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The Thomas Flanagan Trilogy #1
The Year of the French
The year was 1798, when a band of determined, romantic Irishmen rose up in the County Mayo against their English rulers and were joined in their heroic dream by the troops of revolutionary France. The arrival of Kileummin Bay of the French was the signal for that war of liberation to begin.
Thomas Flanagan made an astonishing debut with this landmark novel of a legendary episode of Irish history. Eloquent and enriching, The Year of the French was named the most distinguished work of fiction in 1979 by the National Book Critics's circle.
642 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published July 19, 1979
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4352 people want to read
About the author
Thomas Flanagan
87 books41 followersThomas Flanagan (November 5, 1923 – March 21, 2002) was an American professor of English literature who specialized in Irish literature. He was also a successful novelist. Flanagan, who was born in Greenwich, Connecticut, graduated from Amherst College in 1945. He was a tenured full - Professor in the English Department at the University of California, Berkeley until his retirement. Flanagan died in 2002, at the age of 78, in Berkeley.
He won the National Book Critics Circle Award in 1979. The Archives and Special Collections at Amherst College holds his papers.
He won the National Book Critics Circle Award in 1979. The Archives and Special Collections at Amherst College holds his papers.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 137 reviews
October 24, 2017
More History than Novel
I was born in Ireland, of an Irish mother and an English father, but this book has taught me more about my country and the tangled relations between my peoples than I ever knew before. By tracing the events that took place in a single year (1798) in a remote part of the country (County Mayo on the West coast), Thomas Flanagan pulls together threads stretching back many centuries, embracing all classes of Irish society, threads still tangled in the fighting in Northern Ireland in 1979 when the book was published, almost two centuries later.
The Year of the French commemorates the landing of a small expeditionary force sent out by revolutionary France to foment further revolution in Ireland against their arch-enemies, the English. The fleet, three vessels carrying a mere thousand men, had not been intended for such a remote spot, but the ships were forced into harbor by contrary winds. Under the command of the extraordinary General Humbert, however, the soliders achieved some striking early successes, rallying a substantial number of the populace to their side. But the promised reinforcements from France do not arrive, and it is only a matter of time before the British can regroup and bring their greater strength to bear. As history knows, the Great Irish Rebellion of 1798 was doomed to failure. But Flanagan also shows how the brutal British reprisals further sowed the seeds of rancor that would blossom in successful revolution over a century later.
It would be easy to see the discord in Ireland, then as in the quite recent past, as being a struggle between English and Irish, landowner and peasant, Protestant and Catholic, rich and poor. But what Flanagan so successfully demonstrates is that while all these things contributed, the strife was not at all so clearly defined by the obvious fault lines. The French arrival triggered the rising of two quite different groups, temporarily joined in the common cause. One was the Whiteboys, local groups of agrarian terrorists, peasants seeking revenge on exploitative landowners by such means as cattle-maiming and crop-burning. The other, the United Irishmen, included a number of these landowners themselves, ranging from members of great families down to small squireens; motivated by a vision of political independence rather than social revolution, they included not only men of Irish stock but also some Englishmen who had lived in Ireland for so long that they called it home. Even the division between Catholic and Protestant, though a better indicator than most, was no sure predictor of which way an individual's allegiance would fall.
As a book of history, The Year of the French is superb; I wish I could be as enthusiastic about its qualities as a novel. This is a long book and quite difficult to get through, especially in its first 150 pages. Not that Flanagan's writing isn't first-rate; he has an interesting technique of interspersing regular narrative with excerpts from diaries and memoirs supposedly written by various observers of the events, and his feeling for the style of each writer is spot-on. But it is a dense and complex texture that tends to overshadow the ordinary human emotions in the story. There are historical novels that you read for the facts and others (costume dramas, as it were) that you read for the people. Tolstoy's War and Peace, the greatest of all, manages an almost perfect balance between the two. It seems clear that Flanagan was aiming for a similar synthesis; he is perfect on the big political picture, and he fills his story with numerous characters—passionate, rascally, or self-deluding—that should have provided human interest aplenty. But despite several likeable figures and memorable scenes, I found myself almost always reading for the story and caring much less what became of the people. This would be little problem in a history, but for a novel it is crucial. Hence the absence of the fifth star.
I was born in Ireland, of an Irish mother and an English father, but this book has taught me more about my country and the tangled relations between my peoples than I ever knew before. By tracing the events that took place in a single year (1798) in a remote part of the country (County Mayo on the West coast), Thomas Flanagan pulls together threads stretching back many centuries, embracing all classes of Irish society, threads still tangled in the fighting in Northern Ireland in 1979 when the book was published, almost two centuries later.
The Year of the French commemorates the landing of a small expeditionary force sent out by revolutionary France to foment further revolution in Ireland against their arch-enemies, the English. The fleet, three vessels carrying a mere thousand men, had not been intended for such a remote spot, but the ships were forced into harbor by contrary winds. Under the command of the extraordinary General Humbert, however, the soliders achieved some striking early successes, rallying a substantial number of the populace to their side. But the promised reinforcements from France do not arrive, and it is only a matter of time before the British can regroup and bring their greater strength to bear. As history knows, the Great Irish Rebellion of 1798 was doomed to failure. But Flanagan also shows how the brutal British reprisals further sowed the seeds of rancor that would blossom in successful revolution over a century later.
It would be easy to see the discord in Ireland, then as in the quite recent past, as being a struggle between English and Irish, landowner and peasant, Protestant and Catholic, rich and poor. But what Flanagan so successfully demonstrates is that while all these things contributed, the strife was not at all so clearly defined by the obvious fault lines. The French arrival triggered the rising of two quite different groups, temporarily joined in the common cause. One was the Whiteboys, local groups of agrarian terrorists, peasants seeking revenge on exploitative landowners by such means as cattle-maiming and crop-burning. The other, the United Irishmen, included a number of these landowners themselves, ranging from members of great families down to small squireens; motivated by a vision of political independence rather than social revolution, they included not only men of Irish stock but also some Englishmen who had lived in Ireland for so long that they called it home. Even the division between Catholic and Protestant, though a better indicator than most, was no sure predictor of which way an individual's allegiance would fall.
As a book of history, The Year of the French is superb; I wish I could be as enthusiastic about its qualities as a novel. This is a long book and quite difficult to get through, especially in its first 150 pages. Not that Flanagan's writing isn't first-rate; he has an interesting technique of interspersing regular narrative with excerpts from diaries and memoirs supposedly written by various observers of the events, and his feeling for the style of each writer is spot-on. But it is a dense and complex texture that tends to overshadow the ordinary human emotions in the story. There are historical novels that you read for the facts and others (costume dramas, as it were) that you read for the people. Tolstoy's War and Peace, the greatest of all, manages an almost perfect balance between the two. It seems clear that Flanagan was aiming for a similar synthesis; he is perfect on the big political picture, and he fills his story with numerous characters—passionate, rascally, or self-deluding—that should have provided human interest aplenty. But despite several likeable figures and memorable scenes, I found myself almost always reading for the story and caring much less what became of the people. This would be little problem in a history, but for a novel it is crucial. Hence the absence of the fifth star.
October 31, 2014
Talk about a book freighted with weird and erroneous expectations. I was nine when it was published, twelve when the momentous occasion of the Irish-made (or half-Irish-made) production locked the nation to their screens every Sunday night. It was a big deal. The book was ubiquitous. It seemed to be in every library, bookshop, house, waiting room and - seeing as my Dad was a mechanic - left under the back window of half the cars in Ireland. All I knew was that I wanted nothing to do with it. Irish history is REALLY DEPRESSING. Also bloody. No matter what happens everyone dies in the end. And not peacefully in their beds surrounded by loved ones. They're hanged. Shot. Bayoneted. Blown apart by cannon balls. Ridden down by big cavalryman waving terrifying sabres. There's also the odd burning at the stake, being flayed with whips and, big favourite, being drawn and quartered to go with the hanging. And that's to say nothing of the wretched thousands in a constant state of starvation just filling in the background.
The same, it seemed to me, was also true of most Irish literature, whether it be books, poems or plays. Anytime I watch The Importance Of Being Earnest I almost expect it to end with the cast dangling wittily from a highly fashionable yet slightly disreputable gallows. Is it any bloody wonder I preferred the cosier, warmer, gentler escapes of Stephen King and Clive flippin' Barker? Irish history made The Books Of Blood look like See Spot Run.
I also knew, because I was taught history in an Irish school, that we have a way of valorising our struggles, complaining about our oppression, sentimentalising all the death and torture, ennobling the suffering of the peasants, and bitterly blaming it all on the Brits. It seemed only safe to assume that Thomas Flanagan did the same. At best it would be a torrid pot-boiler, at worst it would be a trudging rehearsal of every grievance and injustice inflicted on the long-suffering Gaels, a tragic failure of yet another struggle for freedom.
So, yes, I avoided the book and the series.
Given this attitude, I have no idea why I actually picked the damn thing up and read it. I simply saw a copy and made the decision. It seemed removed enough from my school days and Sunday nights in 1982 running through the living room and stealing glances at the television, terrified lest I see a hanging or a keening widda or a barefoot orphan being bullied by a landlord. The time had finally come to see what all the fuss was about.
If there is a better literary historical novel dealing with the subject of Ireland then I desperately want to read it. Heck, if there are any out there only half as good I want to know about them. This is an astonishing, sweeping, vivid, impassioned portrait of a deeply dysfunctional world thrown into an ugly state of chaos and violence that is as pointless and fruitless as it is sudden and appalling. Written with incredible skill, mimicking the disparate Irish and English voices faultlessly, invoking both the beauty and grim drudgery of the landscape, examining the lives lived on all levels of society and justifying them to the reader without ever trying to apologise or to avoid implicating them for their actions, this is a panoramic novel of intellectual weight and cumulative emotional power. It tackles the ugly sectarian, social, political, economic and cultural divisions that renders conflict and hatred inevitable. The various sections of Irish society are utterly alien to each other and there is no bridging the gaps save through small simple acts of humanity that are dwarfed by the sheer weight of history.
Flanagan deftly creates a series of fully realised characters to serve as witnesses to the tragic events. A poet, a parson, a United Irishman, a Catholic landowner. George Moore, the latter, is one of the few not carried away by the forces unleashed when the French land. His brother, however, is swept along by the tide, and not even his cold aloofness can protect him from the consequences.
As expected, it all ends very very badly for an awful lot of people. Flanagan absolves nobody for their actions, but neither does he withhold judgment from the conditions that make them almost inevitable. The two great powers, Britain and France, regard Ireland as little more than a distraction and the bulk of Irish people as little more than savages ruled by a corrupt, incompetent, self-serving gentry. It's a horrible mess, but a mess it must remain for reasons economic, social, religious and, thanks to the charming theories of Rev Malthus, ideological. It's almost unbearable, and this is only ONE incident, relatively insignificant, in centuries of bloody history. Is it any wonder we hate to think about it? Is it any wonder that those who do think about it are driven nearly half-mad by it?
Strumpet City is getting a lot of attention at the moment, and I hope to read it myself in the next few weeks. For now, though, I think I'll set aside this brilliant, shining, monumental work and pick up something less appallingly upsetting. Something with the end of the world and zombies. That should cheer me up and restore my faith in humanity a little.
The same, it seemed to me, was also true of most Irish literature, whether it be books, poems or plays. Anytime I watch The Importance Of Being Earnest I almost expect it to end with the cast dangling wittily from a highly fashionable yet slightly disreputable gallows. Is it any bloody wonder I preferred the cosier, warmer, gentler escapes of Stephen King and Clive flippin' Barker? Irish history made The Books Of Blood look like See Spot Run.
I also knew, because I was taught history in an Irish school, that we have a way of valorising our struggles, complaining about our oppression, sentimentalising all the death and torture, ennobling the suffering of the peasants, and bitterly blaming it all on the Brits. It seemed only safe to assume that Thomas Flanagan did the same. At best it would be a torrid pot-boiler, at worst it would be a trudging rehearsal of every grievance and injustice inflicted on the long-suffering Gaels, a tragic failure of yet another struggle for freedom.
So, yes, I avoided the book and the series.
Given this attitude, I have no idea why I actually picked the damn thing up and read it. I simply saw a copy and made the decision. It seemed removed enough from my school days and Sunday nights in 1982 running through the living room and stealing glances at the television, terrified lest I see a hanging or a keening widda or a barefoot orphan being bullied by a landlord. The time had finally come to see what all the fuss was about.
If there is a better literary historical novel dealing with the subject of Ireland then I desperately want to read it. Heck, if there are any out there only half as good I want to know about them. This is an astonishing, sweeping, vivid, impassioned portrait of a deeply dysfunctional world thrown into an ugly state of chaos and violence that is as pointless and fruitless as it is sudden and appalling. Written with incredible skill, mimicking the disparate Irish and English voices faultlessly, invoking both the beauty and grim drudgery of the landscape, examining the lives lived on all levels of society and justifying them to the reader without ever trying to apologise or to avoid implicating them for their actions, this is a panoramic novel of intellectual weight and cumulative emotional power. It tackles the ugly sectarian, social, political, economic and cultural divisions that renders conflict and hatred inevitable. The various sections of Irish society are utterly alien to each other and there is no bridging the gaps save through small simple acts of humanity that are dwarfed by the sheer weight of history.
Flanagan deftly creates a series of fully realised characters to serve as witnesses to the tragic events. A poet, a parson, a United Irishman, a Catholic landowner. George Moore, the latter, is one of the few not carried away by the forces unleashed when the French land. His brother, however, is swept along by the tide, and not even his cold aloofness can protect him from the consequences.
As expected, it all ends very very badly for an awful lot of people. Flanagan absolves nobody for their actions, but neither does he withhold judgment from the conditions that make them almost inevitable. The two great powers, Britain and France, regard Ireland as little more than a distraction and the bulk of Irish people as little more than savages ruled by a corrupt, incompetent, self-serving gentry. It's a horrible mess, but a mess it must remain for reasons economic, social, religious and, thanks to the charming theories of Rev Malthus, ideological. It's almost unbearable, and this is only ONE incident, relatively insignificant, in centuries of bloody history. Is it any wonder we hate to think about it? Is it any wonder that those who do think about it are driven nearly half-mad by it?
Strumpet City is getting a lot of attention at the moment, and I hope to read it myself in the next few weeks. For now, though, I think I'll set aside this brilliant, shining, monumental work and pick up something less appallingly upsetting. Something with the end of the world and zombies. That should cheer me up and restore my faith in humanity a little.
September 2, 2025
The Year of the French is the first in an Irish History Trilogy by Thomas Flanagan, a true labor of love in this sweeping historical novel illuminating the time in 1798 when Irish patriots, committed to freeing their country from England, landed with a company of French troops in County Mayo, in westernmost Ireland. Initially, they triumphed in raising hope among the impoverished local peasants but before long the insurgency collapsed in the face of brutal English counterattack.
Thomas Flanagan’s sweeping and epic novel demonstrates the sudden and terrible impact of historical events as it brings to life the Protestants and Catholics, or the papists, peasants and landlords and gentry, along with all the attendant questions of secular and religious commitments, occupation, and rebellion.
This is a thick and rich novel about poetry and revolution in Ireland in 1798, a year where the history was so involved and dense that we have five narrators speaking for the various factions and their point of view from narration, poetry, diaries and letters throughout the book. With the Irish Revolution in full swing with loyal Protestants in positions of power to abuse their tenants, the downtrodden Papists. There are the Whiteboys, a growing gang of night strikers from the poorest of the poor and their spokesman, Owen MacCarthy, Killala’s hard-working and hard-drinking schoolmaster and poet writes an eloquent paper to the British military commander about the uprising and Revolution. The Year of the French details the infinite layering of motives for and against the bloody uprising. The variety of the characters and the points of view weaves a rich tapestry among the rhythms of poetry. This book was truly a commitment but although I found it very dense in the beginning, once I became familiar with the myriad of characters and the flow of the different narrators, I couldn’t put it down. In fact, I will definitely read the next two books.
Thomas Flanagan’s sweeping and epic novel demonstrates the sudden and terrible impact of historical events as it brings to life the Protestants and Catholics, or the papists, peasants and landlords and gentry, along with all the attendant questions of secular and religious commitments, occupation, and rebellion.
“. . .it is one of the most notorious facts of Irish life that those who own the land and those who till it are severely divided by sect, the landlords being Protestant almost to a man, and the tenants and labourers being Papists.”
“For beyond dispute there are here two worlds, ‘our’ small Protestant world of property and their multitudinous Papist world of want.”
“We possess ideas, but we are possessed by feelings. They lie too deep for understanding, astir with their own secret life and carrying us with them.”
This is a thick and rich novel about poetry and revolution in Ireland in 1798, a year where the history was so involved and dense that we have five narrators speaking for the various factions and their point of view from narration, poetry, diaries and letters throughout the book. With the Irish Revolution in full swing with loyal Protestants in positions of power to abuse their tenants, the downtrodden Papists. There are the Whiteboys, a growing gang of night strikers from the poorest of the poor and their spokesman, Owen MacCarthy, Killala’s hard-working and hard-drinking schoolmaster and poet writes an eloquent paper to the British military commander about the uprising and Revolution. The Year of the French details the infinite layering of motives for and against the bloody uprising. The variety of the characters and the points of view weaves a rich tapestry among the rhythms of poetry. This book was truly a commitment but although I found it very dense in the beginning, once I became familiar with the myriad of characters and the flow of the different narrators, I couldn’t put it down. In fact, I will definitely read the next two books.
“Young hero of a poem, claiming the conquered city. MacCarthy, hugging his elbows, leaned a shoulder against cool brown stone. The substance of poetry, young heroes and triumphant generals. Perhaps such moments had always had the look of this one, layered grains of sunlight and actuality running across passion, across myth.”
“It was all poetry, I think to myself. It was all a dream.”
April 8, 2008
I don't expect to review or rate too many books, but here's one I just had to, mostly because I'm going to start Flannagan's final book on Ireland soon. This one, which I read years ago, is one of the most underrated I can think of. Sad, beautiful, frightening... once I let the adjectives get going, they won't stop.
Literature, history and poetry working seamlessly together, it's a truly rewarding read, though not always an easy one. Not only does TF have an utterly convincing grasp of the mood, speech and politics of the time, but what is especially refreshing is that he acts as if the reader does as well (though of course we don't). The result is a sense that you and the author are both living through these times, he recounting to you events as he has just seen them. This one broke the mold.
Literature, history and poetry working seamlessly together, it's a truly rewarding read, though not always an easy one. Not only does TF have an utterly convincing grasp of the mood, speech and politics of the time, but what is especially refreshing is that he acts as if the reader does as well (though of course we don't). The result is a sense that you and the author are both living through these times, he recounting to you events as he has just seen them. This one broke the mold.
October 30, 2023
I was torn in final assessment of Thomas Flanagan’s novel The Year of the French. It is a fine combination of scholarship and entertainment. It represents history and fiction intricately interwoven – a superb example of a good historical novel. It is also, however, too long and at times so slow as to border on tedium. A sharp editor’s pencil could have culled fifty pages and improved the tale. A good novel must maintain narrative impetus; Flanagan loses it in the run up to the Battle of Ballinamuck and only recaptures it in the last one hundred pages. The book boasts sixty-six characters, some fictional and others based on historical figures (there is a three page list at novel’s end). Not all these characters contribute much toward advancement of the storyline. Nonetheless, The Year of the French is informative, while being entertaining. It stands just over my threshold between three and four stars.
October 18, 2012
review is from: The Year of the French (Paperback)
This is one of the finest books I have ever read. The language and the writing are so wonderful that you just have to savor it. It took me a long time to read this as I couldn't read in a rapid manner. It was like a wonderful, warm, inviting bed that you just want to get in and roll around and enjoy it.
I knew nothing about this time period and event in Ireland. It was the book club choice for my Goodreads Irish book club and I am so glad I found it. Not only is the writing top notch but you would think all the events were made up unless you knew your history. Desperate for their independence, several Irishmen enlist help from the French to invade Ireland and rid themselves of the hated English.
The story is told by different narrators with varied point of views. You have one of the rebelling Irish, a landed gentry, a priest and others who tell their side of the story. It makes you feel like you get a well rounded perspective. It is really a horrific story of what was done to the Irish. Many were forced from their homes and forced to live in caves. People were punished for things on the whim of those in charge. A case is made for the Irish being slaves of the English. It makes you ill to think of what human beings do to each other.
I don't know if this book won any awards but it should have. It has some of the finest writing I have ever read. It's a remarkable story about a little known bit of history. You can't do better.
This is one of the finest books I have ever read. The language and the writing are so wonderful that you just have to savor it. It took me a long time to read this as I couldn't read in a rapid manner. It was like a wonderful, warm, inviting bed that you just want to get in and roll around and enjoy it.
I knew nothing about this time period and event in Ireland. It was the book club choice for my Goodreads Irish book club and I am so glad I found it. Not only is the writing top notch but you would think all the events were made up unless you knew your history. Desperate for their independence, several Irishmen enlist help from the French to invade Ireland and rid themselves of the hated English.
The story is told by different narrators with varied point of views. You have one of the rebelling Irish, a landed gentry, a priest and others who tell their side of the story. It makes you feel like you get a well rounded perspective. It is really a horrific story of what was done to the Irish. Many were forced from their homes and forced to live in caves. People were punished for things on the whim of those in charge. A case is made for the Irish being slaves of the English. It makes you ill to think of what human beings do to each other.
I don't know if this book won any awards but it should have. It has some of the finest writing I have ever read. It's a remarkable story about a little known bit of history. You can't do better.
December 9, 2016
I actually gave up on this book half way through. It is just too slow for me, it reads more like a non-fiction history book than a novel. Plus I have 14 books needing to be picked up at the library, so have to read those.
October 14, 2022
An interesting, sad, violent, overly long, but very good historical fiction novel about the Irish rebellion that took place in August / September 1798, on the West coast of Ireland, which began with the landing of 1,000 French soldiers, there to lend a collective hand in aiding the Irish patriots. The Irish patriots were committed to freeing their country from England. The French troops were supposed to be an advanced guard to be followed by more French troops led by Wolfe Tone. The Irish patriots comprised mostly of Catholic and Protestant working class laborers. There were some yeomen and land owners involved.
The book provides a view of the perspectives of a variety of characters. Owen Murphy, a teacher, poet, womaniser and drunk who sided with the rebels. George Moore, a Catholic landowner who did not partake in the events. His brother, John Moore, who was given a title as a leader of the Irish patriots. Other characters include a Catholic priest, a Protestant clergyman, Malcolm Elliott, a solicitor and Society of United Irishmen member.
Readers interested in Irish history should find this book very informative.
I gained a greater appreciation of the background to the problems that beset Ireland in the twentieth century.
This book was first published in 1979. Winner of the 1979 National Book Circle Critics Award.
The book provides a view of the perspectives of a variety of characters. Owen Murphy, a teacher, poet, womaniser and drunk who sided with the rebels. George Moore, a Catholic landowner who did not partake in the events. His brother, John Moore, who was given a title as a leader of the Irish patriots. Other characters include a Catholic priest, a Protestant clergyman, Malcolm Elliott, a solicitor and Society of United Irishmen member.
Readers interested in Irish history should find this book very informative.
I gained a greater appreciation of the background to the problems that beset Ireland in the twentieth century.
This book was first published in 1979. Winner of the 1979 National Book Circle Critics Award.
July 15, 2022
1798: not 20 years after the American Revolution and fewer than 10 years after the French Revolution. Though the Catholic population had finally gotten the right own property, the Irish had had enough of the cruelty of English landlords. ...thirty years ago, when I was a young man. It was tithes and high rents then, and it is grazing now. But there was a black, sullen hatred behind it; they did not know what they wanted but they knew what they hated.
A few years earlier, Wolfe Tone and others went to France to get military help so that the Irish could free themselves from the English. 1798, The Year of the French, he was finally successful. The French General Herbert was dismayed, to put it nicely, at the poor Irish who would join him. “I once wondered why the English had such contempt for the Irish. Now I understand.” He jerked his head towards the men invisible on the slopes below us. “You wanted to make a revolution with those. You are a fool.” He turned then and walked away from me.
Author Thomas Flanagan puts names to faces for some of these who were willing to risk their lives to gain a country (and some of the Protestants who did not). Included also were the names of the English generals who would be called upon to defend what they considered their country. Though the characterizations are not what I would usually demand in fiction, I became attached to the cause and the Irish generally perhaps more than the individuals.
I was a bit surprised to see the name General Cornwallis - I wondered if his assignment to Ireland was a punishment for having needed to surrender at Yorktown in America. Flanagan attributes this comment to Cornwallis, which is certainly illustrative of the ego a General must have: ... discoursing upon his campaigning days in America twenty years before, and most interestingly upon the subject of Washington, whom he regarded as a most overrated commander, although a man of estimable personal qualities.
I have enjoyed creative nonfiction - mostly history written in the writing style of fiction. This is fiction written more in the style of history. I freely admit this doesn't work as well for me. I almost set it aside at least twice but something stubborn reared up in me and I kept at it. I am a slow reader, but no book just over 500 pages should take me nearly 2 weeks to read!
I was right to keep after it in my usual several hours a day routine. I was amply rewarded for having done so. Any book that engenders strong emotion is worth every minute. I was angry about the plight of the Irish and saddened when they faced the gibbet after their loss. What I thought would be at most 2 stars turned into a strong 4 stars. If I consider only the last 150 pages, perhaps 5 stars, but there are those first 150 pages that keep me from that last star.
A few years earlier, Wolfe Tone and others went to France to get military help so that the Irish could free themselves from the English. 1798, The Year of the French, he was finally successful. The French General Herbert was dismayed, to put it nicely, at the poor Irish who would join him. “I once wondered why the English had such contempt for the Irish. Now I understand.” He jerked his head towards the men invisible on the slopes below us. “You wanted to make a revolution with those. You are a fool.” He turned then and walked away from me.
Author Thomas Flanagan puts names to faces for some of these who were willing to risk their lives to gain a country (and some of the Protestants who did not). Included also were the names of the English generals who would be called upon to defend what they considered their country. Though the characterizations are not what I would usually demand in fiction, I became attached to the cause and the Irish generally perhaps more than the individuals.
I was a bit surprised to see the name General Cornwallis - I wondered if his assignment to Ireland was a punishment for having needed to surrender at Yorktown in America. Flanagan attributes this comment to Cornwallis, which is certainly illustrative of the ego a General must have: ... discoursing upon his campaigning days in America twenty years before, and most interestingly upon the subject of Washington, whom he regarded as a most overrated commander, although a man of estimable personal qualities.
I have enjoyed creative nonfiction - mostly history written in the writing style of fiction. This is fiction written more in the style of history. I freely admit this doesn't work as well for me. I almost set it aside at least twice but something stubborn reared up in me and I kept at it. I am a slow reader, but no book just over 500 pages should take me nearly 2 weeks to read!
I was right to keep after it in my usual several hours a day routine. I was amply rewarded for having done so. Any book that engenders strong emotion is worth every minute. I was angry about the plight of the Irish and saddened when they faced the gibbet after their loss. What I thought would be at most 2 stars turned into a strong 4 stars. If I consider only the last 150 pages, perhaps 5 stars, but there are those first 150 pages that keep me from that last star.
September 10, 2014
An immersive novel, Thomas Flanagan’s historical novel takes readers right into the muck and bogs of 18th century Ireland, it’s prejudices and injustices, it’s poetry and cruelty. It’s pretty great.
For years, Flanagan was a professor of Irish fiction, specializing in 19th century Irish novelists, writers who were basically blotted out by James Joyce’s explosive fiction. An American, Flanagan spent a lot of time there and befriended several writers (including Seamus Deane, who contributes a short introduction to the NYRB edition of this book). He knew the country.
It comes through in his book: the rhythm of the dialogue, the gloomy ambience and snatches of lyricism are embedded in his book. It has a dense feeling, like a layered work of history. And it’s based on actual events, albeit ones generally overshadowed by the Napoleonic wars and the later bloody struggles in Ireland.
In 1798, after years of prodding by Irish nationals, a small band of French soldiers landed in Ireland, hoping to stir up local rebellions and take Dublin. A short time before, sections of the island had rebelled against the English, although they were wiped out by the time the French landed. After several skirmishes, the small French force was defeated; a few years later, Ireland was incorporated into England and during another bloody struggle, some 30,000 Irish died.
Flanagan’s novel takes these remote events and brings them to life. He mixes his action from narration to letters, diary entries and excerpts from histories written by his characters. Large sections are told via local priest Arthur Broome’s memoirs, written some years after the events, but others come from the diary of Sean MacKenna, a schoolmaster. Letters, other memoirs and diaries complete the multi-angled portrait.
When Flanagan bounces between characters and points of view, I’m reminded of Rashomon’s multiple angles of the same simple story. Several characters are English and look down on the Irish, often in a patricidal, coolly dismissive attitude that mixes loathing with a vague sense of problem solving:
“I know these people,’ Edgeworth said. “They are not governed by reason. All the laws and pamphlets ever written mean less to them than a poem. I have written against the dangers of poetry in this country. It is their only academy… hatred breeding hatred. I have tried. No one listened to me. ” (pg 399)
Meanwhile, the Irish characters have a more complex sense of their well-being. Several join the United Irishmen and fight alongside the French, while others (like MacKenna) stay away the fighting. Many often express the same lines about how they can finally escape the oppressive English while others only want to live their lives in peace, hoping to escape eviction by their absentee landlords.
It’s a sad, almost pathetic story. The Irish are quickly caught up with a charismatic French general, Jean-Joesph Humbert, who leads them in a form of guerrilla warfare and marches them to oblivion in the small town of Ballinamuck, the place of the pig. The English, who often say how poorly they feel for these downtrodden people, stamp them down like animals, slicing them down in battle and burning down everything in their path. It's a sad, tragic story and one that continued up through the time Flanagan wrote this novel.
One of the more dense books I’ve read this year and something that sucked me into it’s world, The Year of the French is a great historical read. Flanagan captures the troubled spirit of these times: the conflicted villagers, the loyal British soldiers, even the mad landlord Tyrawley. Recommended, especially for people into British history.
For years, Flanagan was a professor of Irish fiction, specializing in 19th century Irish novelists, writers who were basically blotted out by James Joyce’s explosive fiction. An American, Flanagan spent a lot of time there and befriended several writers (including Seamus Deane, who contributes a short introduction to the NYRB edition of this book). He knew the country.
It comes through in his book: the rhythm of the dialogue, the gloomy ambience and snatches of lyricism are embedded in his book. It has a dense feeling, like a layered work of history. And it’s based on actual events, albeit ones generally overshadowed by the Napoleonic wars and the later bloody struggles in Ireland.
In 1798, after years of prodding by Irish nationals, a small band of French soldiers landed in Ireland, hoping to stir up local rebellions and take Dublin. A short time before, sections of the island had rebelled against the English, although they were wiped out by the time the French landed. After several skirmishes, the small French force was defeated; a few years later, Ireland was incorporated into England and during another bloody struggle, some 30,000 Irish died.
Flanagan’s novel takes these remote events and brings them to life. He mixes his action from narration to letters, diary entries and excerpts from histories written by his characters. Large sections are told via local priest Arthur Broome’s memoirs, written some years after the events, but others come from the diary of Sean MacKenna, a schoolmaster. Letters, other memoirs and diaries complete the multi-angled portrait.
When Flanagan bounces between characters and points of view, I’m reminded of Rashomon’s multiple angles of the same simple story. Several characters are English and look down on the Irish, often in a patricidal, coolly dismissive attitude that mixes loathing with a vague sense of problem solving:
“I know these people,’ Edgeworth said. “They are not governed by reason. All the laws and pamphlets ever written mean less to them than a poem. I have written against the dangers of poetry in this country. It is their only academy… hatred breeding hatred. I have tried. No one listened to me. ” (pg 399)
Meanwhile, the Irish characters have a more complex sense of their well-being. Several join the United Irishmen and fight alongside the French, while others (like MacKenna) stay away the fighting. Many often express the same lines about how they can finally escape the oppressive English while others only want to live their lives in peace, hoping to escape eviction by their absentee landlords.
It’s a sad, almost pathetic story. The Irish are quickly caught up with a charismatic French general, Jean-Joesph Humbert, who leads them in a form of guerrilla warfare and marches them to oblivion in the small town of Ballinamuck, the place of the pig. The English, who often say how poorly they feel for these downtrodden people, stamp them down like animals, slicing them down in battle and burning down everything in their path. It's a sad, tragic story and one that continued up through the time Flanagan wrote this novel.
One of the more dense books I’ve read this year and something that sucked me into it’s world, The Year of the French is a great historical read. Flanagan captures the troubled spirit of these times: the conflicted villagers, the loyal British soldiers, even the mad landlord Tyrawley. Recommended, especially for people into British history.
January 3, 2018
During the tumult of the French Revolutionary Wars - before the Great Man himself transformed them into the Napoleonic Wars - the haphazard French attempts to aid Irish rebels in their independence are usually relegated to a footnote. After all, we know how the story ends, and the classically British mix of luck, skill, and sheer ruthlessness which ended those efforts condemned the Irish to over a century more of brutal colonial rule. But in Flanagan's hands this doomed effort to spread the flame of the Revolution to 1798 Ireland takes on a epochal significance. The French generals, British commanders, Catholic peasants, Protestant landlords, and more who populate the novel struggle with their own pieces of the conflict while never seeing quite the whole thing; it's an absorbing study of how warfare works on the ground as well as an effective way to shoe how different a cause seems on each side of the argument. You see the contradictions of French atheists liberating Catholic Irish from Protestant English, as well as the difficulty in replicating the formula of the self-liberation of the French in a country without its institutions and with a very different sense of itself, all while knowing that no matter how important the Irish struggle for self-determination felt to them, that even to their French allies they were a sideshow and a means to a broader end. It begins slowly, but by the end you get that rare sense of visiting a real living world that only the best historical fiction delivers.
April 24, 2017
There is a traditional Irish ballad, 'The Wind That Shakes the Barley', that kept coming to mind as I read this. It tells the story of a young man who leaves his love to fight for the United Irishmen in 1798, alongside the French, against English rule, and about his fate. It is sad, and dark, and beautiful, and true (in that way that does not ask 'did this specifically happen in exactly this way', but rather, 'does this tell us how the world was, for someone, at some time').
It is a testament to how good this book is that, as I read it, I kept thinking about the song and how much the book had in common with it... it is also sad and dark and beautiful and true, and it tells so many stories that overlap with the song: the leaving of loved ones who wanted only to harvest, and to raise children; the ultimate folly of the enterprise; the way the barley was left behind them, growing over the places where there bodies lay, the world carrying on in many ways as if it never happened. All these the song offers up in the best way a song could, and the book shows in surely the best way a book could.
And more besides. We have members of society high and low on both sides and those unaligned, we have perspectives from those who feel the whole gamut of possible ways about the uprising, from self-serving to patriotic, to naive to hostile... we see how the events sweep across the lives of everyone in their path, out of the control of even the most central instigators, and we see how the dust settles, history rolling on. And we have many moments of drama, and many of reflection, and all written with two things shining through: a deep and passionate knowledge of the history, and a simple but beautiful turn of prose.
This is probably the best historical novel I've ever read. Better even than Bring Up the Bodies or A Place of Greater Safety. It is profoundly literary. But also simple. It gives us many perspectives. It never preaches. And it helps us to turn over in our mind what happened in the Year of the French, without giving us any easy answers, like history itself.
It is a testament to how good this book is that, as I read it, I kept thinking about the song and how much the book had in common with it... it is also sad and dark and beautiful and true, and it tells so many stories that overlap with the song: the leaving of loved ones who wanted only to harvest, and to raise children; the ultimate folly of the enterprise; the way the barley was left behind them, growing over the places where there bodies lay, the world carrying on in many ways as if it never happened. All these the song offers up in the best way a song could, and the book shows in surely the best way a book could.
And more besides. We have members of society high and low on both sides and those unaligned, we have perspectives from those who feel the whole gamut of possible ways about the uprising, from self-serving to patriotic, to naive to hostile... we see how the events sweep across the lives of everyone in their path, out of the control of even the most central instigators, and we see how the dust settles, history rolling on. And we have many moments of drama, and many of reflection, and all written with two things shining through: a deep and passionate knowledge of the history, and a simple but beautiful turn of prose.
This is probably the best historical novel I've ever read. Better even than Bring Up the Bodies or A Place of Greater Safety. It is profoundly literary. But also simple. It gives us many perspectives. It never preaches. And it helps us to turn over in our mind what happened in the Year of the French, without giving us any easy answers, like history itself.
March 22, 2012
Page 151:
"Are they the soldiers from the ships?" "Yes," MacCarthy said. "French soldiers, the French have landed."
The plot describes the French invasion of Ireland and the rebellion by the native Irish also know as The Races of Castlebar, County Mayo.
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The story itself is quite interesting even if an American-born writer wrote it.
However, it’s not an easy book to read since it has 5 different narrators and at least 60 characters.
A The Year of the French (1982) TV series was made based on this book.
"Are they the soldiers from the ships?" "Yes," MacCarthy said. "French soldiers, the French have landed."
The plot describes the French invasion of Ireland and the rebellion by the native Irish also know as The Races of Castlebar, County Mayo.
The story itself is quite interesting even if an American-born writer wrote it.
However, it’s not an easy book to read since it has 5 different narrators and at least 60 characters.
A The Year of the French (1982) TV series was made based on this book.
December 3, 2021
I’m torn, here, between the story and the book.
The story is about a fascinating, significant and under-studied effort by Irish patriots to oust the British in the wake (snd spirit) of the French Revolution. So naturally, one would expect France to make for a great ally in the fight. Better still, they didn’t really need France to go all in on liberty, equality and fraternity for Irish peasants — as long as France could envision the more direct goal of messing things up for its number-one antagonist, England. The French gave it a try, but “Protestant winds” prevented their ships from actually getting to dock in Ireland.
The events of this book involve a second attempt to enlist French assistance. It was a hard sell. There were memories of the Protestant Winds to overcome. And by now, Bonaparte, who was running the show, while still interested in hurting England, had bigger fish to fry; Egypt. Despite Bonaparte’s apathy, the French mounted an effort but because it was such a low-priority thing, the effort would have needed a lot more assistance and resources before it could have worked its way up to being called half-assed. The Year of the French focuses on this doomed-from-the-start intervention.
As with much history, the contemporary implications make for fascinating thought, debate, etc. For example, how much trouble do we have in the global arena right now because of U.S. efforts that were every bit as half-assed as what we see here from the French.
That’s the story.
The book . . . eh . . .
It’s a hard, hard slog based mainly on the memoirs and letters of key characters, and I use the word “key” loosely because there are many and it’s hard to keep track of who’s who. In my opinion, epistolary works are inherently troublesome and start with two strikes against them. Imagine you assign a research project to an assistant who comes back and dumps a bunch of documents on your desk (imagine this happened in the ancient 1900s, when documents were physical things that could actually be dumped on your desk). Are you likely to thank the assistant and offer a bonus. Or are you more likely to scream at the assistant something like “Get this #$&% crap out of here and give me your analysis. Don’t expect me to do your @#^& job!” That’s how I feel about epistolary works in general, and how I felt about the document dump Thomas Flanagan provides to readers. What’s worse, the documents themselves aren’t compelling. Often they recite what somebody else told the speaker. So we often get not just “tell” but multiple layers of “tell” rather than show.
The story is about a fascinating, significant and under-studied effort by Irish patriots to oust the British in the wake (snd spirit) of the French Revolution. So naturally, one would expect France to make for a great ally in the fight. Better still, they didn’t really need France to go all in on liberty, equality and fraternity for Irish peasants — as long as France could envision the more direct goal of messing things up for its number-one antagonist, England. The French gave it a try, but “Protestant winds” prevented their ships from actually getting to dock in Ireland.
The events of this book involve a second attempt to enlist French assistance. It was a hard sell. There were memories of the Protestant Winds to overcome. And by now, Bonaparte, who was running the show, while still interested in hurting England, had bigger fish to fry; Egypt. Despite Bonaparte’s apathy, the French mounted an effort but because it was such a low-priority thing, the effort would have needed a lot more assistance and resources before it could have worked its way up to being called half-assed. The Year of the French focuses on this doomed-from-the-start intervention.
As with much history, the contemporary implications make for fascinating thought, debate, etc. For example, how much trouble do we have in the global arena right now because of U.S. efforts that were every bit as half-assed as what we see here from the French.
That’s the story.
The book . . . eh . . .
It’s a hard, hard slog based mainly on the memoirs and letters of key characters, and I use the word “key” loosely because there are many and it’s hard to keep track of who’s who. In my opinion, epistolary works are inherently troublesome and start with two strikes against them. Imagine you assign a research project to an assistant who comes back and dumps a bunch of documents on your desk (imagine this happened in the ancient 1900s, when documents were physical things that could actually be dumped on your desk). Are you likely to thank the assistant and offer a bonus. Or are you more likely to scream at the assistant something like “Get this #$&% crap out of here and give me your analysis. Don’t expect me to do your @#^& job!” That’s how I feel about epistolary works in general, and how I felt about the document dump Thomas Flanagan provides to readers. What’s worse, the documents themselves aren’t compelling. Often they recite what somebody else told the speaker. So we often get not just “tell” but multiple layers of “tell” rather than show.
August 22, 2007
It was dense history. But it was a history for anyone who had ancestors from County Mayo.
Thanks to this book I understand why the my mother's hometown of Clinton MA has the Fighting Gaels, why the Acre is called the Acre, why the busiest street is high st and not main st.... Thanks to the book I have an understanding and a better appreciation of the names of landmarks in the town that our ancestors were using from the Old Country.
The importance of the poet and historian in Irish tradition. The English stripped people of their land and told them to hit road... Cronies took the land from people. Catholicism was outlawed. Gaelic was mostly spoken by the "Westerners." The English took over any higher places of learning, the churches, the press... The village poet and historian was the only source of the indigineous people's story. In some cases it was reverting back to oral tradition.
When the Freench landed questions came up: What would have happened if Napoleon lead armies into Ireland? Would they have gained independence sooner? Would the famine occurred at all? Think about it? Those hopes were almost a reality. That's what this book did for me...
The last chapter is foreboding about population and the Malthusian theory: a return to subsistence-level conditions as a result of agricultural (or, in later formulations, economic) production being eventually outstripped by growth in population[1]. It was published in 1798 (in England) after the revolt's defeat and when many English-Irish Lords were looking for a solution to the Irish question... They did nothing and let nature (and God) see to that forty years later.
Thanks to this book I understand why the my mother's hometown of Clinton MA has the Fighting Gaels, why the Acre is called the Acre, why the busiest street is high st and not main st.... Thanks to the book I have an understanding and a better appreciation of the names of landmarks in the town that our ancestors were using from the Old Country.
The importance of the poet and historian in Irish tradition. The English stripped people of their land and told them to hit road... Cronies took the land from people. Catholicism was outlawed. Gaelic was mostly spoken by the "Westerners." The English took over any higher places of learning, the churches, the press... The village poet and historian was the only source of the indigineous people's story. In some cases it was reverting back to oral tradition.
When the Freench landed questions came up: What would have happened if Napoleon lead armies into Ireland? Would they have gained independence sooner? Would the famine occurred at all? Think about it? Those hopes were almost a reality. That's what this book did for me...
The last chapter is foreboding about population and the Malthusian theory: a return to subsistence-level conditions as a result of agricultural (or, in later formulations, economic) production being eventually outstripped by growth in population[1]. It was published in 1798 (in England) after the revolt's defeat and when many English-Irish Lords were looking for a solution to the Irish question... They did nothing and let nature (and God) see to that forty years later.
December 10, 2018
‘He drew the sheet of blank paper toward him, and picked up one of the black quills.’
In 1798, there were a series of rebellions in Ireland as Irish patriots rose up against British rule. And, after the main uprisings had already been defeated, about 1,000 French soldiers under the leadership of General Humbert landed at Kilcummin in County Mayo. They were joined by about 5,000 locals. Initially, they had some success. They inflicted a humiliating defeat on the British at Castlebar (also known as the Castlebar races because of the speed of the retreat). They established an Irish Republic with John Moore and the president of Connaught, one of its provinces. This led to some supportive uprisings in Longford and Westmeath. But these uprisings were quickly defeated, as was the main force in the battle of Ballinamuck, in County Longford on 8 September 1798. The Irish Republic had lasted for just twelve days. The French troops who surrender were repatriated to France and exchanged for British prisoners of war. Hundreds of the captured Irish patriots were executed. This episode of the 1798 Rebellion was commonly known as Bliain na bhFrancach in Irish, and as The Year of the French in English.
In this novel, Mr Flanagan employs five narrators to bring this episode of Irish history to life. While this served to provide different perspectives of events, I found it distracting at times. My head appreciated the relative objectivity this enabled, but my heart was more interested in the experiences of the Irish patriots. This is a period of Irish history about which I knew little, and after reading this novel I am keen to learn more.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
In 1798, there were a series of rebellions in Ireland as Irish patriots rose up against British rule. And, after the main uprisings had already been defeated, about 1,000 French soldiers under the leadership of General Humbert landed at Kilcummin in County Mayo. They were joined by about 5,000 locals. Initially, they had some success. They inflicted a humiliating defeat on the British at Castlebar (also known as the Castlebar races because of the speed of the retreat). They established an Irish Republic with John Moore and the president of Connaught, one of its provinces. This led to some supportive uprisings in Longford and Westmeath. But these uprisings were quickly defeated, as was the main force in the battle of Ballinamuck, in County Longford on 8 September 1798. The Irish Republic had lasted for just twelve days. The French troops who surrender were repatriated to France and exchanged for British prisoners of war. Hundreds of the captured Irish patriots were executed. This episode of the 1798 Rebellion was commonly known as Bliain na bhFrancach in Irish, and as The Year of the French in English.
In this novel, Mr Flanagan employs five narrators to bring this episode of Irish history to life. While this served to provide different perspectives of events, I found it distracting at times. My head appreciated the relative objectivity this enabled, but my heart was more interested in the experiences of the Irish patriots. This is a period of Irish history about which I knew little, and after reading this novel I am keen to learn more.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
May 2, 2020
I do not ordinarily read historical fiction, largely because I suspect it invites the exercise of artistic license that exhausts the truth behind what real people once did and said, but my experiences with New York Review Books titles--almost all of them very favorable--persuaded me to set aside my bias in this instance. I'm so glad I did.
The Year of the French refers to 1798 and one of the many episodes in the centuries-long saga of English versus Irish/Protestant versus Catholic, otherwise known as the Troubles. In that year, Wolfe Tone and other members of the United Irishmen prevailed upon the French to send ships and soldiers to Ireland to assist in an uprising. To anyone who knows even a smattering of that history, I will not be revealing a spoiler by saying that things don't end well in this novel.
To add flavor and richness to this foregone conclusion, Thomas Flanagan enlivens the events by reporting them through several different narrators, some of whom were direct participants in the violence, some hapless victims, and others merely bystanders with varying degrees of innocence. The many carefully wrought voices reflect a wide range of perspectives, prejudices, educational levels, as well as emotional, political and economic stakes in the outcome. The author reveals a marvelous ability, enhanced by considerable research and powerful empathy, to fully inhabit each of the characters and in so doing commingle their thoughts and emotions with those of the reader. Also, Flanagan is quite simply a very fine writer, with a poetic sensitivity that soars through many passages. In that way, he brings a remarkable beauty to this tale of brutal violence.
The Year of the French refers to 1798 and one of the many episodes in the centuries-long saga of English versus Irish/Protestant versus Catholic, otherwise known as the Troubles. In that year, Wolfe Tone and other members of the United Irishmen prevailed upon the French to send ships and soldiers to Ireland to assist in an uprising. To anyone who knows even a smattering of that history, I will not be revealing a spoiler by saying that things don't end well in this novel.
To add flavor and richness to this foregone conclusion, Thomas Flanagan enlivens the events by reporting them through several different narrators, some of whom were direct participants in the violence, some hapless victims, and others merely bystanders with varying degrees of innocence. The many carefully wrought voices reflect a wide range of perspectives, prejudices, educational levels, as well as emotional, political and economic stakes in the outcome. The author reveals a marvelous ability, enhanced by considerable research and powerful empathy, to fully inhabit each of the characters and in so doing commingle their thoughts and emotions with those of the reader. Also, Flanagan is quite simply a very fine writer, with a poetic sensitivity that soars through many passages. In that way, he brings a remarkable beauty to this tale of brutal violence.
May 14, 2016
This was an amazing book and journey through a chapter of Irish history that is largely forgotten. The year of liberty 1798 usually concentrates on the Wexford rising leaving The People's Republic of Connaught, uprisings in the Midlands and Ulster as mere footnotes.
In The Year of the French Thomas Flanagan suceeds in giving a social snapshot of the time and shows the rebellion from many differing and opposing points of view. The book is brilliantly written and a great achievement considering that Flanagan was an American.
I visited Ballinamuck last years and stood at the scene of 'the last stand'. Like other battle sites you get that eerie sensation of the dramatic events that unfolded here the blood and guts of war. Even though over two hundred years have passed standing in what is now quite tranquil surroundings you get the feeling that those events will never leave.
In The Year of the French Thomas Flanagan suceeds in giving a social snapshot of the time and shows the rebellion from many differing and opposing points of view. The book is brilliantly written and a great achievement considering that Flanagan was an American.
I visited Ballinamuck last years and stood at the scene of 'the last stand'. Like other battle sites you get that eerie sensation of the dramatic events that unfolded here the blood and guts of war. Even though over two hundred years have passed standing in what is now quite tranquil surroundings you get the feeling that those events will never leave.
Read
August 1, 2018A polyphonic retelling of the failed Irish rebellion of 1798, which saw a small army of French revolutionaries and Irish militia put down with brutal severity by the English Crown. This is historical fiction in the Raj Quartet mold – no noble charges, no romantic retellings, only desperate men doing the best they can under terrible circumstances. Flanagan has some fine prose, and each of the many viewpoints – from Lord Cornwallis to a roaming poet/schoolteacher – feel honest and fully fleshed. It goes on for quite a while, but then, it is historical fiction, that’s kinda to be expected.
June 6, 2012
A sad, haunting tale--- an account of the Irish rising of 1798 and the French landing in support of the rebellion. Flanagan calls up the shock and horror of the doomed rebellion and the savage punishment inflicted by the English as well as the bitter political in-fighting among the Irish and the growing knowledge that the French have their own designs on Ireland and care nothing for Irish independence. Well-written and powerful.
January 28, 2021
This book took me forever to read. It took that long because every insight of character deserved mulling and poking, and because I have grown unused to historical details, certainly not battles and their planning, choreography. Rich language and humor and pathos to beat the band. Hated returning it to the library because i have a short list of folks I would love to lend it to , myself, and would like to have one on hand to offer forevermore.
January 6, 2016
wow.
Certainly one of the best historical fictions I've ever read.
well worth the effort.
Certainly one of the best historical fictions I've ever read.
well worth the effort.
June 19, 2020
A+ historical fiction
April 23, 2021
Even though Im not Irish, Ive always sort of had an affinity for Irish History. However that history was mostly between 1916 through the Troubles. I knew nothing of this story before picking up this book and really wish I would have read it before visiting Ireland about 4 years ago. Even this book is Historical Fiction it appears to be well researched and offers a good perspective into the 1798 rebellion in the County Mayo where a small French force fought alongside the United Irishmen against Great Britain.
Thomas Flanagan tells this story through multiple narrators. An Irish poet, a protestant minister, landowners, Irish "officers", and an adjunct to Lord Cornwallis (there are also others). I think Flanagen does a great job of showing the different motivations and moving parts in the rebellion. How the Irish peasant would be fighting under the command of an Irish landowner to throw out the English, but each group has a different understanding as to what the outcome of "independence" would be. Additionally, I could never really grasp who the "English-in-Ireland" were and how they came about as a social class until reading this book.
Not only is the story great but the different narrators keep the book fresh and engaging, since each voice and perspective is distinct. I especially enjoyed the parts narrated by Owen McCarthy who is a womanizing Irish poet and schoolteacher who never turns down a drink. His story was the one I may have been most invested in and also "his" lyrical way of describing the setting and events was great writing.
Example
"The French general had left behind him in Crossmolina all his artillery except the light curricle guns, and peasants had been yoked to these like beasts of burden. Shoulders bent, they had stumbled and staggered in the darkness, with the French sergeants bellowing at them incomprehensible oaths. What else had there ever been but men who looked like these, like himself, straggling across bogs, or through forests, with mists writhing about their legs? Our poetry, the celebrations of defeats, chieftains cut down in battle, lonely stands by fords and mountain passes, retreats. There would be no song for those who sat exhausted, chests heaving, after doing work that horses and donkeys had refused."
This book is the first one in Flanagan's trilogy and I already put the next two books on my "to-read list."
Bonus: I really enjoyed this quote because it connects with one of my favorite books of all time: Carlo Levi's memoir Christ Stopped at Eboli.
"And we could do worse than Duggan, and perhaps we will before this song is sung. Have you never taken a look at those wild creatures from Belmullet, who are no better than pagans? ‘Christ never died for Belmullet,’ is a saying they have in Erris"
In both books the peasants of 1930 Italy and 1790s Ireland are Catholic, however much of their culture and tradition pre-date Christianity.
Thomas Flanagan tells this story through multiple narrators. An Irish poet, a protestant minister, landowners, Irish "officers", and an adjunct to Lord Cornwallis (there are also others). I think Flanagen does a great job of showing the different motivations and moving parts in the rebellion. How the Irish peasant would be fighting under the command of an Irish landowner to throw out the English, but each group has a different understanding as to what the outcome of "independence" would be. Additionally, I could never really grasp who the "English-in-Ireland" were and how they came about as a social class until reading this book.
Not only is the story great but the different narrators keep the book fresh and engaging, since each voice and perspective is distinct. I especially enjoyed the parts narrated by Owen McCarthy who is a womanizing Irish poet and schoolteacher who never turns down a drink. His story was the one I may have been most invested in and also "his" lyrical way of describing the setting and events was great writing.
Example
"The French general had left behind him in Crossmolina all his artillery except the light curricle guns, and peasants had been yoked to these like beasts of burden. Shoulders bent, they had stumbled and staggered in the darkness, with the French sergeants bellowing at them incomprehensible oaths. What else had there ever been but men who looked like these, like himself, straggling across bogs, or through forests, with mists writhing about their legs? Our poetry, the celebrations of defeats, chieftains cut down in battle, lonely stands by fords and mountain passes, retreats. There would be no song for those who sat exhausted, chests heaving, after doing work that horses and donkeys had refused."
This book is the first one in Flanagan's trilogy and I already put the next two books on my "to-read list."
Bonus: I really enjoyed this quote because it connects with one of my favorite books of all time: Carlo Levi's memoir Christ Stopped at Eboli.
"And we could do worse than Duggan, and perhaps we will before this song is sung. Have you never taken a look at those wild creatures from Belmullet, who are no better than pagans? ‘Christ never died for Belmullet,’ is a saying they have in Erris"
In both books the peasants of 1930 Italy and 1790s Ireland are Catholic, however much of their culture and tradition pre-date Christianity.
March 9, 2025
7/10
Who can sort out and make sense of Ireland’s history? The author captures in this fictionalized account of one year in the long, tortured, tumultuous, sad story of Ireland’s woes—hopeful yet hopeless, English, Irish, French, rich, middle-class, poor, Protestant, Catholic, property owners, property managers, tenants, landless, priests, teachers, clerics, shopkeepers, crafters, soldiers—all set against each other and themselves. From another reviewer: “It tackles the ugly sectarian, social, political, economic and cultural divisions that renders conflict and hatred inevitable.”
On the plus side: obviously meticulously researched, descriptive writing rich with details, distinct and mostly authentic characters. It’s a thorough account of this particular rebellion and I learned a lot!
On the minus side: too detailed (really, how many times must the bogs and huts be described, often using the exact same words?), a touch too stereotypical (yes, I know the stereotypes are rooted in reality, but so few exceptions—the author sometimes paints the characters with too broad a brush). And while I know Irish history is depressing and the many rebellions over the centuries were doomed, it still makes for unrelentingly bleak reading, and the author did little to relieve the darkness.
Who can sort out and make sense of Ireland’s history? The author captures in this fictionalized account of one year in the long, tortured, tumultuous, sad story of Ireland’s woes—hopeful yet hopeless, English, Irish, French, rich, middle-class, poor, Protestant, Catholic, property owners, property managers, tenants, landless, priests, teachers, clerics, shopkeepers, crafters, soldiers—all set against each other and themselves. From another reviewer: “It tackles the ugly sectarian, social, political, economic and cultural divisions that renders conflict and hatred inevitable.”
On the plus side: obviously meticulously researched, descriptive writing rich with details, distinct and mostly authentic characters. It’s a thorough account of this particular rebellion and I learned a lot!
On the minus side: too detailed (really, how many times must the bogs and huts be described, often using the exact same words?), a touch too stereotypical (yes, I know the stereotypes are rooted in reality, but so few exceptions—the author sometimes paints the characters with too broad a brush). And while I know Irish history is depressing and the many rebellions over the centuries were doomed, it still makes for unrelentingly bleak reading, and the author did little to relieve the darkness.
June 18, 2019
Difficult to summarise my thoughts on such a long and involved book just after finishing it.
While it's fair to say it could definitely have done with losing 100-150 pages, which could have aided the narrative tension, this is still one of the few works of epic Irish historical fiction that doesn't indulge in romantic or arid visions of the complex Irish past.
At the same time, this is definitely a book that is marked in (sophisticated, not blunt) ways by the historiography of the time at which it was written, as well as the looming shadow of the northern Irish Troubles: the rebellion was - if not doomed from the start, in an echo of Burkean pessimism as to the perfectibility of human nature - certainly doomed from the point at which the Wexford and Ulster rebellions had been broken. The dominant literary and narrative motif is thus that of tragedy, and there is little to celebrate for romantics in Flanagan's vision of the rebellion, heavily influenced by that of the mainstream historians of the period prominent in the '60s & 7'0s (Guy Beiner suspects FSL Lyons as the main 'culprit'): the United Irishmen were deluded urbanites, the peasantry were alternately noble savages or actual savages, class divisions between the 'strong farmer' and cottier were fixed and clearly demarcated, the landlords were impoverished and mostly passive spectators to their own undermining, the Gaelic poets and language were the last elements of a by-gone Gaelic aristocratic era on their way out...
Whether or not this characterisation of the period is accurate - frankly, I'm purely ambivalent - it lends the entire narrative something of the 'condescension of posterity' that EP Thompson warned against: the lines connecting the past and future are at best romantic and nostalgic, not founded in communal memory or strategic calculation by following generations; it probably also overlooks the robustness of both the peasantry, landlords, and language - all of which clung doggedly on to the Famine, the true terminus for 'old Ireland' as invoked here. In a sense it shortcircuits a lot of the narrative tension that could exist. Moreover, a lot of more recent historiography - the 'counter-revisionists', the economic historians, the work of Vincent Docherty and the 18th century Ireland society, others who have sought to utilise fragments of the remaining Irish language documentation and sources - have given us slightly contradictory visions of this period of the Irish past.
It's misleading though to chastise a work of fiction for its historical in/accuracy though, and as a work of fiction this is still one of the few truly transcendent Irish historical novels.
While it's fair to say it could definitely have done with losing 100-150 pages, which could have aided the narrative tension, this is still one of the few works of epic Irish historical fiction that doesn't indulge in romantic or arid visions of the complex Irish past.
At the same time, this is definitely a book that is marked in (sophisticated, not blunt) ways by the historiography of the time at which it was written, as well as the looming shadow of the northern Irish Troubles: the rebellion was - if not doomed from the start, in an echo of Burkean pessimism as to the perfectibility of human nature - certainly doomed from the point at which the Wexford and Ulster rebellions had been broken. The dominant literary and narrative motif is thus that of tragedy, and there is little to celebrate for romantics in Flanagan's vision of the rebellion, heavily influenced by that of the mainstream historians of the period prominent in the '60s & 7'0s (Guy Beiner suspects FSL Lyons as the main 'culprit'): the United Irishmen were deluded urbanites, the peasantry were alternately noble savages or actual savages, class divisions between the 'strong farmer' and cottier were fixed and clearly demarcated, the landlords were impoverished and mostly passive spectators to their own undermining, the Gaelic poets and language were the last elements of a by-gone Gaelic aristocratic era on their way out...
Whether or not this characterisation of the period is accurate - frankly, I'm purely ambivalent - it lends the entire narrative something of the 'condescension of posterity' that EP Thompson warned against: the lines connecting the past and future are at best romantic and nostalgic, not founded in communal memory or strategic calculation by following generations; it probably also overlooks the robustness of both the peasantry, landlords, and language - all of which clung doggedly on to the Famine, the true terminus for 'old Ireland' as invoked here. In a sense it shortcircuits a lot of the narrative tension that could exist. Moreover, a lot of more recent historiography - the 'counter-revisionists', the economic historians, the work of Vincent Docherty and the 18th century Ireland society, others who have sought to utilise fragments of the remaining Irish language documentation and sources - have given us slightly contradictory visions of this period of the Irish past.
It's misleading though to chastise a work of fiction for its historical in/accuracy though, and as a work of fiction this is still one of the few truly transcendent Irish historical novels.
February 8, 2010
This is another of those "if you have an ounce of Irish blood in you" you have to read. It's about the very sad attempted rising in the 18th century. The name comes from the hope that France would come and assist the rebellion. I'm so glad I still have this book. It will be a great reread.
August 20, 2019
If you want to understand the currents and cross-currents of Irish history look no further than this book. However do not expect to hear a lot from various female voices in this book. As meticulous and interesting and detailed as Flanagan’s depictions of Irish politics were, this is very much a book of the late 1970s in which not a lot of attention or development is given to any characters outside of grown men. There’s one woman who cheats on her husband there’s another woman who pines for her fiancé and there’s another woman who was somewhat politically aware but still shocked that her her United Irishman husband will be lost to her but other than that there’s not a lot of political awareness in any of those women. This book has been on my to read list for years and I don’t regret investing my time and effort in it and neither should you if you want to understand the complexities of Irish history.
September 12, 2022
Moody but brilliant. That would describe both the novel's main character, and the narrative. I read this book fairly slowly, mostly because I wanted to fully appreciate Flanagan's turn of phrase. The complex culmination of the plot deserved to be savoured too. My undergraduate dissertation revolved around the way communal memory was captured and codified through the rebellion of 1798, and I don't think I have read a better representation of the layers and layers of communal ties and divides that simmered in 18th century Ireland. I especially appreciated the uncompromising picture of gulf between the revoluntionary axis of Frenchmen and United Irishmen to their Irish forces.
All that being said, the point-of-view switches and especially some of the time jumps could be confusing, with the inconsistent cast of narrators not helping the gaps in the direct storytelling. Some of Owen's decisions just didn't make that much sense, again not helped by externalising from his perspective at key moments. Flanagan also offers an enormously depressing view of the possibility of cross-community solidarity, though in fairness he was writing during the Troubles. That left me feeling this was a slightly jarring but largely compelling read shining a light in a murky, underexamined period of Irish history.
All that being said, the point-of-view switches and especially some of the time jumps could be confusing, with the inconsistent cast of narrators not helping the gaps in the direct storytelling. Some of Owen's decisions just didn't make that much sense, again not helped by externalising from his perspective at key moments. Flanagan also offers an enormously depressing view of the possibility of cross-community solidarity, though in fairness he was writing during the Troubles. That left me feeling this was a slightly jarring but largely compelling read shining a light in a murky, underexamined period of Irish history.
November 11, 2023
The Year off the French is a fascinating book, told largely through the eyes of the oppressed Catholic peasantry but still showing equitably the point of view of the Protestant ascendancy. This is achieved through having multiple ‘real’ narrators including Lord Cornwallis, the British general and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The book is very long but very insightful if you are interested in Irish history. A masterpiece, I think. My great-great grandmother, great-grandfather and grandfather lived just a few miles from where the French landed on Kilcummin strand so the book had a special resonance for me.
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