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Exile
Representing the earliest example of modernist fiction in Irish, this narrative follows Micil O'Maolain, who has been hit by a car shortly after arriving from Galway to look for work. Emerging from the hospital, he has lost an arm and a leg, and his face has been disfigured. He becomes a sideshow freak to support himself, traveling around England and even back to Galway, but he eventually returns to London, where he dies, down and out, in one of the city's parks.
160 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1910
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About the author
Pádraic Ó Conaire
64 books10 followersÓ Conaire was born in Galway in 1882. His father was a publican, who owned two premises in the town. His mother was Kate McDonagh.
After the collapse of his business, his father was forced to emigrate to the United States of America, where he died shortly afterwards. Ó Conaire's mother died in 1893, with the result that the orphaned Ó Conaire (and his brothers Isaac and Michael) were sent to live with their uncle Patrick Conroy in Ros Muc. He attended school in Turlach Beag, having previously gone to the Presentation Convent and The 'Bish' in Galway. He subsequently he went to Rockwell College and Blackrock College.
He emigrated to London in 1899 where he got a job with the Board of Education. He became involved in the work of the Gaelic League. A pioneer in the Irish Literary Revival in this century, Ó Conaire and Pádraig Pearse are regarded as being the two most important Irish language short story writers during the first decades of the 20th century.
He was married to Molly Ní Mhanais, with whom he had four children: Eileen (born 22 February 1905), Patrick (born 3 November 1906), Kathleen (born 24 February 1909, and Mary Josephine (28 July 1911–1922) who died of diphtheria.
Ó Conaire returned to Ireland in 1914, leaving his family in London. Living mostly in Galway, he earned a meagre living through writing, teaching at Gaeltacht summer schools, and as an occasional organiser for the Gaelic League.
He died on a visit to Dublin in 1928 after complaining of internal pains while at the head office of the Gaelic League. He was 46.
A statue to his memory was erected in 1935 in the John F. Kennedy Memorial Park in the heart of Galway City, at Eyre Square Eyre Square.
After the collapse of his business, his father was forced to emigrate to the United States of America, where he died shortly afterwards. Ó Conaire's mother died in 1893, with the result that the orphaned Ó Conaire (and his brothers Isaac and Michael) were sent to live with their uncle Patrick Conroy in Ros Muc. He attended school in Turlach Beag, having previously gone to the Presentation Convent and The 'Bish' in Galway. He subsequently he went to Rockwell College and Blackrock College.
He emigrated to London in 1899 where he got a job with the Board of Education. He became involved in the work of the Gaelic League. A pioneer in the Irish Literary Revival in this century, Ó Conaire and Pádraig Pearse are regarded as being the two most important Irish language short story writers during the first decades of the 20th century.
He was married to Molly Ní Mhanais, with whom he had four children: Eileen (born 22 February 1905), Patrick (born 3 November 1906), Kathleen (born 24 February 1909, and Mary Josephine (28 July 1911–1922) who died of diphtheria.
Ó Conaire returned to Ireland in 1914, leaving his family in London. Living mostly in Galway, he earned a meagre living through writing, teaching at Gaeltacht summer schools, and as an occasional organiser for the Gaelic League.
He died on a visit to Dublin in 1928 after complaining of internal pains while at the head office of the Gaelic League. He was 46.
A statue to his memory was erected in 1935 in the John F. Kennedy Memorial Park in the heart of Galway City, at Eyre Square Eyre Square.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
January 6, 2023
This is proletarian literature, humorous and not preachy. It’s overflowing with sympathy for workers and for individuals whose lives never started, sometimes despite their best efforts. It starts with a man who, seeking to earn enough money to marry the woman he fancies, travels from small-town Ireland to London. There his hopes are quickly destroyed when a terrible car accident involving him as a pedestrian steals one leg and one arm, rendering him seemingly unemployable. His settlement money slowly dwindles and he joins a freak show to survive.
The fate of himself and his fellow employed Freaks in the freak show is one many you grew up with and maybe even you are racing towards for capital: to be crippled, all broke up, old and slow, morbidly bloated from adrenal fatigue and the spoils of augmented survival, or no longer recognizable to yourself and others in appearance or personality, or on the verge of premature, preventable death. Some things you might rather pretend are inevitable or even positive than confront.
It’s the same fate as the crowd of female workers later on celebrating the burning down of the poisonous factory which had harmed so many of them, perhaps producing more freaks suited for the freak show. We’ve all done things for money that we aren’t proud of. In both cases, many of the workers find unemployment to be a worse prospect. While not emphasized, here and elsewhere there is a constant hinting at the role choices play, as if the book is trying to poke around and stumble upon an answer to just how much or how little that role is.
Importantly, Exile overflows with a sympathy that is not just concerning the conditions of the downtrodden but which remains concerned and understanding for the things the downtrodden do to themselves. I found the narrator’s self-sabotaging behavior frustrating at times before I reminded myself of the psychological effects of hunger (in all its forms).
“Who invented right and wrong but people with full stomachs?” — pg. 22
The fate of himself and his fellow employed Freaks in the freak show is one many you grew up with and maybe even you are racing towards for capital: to be crippled, all broke up, old and slow, morbidly bloated from adrenal fatigue and the spoils of augmented survival, or no longer recognizable to yourself and others in appearance or personality, or on the verge of premature, preventable death. Some things you might rather pretend are inevitable or even positive than confront.
It’s the same fate as the crowd of female workers later on celebrating the burning down of the poisonous factory which had harmed so many of them, perhaps producing more freaks suited for the freak show. We’ve all done things for money that we aren’t proud of. In both cases, many of the workers find unemployment to be a worse prospect. While not emphasized, here and elsewhere there is a constant hinting at the role choices play, as if the book is trying to poke around and stumble upon an answer to just how much or how little that role is.
Importantly, Exile overflows with a sympathy that is not just concerning the conditions of the downtrodden but which remains concerned and understanding for the things the downtrodden do to themselves. I found the narrator’s self-sabotaging behavior frustrating at times before I reminded myself of the psychological effects of hunger (in all its forms).
“Who invented right and wrong but people with full stomachs?” — pg. 22
January 26, 2026
Δεν με εντυπωσίασε σε τίποτα. Πολύ μελό, πολύ ρηχό, μοιάζει έκθεση γραμμένη από δεκατετράχρονο.
Να φταίει η μετάφραση; Η μεταφράστρια είναι σπουδαία στις Αραβικές δουλειές της και καλή συγγραφέας η ίδια. Ο εκδοτικός Οίκος; Σίγουρα όταν ο άλλος είναι κυρίως γνωστός για την επιμονή του στη χρήση της τόσο ιδιαίτερης και μουσικής Ιρλανδικής γλώσσας, σε μια εποχή μάλιστα που κόντευε να αφανιστεί πλήρως, κι εσύ το έργο του το μεταφράζεις από τα Αγγλικά... κάτι δεν κάνεις σωστά.
Να φταίει η μετάφραση; Η μεταφράστρια είναι σπουδαία στις Αραβικές δουλειές της και καλή συγγραφέας η ίδια. Ο εκδοτικός Οίκος; Σίγουρα όταν ο άλλος είναι κυρίως γνωστός για την επιμονή του στη χρήση της τόσο ιδιαίτερης και μουσικής Ιρλανδικής γλώσσας, σε μια εποχή μάλιστα που κόντευε να αφανιστεί πλήρως, κι εσύ το έργο του το μεταφράζεις από τα Αγγλικά... κάτι δεν κάνεις σωστά.
October 4, 2017
A remarkable, intensely-painted picture of poverty, degradation, and hunger, told with surprising humor at a conversational remove from literary artifice (which is its own kind of artifice, of course). The first-person narrator could easily be taken as a synecdoche for Ireland itself over the past several centuries (it was published in 1910), particularly in relation to the bigger, richer island to the east: mutilated, castaway, humiliated, and enraged, he longs both to take his revenge and to be left in peace, but the floating carnival of life carries him with it regardless.
Called the first modernist novel written in Irish, it's rather more in the spirit of Yeats than of Joyce: unmediated passions, striking images, and (unspoken) social criticism dominate it far more than Jesuitical analysis, Freudian self-absorption, and language play. Then again, I could only read a translation: maybe the original language is a wonder too. The translation tends to be rather baldly declarative, which turned out to be fine once I slipped into the rhythm: even at its grimmest, there's still the hint of a wink, a master story-teller letting you know he's got it all under control.
Called the first modernist novel written in Irish, it's rather more in the spirit of Yeats than of Joyce: unmediated passions, striking images, and (unspoken) social criticism dominate it far more than Jesuitical analysis, Freudian self-absorption, and language play. Then again, I could only read a translation: maybe the original language is a wonder too. The translation tends to be rather baldly declarative, which turned out to be fine once I slipped into the rhythm: even at its grimmest, there's still the hint of a wink, a master story-teller letting you know he's got it all under control.
December 25, 2024
Δεν μπορώ να πω ότι έκλαψα για τον κακόμοιρο τον Μάικελ, τον σακάτη πρωταγωνιστή της ιστορίας, γιατί από ένα σημείο και μετά τα 'θελε και τα 'παθε, όμως σίγουρα η ιστορία του με άγγιξε, αλλά και με διασκέδασε, μιας και δεν ήταν λίγες οι κωμικοτραγικές σκηνές, όπως επίσης και το κλασικό κατάμαυρο ιρλανδικό χιούμορ (βλέπε Μάρτιν ΜακΝτόνα). Θα έλεγε κανείς ότι είναι μια προλεταριακή ιστορία φτώχειας και καταπίεσης, πείνας και μιζέριας, ένα θλιβερό και υπαρξιστικό οδοιπορικό στον φτωχόκοσμο, αλλά με μπόλικες νότες μαύρης κωμωδίας. Θυμίζει λίγο θεματικά την Πείνα του Κνουτ Χάμσουν, αν και το στιλ και ύφος γραφής είναι αρκετά διαφορετικό. Γενικά, είναι ένα πολύ καλογραμμένο και ενδιαφέρον μικρό ιρλανδικό μυθιστόρημα των αρχών του 20ου αιώνα, που μέσω των λίγων σελίδων του αναδεικνύει με γλαφυρό τρόπο έναν ολόκληρο κόσμο. Πολύ μου άρεσε, αν και απέχει πολύ από το πνεύμα των Χριστουγέννων!
June 5, 2019
I’d actually had read some of O Conaire’s stories in high school, but truly forgot about him until seeing the wonderful statue erected in his honor in Galway. “Exile” is his only novel and I have to say I enjoy his short stories better. Part of it is that this story involves a circus, and I’ve just never been a fan of the circus. It’s also pretty dark, yet in O Conaire fashion, still humorous. He is able to do great character development in just a few words. Like his short stories, this was originally written in Gaelic, so maybe something got lost in translation, but am thinking not as this was a fairly recent translation. I truly recommend the works of O Conaire, just not sure about this one unless you’ve read his other works. .
October 3, 2019
Reminiscent of early modernist books such as Knut Hamsun's 'Hunger', Exile by Pádraic Ó Conaire paints a bleak and existential picture of life on the bread line. Originally written as Gaeilge, Exile is rife with absurdist black Irish humor akin to Beckett or of the films of Martin McDonagh. Vivid imagery, strong storytelling and an easy, enjoyable read. An underrated figure of Irish literature.
(8.3)
(8.3)
January 1, 2021
Tá na radharcanna go luath sa leabhar i London scríofa go hana-mhaith, tá sé ar nós úrscéalta móra le rá i dteangacha móra an domhain ón gcéad chuid den bhfichiú aois. Ach ní maith liom conas a chríochnaíonn an scéal. Caillean sé fuinneamh, nó b'fhéidir fócas. Ach tá atmaisféar na coismhuintire i London thar barr agus mholfainn d' éinne an leabhar seo a léamh.
October 17, 2022
Tohle je bizár. Ale dobrej bizár. Jen chvílemi až moc bizár na můj vkus. Každopádně to stojí za přečtení, už jen proto, že je to první moderní román v irštině. Překlad je skvělý a doslov poskytne potřebný kontext i neznalým irské historie.
July 14, 2020
Không có gì đặc sắc lắm, chỉ cảm thấy may mắn là mình có đủ chân tay.
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April 11, 2024Vyhnanství, přel. Daniela Furthnerová, Praha 2004
January 31, 2011
Musím přiznat, že cokoliv jsem se tu snažil o knize napsat, tak ji vystihovalo v jiném světle, než bylo záměrem. Můj pocit jinak než pěti hvězdičkami (číselně bych dal 90 %) prozatím vyjádřit nedokážu. Proto snad jen pár bodů:
* Kniha byla napsána v irštině a z ní také přeložena (překlad se mi líbil).
* Tématy je stesk po domově, chudoba, hlad.
* Hlavní postava podmanivě až romanticky vzpomíná na domovinu, přičemž stav, ve kterém se nachází, se autor nebojí popsat naturalisticky.
* Pěkné rozuzlení.
* Doslov není plytké plácání, ale je kvalitně zpracovaný.
* Nedivil bych se, kdyby touto knihou nebyl inspirován Samuel Beckett.
* Kniha byla napsána v irštině a z ní také přeložena (překlad se mi líbil).
* Tématy je stesk po domově, chudoba, hlad.
* Hlavní postava podmanivě až romanticky vzpomíná na domovinu, přičemž stav, ve kterém se nachází, se autor nebojí popsat naturalisticky.
* Pěkné rozuzlení.
* Doslov není plytké plácání, ale je kvalitně zpracovaný.
* Nedivil bych se, kdyby touto knihou nebyl inspirován Samuel Beckett.
April 30, 2016
It took me about 50 pages to get used to the writing style, as I thought the 1st person narration sounded a bit like a blowhard in a pub banging on about his life and unfortunate exploits; I was very dubious that this novel would have anything interesting or meaningful to say. I am glad I stuck with.
June 20, 2012
Was given Padraic O'Conaire to read as an Irish Literature assignment and he is now on my top list of favorite Irish authors. Love his descriptive style. He paints an endearing picture of his scenes and characters.
January 18, 2014
Brilliant!
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews