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Cells: memories for my mother
‘Are you going into town today?’ she says, which annoys me because it’s something she says all the time, having forgotten she said it before, and I say, ‘Jesus, Mum, not this again,’ and she says, ‘What again?’ and I say, ‘Town is shut down,’ and while she can see I am upset and wants not to upset me like this, she is also wounded by my tone, and I am ashamed then and can only look at my plate, and I decide not to bring up what I intended to bring up, about the past, and about my need for her to apologise for it.
Gavin is spending the quarantine in a small flat in south Dublin with his eighty-year-old mother, whose mind is slowly slipping away. He has lived most of his adult life abroad and has returned home to care for her and to write a novel. But he finds that all he can write about is her.
Moving through a sequence of remembered rooms — the ‘cells’ — Gavin unspools an intimate story of his upbringing and early adulthood: feeling out of place in the insular suburb in which he grew up, the homophobic bullying he suffered at school, his brother’s mental illness and drug addiction, his father’s sudden death, his own devastating diagnosis, his struggles and triumphs as a writer, and above all, always, his relationship with his mother. Her brightness shines a light over his childhood, but her betrayal of his teenage self leads to years of resentment and disconnection. Now, he must find a way to reconcile with her, before it is too late.
Written with unusual frankness and urgency, Cells is at once an uncovering of filial love and its limits, and a coming to terms with separation and loss.
Gavin is spending the quarantine in a small flat in south Dublin with his eighty-year-old mother, whose mind is slowly slipping away. He has lived most of his adult life abroad and has returned home to care for her and to write a novel. But he finds that all he can write about is her.
Moving through a sequence of remembered rooms — the ‘cells’ — Gavin unspools an intimate story of his upbringing and early adulthood: feeling out of place in the insular suburb in which he grew up, the homophobic bullying he suffered at school, his brother’s mental illness and drug addiction, his father’s sudden death, his own devastating diagnosis, his struggles and triumphs as a writer, and above all, always, his relationship with his mother. Her brightness shines a light over his childhood, but her betrayal of his teenage self leads to years of resentment and disconnection. Now, he must find a way to reconcile with her, before it is too late.
Written with unusual frankness and urgency, Cells is at once an uncovering of filial love and its limits, and a coming to terms with separation and loss.
336 pages, Paperback
Published October 5, 2022
9 people are currently reading
363 people want to read
About the author
Gavin McCrea
8 books38 followersGavin McCrea was born in 1978 and has since travelled widely, living in Japan, Belgium and Italy, among other places. He holds a BA and an MA from University College Dublin, and an MA and a PhD from the University of East Anglia. He currently divides his time between the UK and Spain.
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Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
June 18, 2024
Quina meravella de narració. Uns "records per la mare", que també són unes memòries sobre créixer al Dublín dels anys 80s i 90s, sobre la història familiar, la consciència de classe, la salut mental, l'VIH, el confinament...amb la dosi justa de psicoanàlisi. M'ha recordat, una mica, al David Vilaseca, però menys tortuós i més generós. Delícia.
December 12, 2022
Extremely raw and intense. The writing is always sharp, intelligent and self-aware. An absolutely remarkable book. A bravura performance! I remember learning of the author’s brutal attack by a gang of teenage boys in Dublin. That event, combined by the pandemic lockdown, was the impetus for the lacerating memoir that followed.
October 25, 2022
I enjoyed Gavin McCrea's two novels very much. MRS ENGELS is a tour de force of voice, narrated by the illiterate common-law Irish factory worker wife of Friedrich Engels, a woman with a lot of opinions and feelings and an unforgettable way with words: by turns lyrical, raunchy and hilarious. THE SISTERS MAO is a more diffuse and ambitious work, dealing with Madame Mao in the waning days of the Cultural Revolution and two sisters in London of approximately the same era with leftist views and a complicated family history.
Both of them are sui generis and full of surprises, not just on every page, but pretty much in every sentence. I am all awed admiration of anyone writing like this, so fearless and original. You can't help wondering, how did this person get this way? Where do such gifts actually come from?
Though there can obviously never be a simple answer to such a question, I was nonetheless excited to read McCrea's memoir, which promised at least part of an answer. And delivered.
It is framed by the pandemic. McCrea, by then the author of the first novel mentioned above and well on his way with the second, has returned to his native Ireland (which he fled as soon as he could, for reasons that later become clear) to take advantage of a temporary teaching job. For economy's sake and because she's failing a bit, he is living with his mother, but living as emotionally distantly as possible, spending his days writing in the library. He has not forgiven her something that happened in his teenage years, which we as readers also don't know about yet. He wants to bring it up, but he can't, not yet. They are going along, not really talking about it.
Then the pandemic hits, and they are forced into a new proximity, physical and emotional. Instead of starting his third novel as planned, he starts writing about his life, and in particular his mother.
The story of McCrea's growing up and becoming a writer is in no small part the story of his family life: his birth order, the circumstances of his parents' marriage and particularly the remarkable personality of his mother, forced by circumstance to leave school at 14 but a serious reader and art lover, attentive to everything, quick-witted, determined. He was the cossetted youngest child, the adorable and smart one, basking in his mother's attention, his sense that he was the favorite. Such a childhood, I imagine, can take one far in life. Regardless of what happens later (and lots of bad things did happen later) there must be an underlying sense of confidence, of self-belief that allows one to take oneself and one's work seriously and write bravely.
If it also sounds like the recipe for creating a person of insufferable self-importance -- well, no. Young Gavin gets a little older and ends up attending exactly the wrong sort of high school for a brilliant, effeminate boy. That his mother fails to notice that it's the wrong school, or do anything about it once the fact becomes clear, lands as a huge betrayal. He is no longer anything special to his mother. The accounts of the bullying he faced, in school and in the neighborhood, as a teenager were so distressing to read that I had to take a break from the book for a couple of weeks. I could not bear to even read about what another person had actually had to live through, which is an indictment of me, not the book. Also: it was the 1990s, for fuck's sake! This should not have been happening!
Also, some other bad things later, but I am not going to summarize the entire plot, having probably already gone too far in that direction. It's beautifully written, which does not surprise me, and also has an ingenious structure, so that the sometimes random happenings of a life acquire the narrative heft and arc of a novel -- the secret of a good memoir.
If you have read and enjoyed MRS ENGELS or THE SISTERS MAO, you will love CELLS. And if you haven't, well. Read them now. If you love them as I did, then come back to CELLS.
Both of them are sui generis and full of surprises, not just on every page, but pretty much in every sentence. I am all awed admiration of anyone writing like this, so fearless and original. You can't help wondering, how did this person get this way? Where do such gifts actually come from?
Though there can obviously never be a simple answer to such a question, I was nonetheless excited to read McCrea's memoir, which promised at least part of an answer. And delivered.
It is framed by the pandemic. McCrea, by then the author of the first novel mentioned above and well on his way with the second, has returned to his native Ireland (which he fled as soon as he could, for reasons that later become clear) to take advantage of a temporary teaching job. For economy's sake and because she's failing a bit, he is living with his mother, but living as emotionally distantly as possible, spending his days writing in the library. He has not forgiven her something that happened in his teenage years, which we as readers also don't know about yet. He wants to bring it up, but he can't, not yet. They are going along, not really talking about it.
Then the pandemic hits, and they are forced into a new proximity, physical and emotional. Instead of starting his third novel as planned, he starts writing about his life, and in particular his mother.
The story of McCrea's growing up and becoming a writer is in no small part the story of his family life: his birth order, the circumstances of his parents' marriage and particularly the remarkable personality of his mother, forced by circumstance to leave school at 14 but a serious reader and art lover, attentive to everything, quick-witted, determined. He was the cossetted youngest child, the adorable and smart one, basking in his mother's attention, his sense that he was the favorite. Such a childhood, I imagine, can take one far in life. Regardless of what happens later (and lots of bad things did happen later) there must be an underlying sense of confidence, of self-belief that allows one to take oneself and one's work seriously and write bravely.
If it also sounds like the recipe for creating a person of insufferable self-importance -- well, no. Young Gavin gets a little older and ends up attending exactly the wrong sort of high school for a brilliant, effeminate boy. That his mother fails to notice that it's the wrong school, or do anything about it once the fact becomes clear, lands as a huge betrayal. He is no longer anything special to his mother. The accounts of the bullying he faced, in school and in the neighborhood, as a teenager were so distressing to read that I had to take a break from the book for a couple of weeks. I could not bear to even read about what another person had actually had to live through, which is an indictment of me, not the book. Also: it was the 1990s, for fuck's sake! This should not have been happening!
Also, some other bad things later, but I am not going to summarize the entire plot, having probably already gone too far in that direction. It's beautifully written, which does not surprise me, and also has an ingenious structure, so that the sometimes random happenings of a life acquire the narrative heft and arc of a novel -- the secret of a good memoir.
If you have read and enjoyed MRS ENGELS or THE SISTERS MAO, you will love CELLS. And if you haven't, well. Read them now. If you love them as I did, then come back to CELLS.
September 19, 2024
5/5 stars
some of things this man wrote about hit me so hard in the chest, it felt like I was knocked out my a wrestler whacking me with a shovel. I might add some quotes to this review tomorrow because the amount of self reflection he portrayed in his writing was indescribable without simply referring to his own words.
i cried three or for times, yelled "what the fuck" AT the book and couldn't close my jaw because I couldn't believe what I was reading. such a huge five star read for me, I can't even describe it.
some of things this man wrote about hit me so hard in the chest, it felt like I was knocked out my a wrestler whacking me with a shovel. I might add some quotes to this review tomorrow because the amount of self reflection he portrayed in his writing was indescribable without simply referring to his own words.
i cried three or for times, yelled "what the fuck" AT the book and couldn't close my jaw because I couldn't believe what I was reading. such a huge five star read for me, I can't even describe it.
August 5, 2023
This was such a raw, honest memoir that truly held nothing back. Gavin's story was simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting, and he did an amazing job tying everything together. The writing style and contrast between the interludes and "cells" were done very well and kept me engaged throughout.
November 13, 2022
Amidst the anxiety and tumult of the recent lockdown, being restricted indoors for long periods of time inspired many people to seriously reflect about both the past and future. Slightly before the pandemic, novelist Gavin McCrea (author of the excellent “Mrs Engels” and “The Sisters Mao”) had moved back in with his mother in Dublin during a writing residency. While there he worked to complete his second novel and care for his mother who showed signs of early dementia. As the country locked down, he found himself confined in the home and country which he'd previously vowed never to return to. Amidst the relatively peaceful daily routines in the rooms/cells of this small apartment, a tension mounted regarding unresolved issues to do with McCrea's uniquely challenging upbringing and school life where he experienced years of daily homophobic abuse. He deeply felt that “The problem was that I did not feel at home in my own home.” This account is his personal reckoning with that history, a confrontation with the woman who gave birth to him and an account of the formation of his distinct artistic sensibility.
It's a heartrending experience reading about McCrea's strife in his family and community which naturally leads to intense feelings of pain, suffering, anger, frustration and isolation. However, he is not self-pitying. Instead he seeks to articulate and understand his position and the factors which lead to this situation.
Read my full review of Cells by Gavin McCrea at LonesomeReader
It's a heartrending experience reading about McCrea's strife in his family and community which naturally leads to intense feelings of pain, suffering, anger, frustration and isolation. However, he is not self-pitying. Instead he seeks to articulate and understand his position and the factors which lead to this situation.
Read my full review of Cells by Gavin McCrea at LonesomeReader
February 7, 2025
This is biography of Gavin McCrea. We follow his upbringing in Ireland. His childhood as a gay youth is coloured by bullying and a dysfunctional family. His voice is distinctively different to other Irish authors I have read. There is a bit of a hardened heart from life's trials that we see in this novel. There is much here that I related to like the bullying, the family issues, the grappling with a mother figure who is equally saviour and sinner. I liked this book immensely. One think that could have made it better is that I found the author sometimes belaboured issues. He would talk about a particular problem and it seemed he dwelled on it for many pages. I just found this took away from the flow of the novel. It made it klunky at times. There is a wealth of tales here, but some of them went on too long. But still loved his book despite this. I will probably read his fiction at some point as well. I give his a 4.5/5.
November 28, 2022
https://denisenewtonwrites.com/?p=3903
The writing is infused with love, and humour, and beautiful prose about often difficult subjects. I finished this book with a greater understanding of the range of human experiences and the ways in which family relationships contribute to an individual’s life trajectory.
Gavin McCrea
Cells: memories for my mother
The writing is infused with love, and humour, and beautiful prose about often difficult subjects. I finished this book with a greater understanding of the range of human experiences and the ways in which family relationships contribute to an individual’s life trajectory.
Gavin McCrea
Cells: memories for my mother
July 26, 2023
I found this book difficult to get into at first but eventually was able to settle into and appreciate the author's introspection. McCrea plumbs a lot of uncomfortable and off-putting, but deeply honest emotions regarding his relationships with his family and his partners. At times, I found his feelings and relationships deeply relatable and at other times entirely foreign, but they always felt raw and immediate while also being fully examined in the light.
His reflections, later in the book, on the nature of homophobia as well as his confrontation with his mother and the realization that it has not and cannot bring him catharsis were particularly well-written and meaningful to me.
His reflections, later in the book, on the nature of homophobia as well as his confrontation with his mother and the realization that it has not and cannot bring him catharsis were particularly well-written and meaningful to me.
April 15, 2023
A very psychodynamically and Freudian based memoir… written perhaps after many reflections on how McCrea’s early life experiences in relation to his mum, dad, siblings, and peers have shaped him into becoming who he is today. I did find his memoir hard to follow and it was not till the second half or final third of the book that I started to settle into his story a bit more; I often found it hard to connect with his writing and found the narrative at times too mundane. Though, I applaud McCrea for writing with such earnestness and vulnerability.
October 20, 2025
Reading Cells by Gavin McCrea was an unexpectedly emotional experience. His portrayal of 1980s Dublin—its grit, its lack of tenderness, and the weight of its silences—struck a deep chord with me. Having grown up in Dublin during that same era, I recognised, the family dynamics, the societal ways and the unspoken emotional undercurrents. McCrea writes with both precision and compassion, weaving together themes of memory, shame, and love in a way that feels profoundly human. This book has stayed with me through the aspects that I recognised, portraying the depth of emotional resonance.
April 29, 2023
This is an excellent book. Very moving, at times painfully raw and truthful but other times I laughed out loud (in a very Irish way I feel). This book made me want to be the best mother possible in the future but also not want to be a mother at all for fear of failure. A very interesting read.
August 20, 2023
so intensely personal it feels almost voyeuristic - at terms verging on self-indulgent - to read, it’s nuanced memoir of two relationships: with yourself and with your family (oh, and mccrea maybe loves parentheses a little too much)
October 15, 2023
An open, honest memoir of the author's experiences especially caring for his ageing mother in lockdown, wonderfully written in a way that is vulnerable, literary and engaging.
With thanks to Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
With thanks to Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
March 5, 2025
Outstanding book & beautifully written.
I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Well done to quite obviously a very gifted author.
Thank you for such an authentic, honest account on your family's life. I'm sure there are many people that will resonate with it
I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Well done to quite obviously a very gifted author.
Thank you for such an authentic, honest account on your family's life. I'm sure there are many people that will resonate with it
Want to read
December 26, 2022Recommended to me by Nancy!
July 13, 2023
Brilliantly written. Beautiful and headtbreaking story.
November 27, 2024
It is a beautifully written book with raw, uncomfortable, but recognizable truths. Highly recommended.
May 28, 2024
Probably the most powerful book I’ve read ( to date ) on family dynamics.
April 26, 2023
This book is exceptional.
McCrea is deeply honest- almost to a fault. Indeed, he notes in the acknowledgements that he did not show anyone in advance how they would be portrayed, and in the best possible way, it shows.
This radical honesty allows him to get away with observations and comments that I can imagine would be almost unconscionable if you had to imagine those same people reading it.
This honesty frees him up to do a great deal more than even that- he is able to dig into some of the deepest soul-searching possible, at times lacerating himself for moments of cruelty or being careless, and at times coming to startlingly clear revelations. In particular, those concerning his relationship with his mother.
This book, as the subtitle 'Memories For My Mother' suggests, is in many ways a tribute, love letter and argument with his mother. Whereas that sounds like it could jar, McCrea's great skill is making those contradictions work, and in so doing, revealing the truly complicated nature of family relationships.
The 'Cells' of the book's title appear in the book as the cells that make up a body or disease, but also the spaces we occupy around each other- companionably or as in prison, and as the book unfolds, the sheer brilliance of this title becomes increasingly poignant.
All of this is to say nothing of the prose itself, which is piercing, wise, brutal, and tender. He glides through scenes of violence, arguments, tender embraces and bad news with precision and beauty, and I regularly just had to pause, re-read a line, and once again give into the beautiful difficulty of this book.
I received an advance copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
McCrea is deeply honest- almost to a fault. Indeed, he notes in the acknowledgements that he did not show anyone in advance how they would be portrayed, and in the best possible way, it shows.
This radical honesty allows him to get away with observations and comments that I can imagine would be almost unconscionable if you had to imagine those same people reading it.
This honesty frees him up to do a great deal more than even that- he is able to dig into some of the deepest soul-searching possible, at times lacerating himself for moments of cruelty or being careless, and at times coming to startlingly clear revelations. In particular, those concerning his relationship with his mother.
This book, as the subtitle 'Memories For My Mother' suggests, is in many ways a tribute, love letter and argument with his mother. Whereas that sounds like it could jar, McCrea's great skill is making those contradictions work, and in so doing, revealing the truly complicated nature of family relationships.
The 'Cells' of the book's title appear in the book as the cells that make up a body or disease, but also the spaces we occupy around each other- companionably or as in prison, and as the book unfolds, the sheer brilliance of this title becomes increasingly poignant.
All of this is to say nothing of the prose itself, which is piercing, wise, brutal, and tender. He glides through scenes of violence, arguments, tender embraces and bad news with precision and beauty, and I regularly just had to pause, re-read a line, and once again give into the beautiful difficulty of this book.
I received an advance copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
December 27, 2024
Read if you're a gay, miserable, former gifted child who prefers to love their family from a distance. Even if you don't fit this description, McCrea's writing is so reflective and profound that you can still take so much away from it. 5 stars.
Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews