità. Ero partita con aspettative sbagliate, pensavo di trovarmi una storia inquietante e il titolo mi aveva fuorviato. Ma questa, a mio parere, è un'opera più "politica" e cruda, diversa da quello cui sono abituata se penso a McGrath.
Nonostante parliamo della guerra Civile Spagnola è un libro attuale. Tutte le guerre sono uguali e nessuno torna mai dal campo di battaglia, nemmeno se ha la fortuna di tornare a casa. Lo consiglio? Ovvio, è scritto bene, scorre che è un piacere e fa riflettere.
Vivi dunque, cogli tutti i giorni che ti son dati, e muori quando viene il tuo giorno;
senza dar troppo peso alla morte;
se non vuoi fare un tristo raccolto prima che venga il tuo giorno.
April 23, 2025
I wasn't sure what I would make of this book, based on first glance of the blurb, but I'm very glad I read it. Although not a lot happens in the first half of the story (and that's sort of the point), it really picks up halfway through.
You might think the detached and confused narrative voice of the protagonist, Francis McNulty, would deter anyone reading from becoming engaged with his fragmented recollection of his time as an ambulance driver in the Spanish Civil War. But really, Francis' vulnerability is touching, especially as he would hate anyone to tell him anything so patronising. You want to learn more, and the author feeds in additional details during Francis' interviews with a journalist.
Francis' final act of rebellion against Franco, who Francis believes is haunting him with appearances in Francis' bedroom and garden, is hilarious, although the poetry of the moment is lost on most other characters in the story. This peak is also tinged with sadness and guilt as it comes after Francis admits out loud, after decades, his part in the death of his best friend and lover during the war.
I loved how the author formed the story in such a circular way and that the last moments of the book come with reconciliation, relief, and the end. I'm also impressed that it actually made me feel sorry for old people...
You might think the detached and confused narrative voice of the protagonist, Francis McNulty, would deter anyone reading from becoming engaged with his fragmented recollection of his time as an ambulance driver in the Spanish Civil War. But really, Francis' vulnerability is touching, especially as he would hate anyone to tell him anything so patronising. You want to learn more, and the author feeds in additional details during Francis' interviews with a journalist.
Francis' final act of rebellion against Franco, who Francis believes is haunting him with appearances in Francis' bedroom and garden, is hilarious, although the poetry of the moment is lost on most other characters in the story. This peak is also tinged with sadness and guilt as it comes after Francis admits out loud, after decades, his part in the death of his best friend and lover during the war.
I loved how the author formed the story in such a circular way and that the last moments of the book come with reconciliation, relief, and the end. I'm also impressed that it actually made me feel sorry for old people...
April 2, 2021
A bittersweet and witty novel about an English poet and a veteran of the Spanish Civil war at the twilight of his life. Francis McNulty lives in a big house in South London with Gillian, his middle aged and unmarried daughter. An unreliable narrator, Francis is plagued by nightmares related to his experiences during the war and he is haunted by the ghost of his nemesis, a weeping and rather physically dilapidated General Franco. It should also be said that the story takes place in late 1975 and that Franco is agonizing in a Madrid hospital.......
A powerful story about fading memories, untold secrets and painful regrets and a delightful portrait of a frail but stubborn man determined to make amends before his last curtain call....But unbeknownst to him, "lucky" Francis will get a last opportunity to redeem himself with an unforgettable and hilarious act that will definitely allow him to shamelessly erase all his emotional angst and leave a very clean slate behind .....😉👍
A delicious fictional experience from start to finish to be enjoyed without moderation!
Many thanks to Netgalley and Random House/Corner Square for giving me the opportunity to read this wonderful novel prior to its release date
A powerful story about fading memories, untold secrets and painful regrets and a delightful portrait of a frail but stubborn man determined to make amends before his last curtain call....But unbeknownst to him, "lucky" Francis will get a last opportunity to redeem himself with an unforgettable and hilarious act that will definitely allow him to shamelessly erase all his emotional angst and leave a very clean slate behind .....😉👍
A delicious fictional experience from start to finish to be enjoyed without moderation!
Many thanks to Netgalley and Random House/Corner Square for giving me the opportunity to read this wonderful novel prior to its release date
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