Woman Who Walked Into Doors

Paula Spencer #1

by Roddy Doyle

The heartrendering story of a woman struggling to reclaim her dignity after marriage to an abusive husband and a worsening drink problem. Paula Spencer now in her late thirties, recalls her contented childhood, the exhilaration of her romance with Charlo, and the marriage to him that left her feeling powerless. Capturing both her vulnerability and her strength, Doyle gives Paula a voice that is real and unforgettable.

Genres: Fiction, Ireland, Irish Literature, Contemporary, Literary Fiction, Novels, Book Club

226 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 1996

About the author

Roddy Doyle (Irish: Ruaidhrí Ó Dúill) is an Irish novelist, dramatist and screenwriter. Several of his books have been made into successful films, beginning with The Commitments in 1991. He won the Booker Prize in 1993.

Doyle grew up in Kilbarrack, Dublin. He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from University College, Dublin. He spent several years as an English and geography teacher before becoming a full-time writer in 1993.

Reviews

[sAmAnE · Rating 3 out of 5]

داستان کتاب در مورد پائولاست، زنی سی و نه ساله، بیوه و دارای چهار فرزند. همسرش توسط پلیس کشته شده چون قاتل یک زن پنجاه و چهار ساله‌ی خانه‌دار بوده است.

زنی که دچار بحران‌های شدید اخلاقیه، به شدت الکل مصرف میکنه و بخاطر دوران بد کودکی و رفتارهای توهین‌آمیز پدری که به شدت ضدش بوده و مدام تحقیرش می‌کرده، ازدواج ناموفقی می‌کنه... مدام از همسرش ضربه می‌خوره هم روحی_روانی و هم جسمی.
زنی که مدام تهدید میشه، تحقیر میشه و نهایتا به این باور میرسه که هیچ ارزشی تو این دنیا نداره. او حتی دنیای بدون همسرش هم نمیتونه تصور کنه.
زنی که پر از زخم است، کتاب در کمال ناباوری به پایان میرسه و نشون میده روح آزرده چکارها که نمی‌تونه بکنه...

کتاب خیلی ناراحت‌کننده و غم‌انگیزی هست ولی واقعیته از خشونتی که به زنان تحمیل میشه، چه قبل از ازدواج و چه بعدش.

[Dannii Elle · Rating 4 out of 5]

This author has been on my radar since a creative course in university, when my lecturer provided us with her self-curated list of 100 books/authors to read in our lifetime. Roddy Doyle's name headed the piece. I acquired a collection of his best known works and then did nothing else with them for a few years.

I admit I was fearful that his writing might not have aged well, when I read the synopsis and reviews that spoke of this cultural focus. I was wrong. So very wrong. Doyle provides a startling and insightful vision of suburban Irish dialogue and society. His characters felt authentic and their flaws exuded life and vitality often missing from other contemporary literature, I have read. The dialogue also radiated personality. Each character was given a voice truly of their own and the nuances in tone and expression made them immediately recognisable, to the reader.

This was also a devastatingly sad read. As protagonist, Paula, takes us through her life in a series of flashbacks, we are invited to bear witness to the utter sorrow that has chronicled it. This entire piece was raw emotion. In places it was almost too sorrowful to continue reading and I spent much of my reading straining to make sense of the words, through tear-filled and red-rimmed eyes. There is a brutality evident in every scene this delivers.

This emotion is what made this an unforgettable piece. It has an important story to tell and a powerful message to deliver. It is also one I don't feel I could ever deliver, for how deeply its words have wounded it, despite the five stars I have awarded it. It is not a piece without hope but the horror ultimately outweighed the ending, for me.

[Amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love this author. He is raw with emotion. i love this passage:
"Everything made you on thing or the other. It tired you out sometimes. I remember spending ages exhausted and upset. It was nice knowing that boys wanted you then you couldn't want them back. If you smiled at more than one you were a slut; if you didn't smile at all you were a tight bitch. If you smiled at the wrong boy you were back to being a slut and you might get a hiding from his girlfriend, and she'd be a slut for pulling your hair and you'd be one for letting her. Boys could ask you to go with them and you couldn't ask them. You had to get your friends to let the boys know that you'd say yes if you were asked. That could make you a slut as well, if you go the wrong friend to ask for you....
-Slut
My little brother.
-Slut
My father.
Everyone. They were all in on it."

Roddy Doyle has a way of making the most devastating and meaningful statements in sentences that are about 5 words long. I don't know how he does it.

[Tony · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have given The Speech at least a hundred times. At least. The setting, the words, and sadly the result are essentially the same.

There is bustle all about. But I find the quietest room available. It’s me. And Her. And a cop or a counselor.

It’s not always the same HER, of course. But some are repeaters. Those ones have heard The Speech before, but they act as if they haven’t.

She’s been beaten. A little or a lot. Enough to call the cops. And now here we are, three to seven days later. She wants him out, which I know means She will take him back. The Speech is explanatory, detailed; some of it is ‘cover my ass’. When The Speech is over it will be my call, not Her’s. Yet almost every time I will do what She wants. It’s just first I have to give The Speech. She will want him out because of ‘the kids’. Which is why, near the end of The Speech, I make sure I tell Her that these things are generational: that if her son sees this, he will grow up to hit; and if her daughter sees this she will grow up and let herself be beaten. It is at that moment that I see a flicker of understanding. But it doesn’t change the resolve. I have not changed Her mind. It is then I think, and sometimes say, that the next beaten women who call the cops and follows through will be the first. That sadness sometimes gets a flicker too, but nothing more.

Paula Spencer, in The Women Who Walked into Doors, is such a woman. I read it because I read Roddy Doyle’s Two Pints and thought it was hilarious. Not great literature, mind you; but Doyle clearly has an ear. For the language of Dublinese. He has an ‘ear’ here too, in this otherwise depressing tale. But there are no insights and no great writing. It’s as if, fresh off his Booker, he decided to write a novel about domestic violence.

Told in the first person, there are rambling monologues by Paula. She repeats herself, the same phrases over and over – ‘Leave my Mammy alone’ ‘I fell’ ‘No one saw me’. She calls herself ‘The woman who walked into walls’ four times in four pages.

He loved me and he beat me. I loved him and I took it. It’s as simple as that.

No, it can’t be. It’s hard for me to understand because I’ve never had the urge. But I know it’s not that simple.

This book did nothing to help my understanding or my sadness.

[will · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Woman Who Walked Into Doors by Roddy Doyle.

Roddy Doyle is a wonderful writer. Normally his books are fast reads, he writes is an easy going flowing way. His books contain a certain amount of humour but that is because he writes "slice of life" stories. His characters are real, the stories are real and real life (or so I've been told) contains a certain amount of humour.

The Woman Who walked Into Doors possesses many of these ingredients but there is a shadow over the book. It is a love story but it is the story of a victim, a woman who is beaten by her husband, a woman who spends time in hospital, hiding the beatings with a simple excuse: I walked into a door. Whereas normally Doyle's stories flow, this shadow makes the book a slow read. It is a thin book, a mere 200+ pages, but it is a very thick read. The end of the book contains so much violence, violence of language, violence of action, violence of deeds. It is a redeeming story, Paula Spencer finally escapes from her prison - instead of walking into doors she finds the key to open the door and leave. But the story is so harrowing that there is no sense of relief at the end. I finished the book drained and upset.

Doyle has written a follow up, called Paula Spencer, that sits on my bookshelf. I suppose I should read it straight away. There has to be a happy ending (or at least I hope there is) but at this moment I don't really want to drag myself back into Paula's world. I need some light relief.

This was a good book, a not an enjoyable book, because the story isn't one that you could really "enjoy". It tells a tale that, by the end has an outcome where all of the victims of Charlo's violence are still alive - if they actually have lives, remains to be seen.

[James · Rating 5 out of 5]

'The Woman Who Walked Into Doors' (Roddy Doyle/1996) is based on characters created by Doyle for an earlier RTE/BBC TV drama 'Family'.

The story here centres on Paula Spencer, her (mis)remembered childhood, her experiences whilst growing up and her life in a violent, loveless, poverty stricken and abusive marriage.

'Walking Into Doors' gives a frightening, powerful, violent and desperately sad account of a life of domestic abuse - it is an unrelenting story of the fear, the guilt, the denial, the suffering, the manipulation, the hopelessness, the control and the imprisonment (both psychological and physical) of the subject.

This is a horrible but brilliantly written story told with a feeling of complete authenticity. Quite how Doyle is able to portray the life of the main/female protagonist and in the first person as here, so utterly convincingly, is testament to not only his literary skills, but also his understanding and empathy.

I have only read a handful of Doyle's novels, the last one being 'The Commitments' - clearly this is an entirely different kind of book. The significant differences in style, subject, matter, tone and effect are testament to Doyle's versatility as an author.

This an excellent and important book and as we find ourselves in the grip of pandemic lock down with domestic abuse/violence rates soaring - sadly still all too relevant and prescient.

[Michela De Bartolo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Paula una donna come tante , cresciuta in una famiglia con il padre padrone , ma non sono mancati i momenti felici , almeno così lei ricorda ..
Si sposa con Charlo un bulletto ammirato e osannato da tutti a scuola , ma tra tante sceglie lei . Il matrimonio , la luna di miele tutto il sogno idilliaco si trasformerà presto in un incubo . Charlo non lavora , spende i pochi soldi per bere . Paula rimane incinta e da questo i primi disagi , le incomprensioni e le mani . Gli schiaffi , le scuse , le domande “ Sei caduta ? “ Sei sbattuta nella porta ! Scuse e scuse che doveva raccontare al pronto soccorso! I dottori e le infermiere le credono nessuno le domanda cosa è successo davvero?? Il suo urlo interiore “Chiedetemelo “ un urlo durato 17 lunghissimi anni . Il naso rotto , i denti traballanti , le costole incrinate, punti in bocca , sul mento , un timpano perforato, bruciature .” Mi picchio , mi prese a pugni , mi violento per 17 lunghi anni “ .
Una scrittura fluida , semplice, efficace qualsiasi schiaffo mi ha colpito , ogni pugno l’ho preso in pieno ... donne denunciate, non tacete questo non è Amore .

[Teresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

O meu nome é Paula. Nasci na Irlanda em 1956. Éramos sete irmãos e vivíamos com pouco dinheiro. O meu pai era rígido, principalmente com as raparigas, e castigava-nos se nos pintávamos ou usávamos uma saia mais curta, porque ficávamos com má fama. A minha mãe não se metia.
Aos vinte anos apaixonei-me pelo Charlo. Casámo-nos e tivemos uma lua-de-mel maravilhosa - os únicos dias de casada em que fui feliz.
Tenho trinta e nove anos e quatro filhos. Sou viúva e trabalho a fazer limpezas.
Tenho um tímpano rebentado. Sítios onde deviam estar dentes. Marcas de queimaduras. Uma dor nas costas o dia inteiro. Um dedo partido. Cicatrizes, cicatrizes, cicatrizes,...
O meu marido bateu-me durante dezassete anos. E ninguém viu. Ninguém quis ver. Charlo acompanhava-me sempre ao hospital e os médicos tratavam os ferimentos que eu fazia a mim própria, ao cair da escada ou a ir contra as portas, porque estava embriagada.
Aguentei porque talvez a culpa fosse minha; por não lhe fazer um chá, por não gostar dele o suficiente, por defender os meus filhos, por ficar feia e gorda quando estava grávida, por...
Aguentei porque não tinha dinheiro, nem para onde ir...
Aguentei porque tinha medo de ele me matar e aos meus filhos...
Aguentei porque o amava...
Não aguentei porque amo os meus filhos...

[piperitapitta · Rating 4 out of 5]

Paula che amava troppo.

Prima
[21 giugno]

Arrivata alle ultime pagine, mi accorgo che sto digrignando i denti, ho la bocca serrata.
Ho tanta rabbia dentro, rabbia che vorrebbe trasformarsi in violenza.
In violenza fisica.
Vorrei prendere un Charlo qualsiasi e fare a lui tutto quello che gli uomini come lui fanno alle donne come Paula.
E poi vorrei farlo anche a tutte le persone, medici infermiere vicini di casa parenti colleghi, che fanno finta di non vedere i lividi, le fratture, le bruciature, gli occhi pesti, i denti saltati, i capelli strappati, credendo, come un bambino crede alle favole, come una donna crede a quell'uomo che dice di amarla, che esistono davvero, ancora oggi, le donne che sbattono nelle porte.
Ma non servirebbe a nulla, la violenza non si spiega con la violenza.
Questo è il Doyle che speravo di incontrare. Ma adesso è ancora troppo presto, sono ancora scossa, magari domani riuscirò a scrivere qualcosa anche sul romanzo in sé.

Dopo
[22 giugno]

Irlanda, non troppo tempo fa.
Paula O' Leary potrei essere io, perché nella storia, scritta nel 1996, non ha nemmeno quarant'anni.
Ad essere completamente diversa dalla mia, però, è la storia della sua vita, una storia di povertà e miseria umana in tutto dissimile da quello a cui pensiamo quando ci troviamo a riflettere sulla povertà e sulla miseria umana. Perché Paula O' Leary, Spencer quando nemmeno ventenne sposa Charlo Spencer, è una possibile vicina della porta accanto, e non un'abitante delle favelas.
Paula Spencer ha quattro figli, fa le pulizie nelle case, beve e porta sul corpo e nell'animo i segni delle violenze subite dal marito.
In un flashback lungo diciotto anni Roddy Doyle, attraverso il flusso di coscienza di Paula, ne ripercorre la vita, in una Dublino già raccontata e incontrata in maniera drammatica con McCourt o attraverso i ricordi agrodolci di O' Connor, i piccoli sogni dell'adolescente, il suo grande amore per Charlo, le prime delusioni. E poi le prime botte. I calci nella schiena. Le bruciature delle sigarette sulla pelle. I pugni in faccia. I buchi nel cuore che «le fanno male da morire, e non la smettono mai di farle male da morire.»
I sensi di colpa, la paura, la voglia di scomparire, la muta richiesta di aiuto e, nonostante tutto, l'amore che Paula continua a provare per l'unico uomo che abbia mai amato, quello che continua a giustificare cicatrice dopo cicatrice.

All'inizio, quando i ricordi sembrano affiorare quietamente, quando Paula inizia a raccontare a se stessa la propria fanciullezza, i ricordi della scuola, i rapporti con le sorelle e la scoperta della propria femminilità, ho fatto un po' di fatica ad entrare nella storia, perché, mi dicevo, tutto il mio affetto letterario per le ruspanti e genuine eroine irlandesi va ad Agnes Browne di Brendan O' Carrol; mi piace Agnes, ruvida, ignorante, ma spontanea e piena di umanità. Però, man mano che leggevo, man mano che andavo avanti con la lettura, e lentamente affiorava l'orrore cambiando in maniera quasi impercettibile l'atmosfera del romanzo, ho iniziato ad essere risucchiata dentro a questa storia in cui, come in tutte le storie di violenza alle donne, quello che stupisce non è tanto la passività, non è tanto la ferocia dei loro aguzzini, non è tanto il silenzio che le circonda, quanto, nonostante tutto, quell'amore malato che continuano a provare per il loro uomo, e quel senso di inadeguatezza che le colpevolizza e le rende incapaci di reagire.
Non tutte però, non sempre; alcune volte, come succede a Paula Spencer, anche se ferite nel corpo e nei sentimenti, anche se cadute nel precipizio più e più volte, ad un certo punto alcune donne sono capaci di comprendere, di alzare la testa e trovare una spinta per reagire. E quasi sempre quella spinta viene dal proprio sangue.

Questi sono i casi in cui mi chiedo sempre quanto ci sia del vissuto dell'autore, quanto si possa inventare, anche se attingendo alla cronaca nera, purtroppo sempre ricca di esempi. Roddy Doyle, qui, dimostra una sensibilità fuori dal comune, una capacità di immedesimazione nella psiche femminile che va oltre l'abilità dello scrittore, ed io non posso che ringraziarlo per questo, e sperare che gli uomini come lui siano capaci di ribellarsi ogni giorno di più alla violenza che molte donne subiscono tra le mura domestiche, e con la loro testimonianza aiutare tutti noi ad aprire gli occhi, le orecchie, e anche le porte.


[Marina Massironi, la donna che sbatte nelle porte]

Io gli avevo detto: «Fattelo da solo, il tuo tè del cazzo». Ecco cos'era successo. Esattamente così era successo. L'avevo provocato. Ero sempre io a provocarlo. Era sempre colpa mia. Avrei dovuto tenere la bocca chiusa. Ma nemmeno quello andava bene. Potevo provocarlo anche così. Anche se stavo zitta. O se parlavo. Se lo guardavo. Se non lo guardavo. Se lo guardavo in un certo modo. Se non lo guardavo in un certo modo. Se lo guardavo e parlavo. Se stavo seduta o se stavo in piedi. Se ero nella stessa stanza. Se esistevo.
Mi fece scegliere, una volta: destra o sinistra; io dissi sinistra e lui mi ruppe il mignolo della mano sinistra. Perché gli avevo bruciato una camicia mentre stiravo. Perché gli avevo dato un uovo troppo cotto. Perché il sedile del cesso era bagnato. Perché, perché, perché. Mi fece a pezzi. Ma io non smettevo di amarlo. Lo adoravo, quando la smetteva. Gli ero grata, avrei fatto qualsiasi cosa per lui. Lo amavo. E lui amava me.
Non si picchia la persona che si ama. Può capitare una volta, o due…nessuno è perfetto. Ma non come faceva lui in continuazione. Non ti metti a piegarle le dita fino a quando si spezzano. Non la vai a svegliare la mattina con un calcio nello stomaco. Non le tieni giù la faccia sopra la pentola per friggere, minacciandola di infilarle la testa nell'olio bollente. Non la picchi davanti ai bambini. Questo non è amore. Non è possibile amare qualcuno, poi picchiarlo, poi amarlo di nuovo, dopo aver lavato il sangue. Non riesco a tenere separate le due cose, l'amore e le mazzate. Non posso dire che certe volte lui era in un modo e certe volte in un altro. Non posso creare due Charlo. Non posso dividerlo in due, il buono e il cattivo. Se me ne sto a letto rannicchiata a pensare al buono sento la presenza del cattivo che mi fa venire i brividi alla schiena.

[Mohanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

کتابی که به شوخی بهم هدیه داده شد به خاطر اسمش ولی جزو کتاب‌هایی بود که باهاش واقعا دچار ناامیدی شدم. کتاب فوق‌العاده‌ای نیست ولی دست گذاشته رو داستان خشونت خانگی. زنی که کتک می‌خوره و کتک می‌خوره و هربار بیمارستان می‌ره امید داره که ازش بپرسن چیشده و هربار به خودش قول می‌ده که اینبار داستانش رو تعریف می‌کنه.
کتابی برای غصه خوردن برای زن‌ها:(
۳.۵

[Joanie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I decided to re-read this before reading the sequel Paula Spencer. I had forgotten just how good this book is, just how well Doyle does a female protagonist. The book is painful and sad and unflinching in it's descriptions of marital abuse and alcoholism but as always, Doyle adds in warmth and humor to make it all hurt less.

After my re-read I'm not sure that I want to read the sequel. I don't want to ruin the image in my head with a new story that might not be as good. Plus on the jacket it says that Paula finds a new man in the new book-I don't know that I can bear it if the story becomes a cutesy love story.

Roddy Doyle tells the story of Paula Spencer, a woman in an abusive marraige who has developed a drinking problem herself. Through flashbacks we learn about Paula's adolescence and courtship with her husband and we learn about the devastating abuse she suffered at his hands. The book is heartbreaking and gut-wrenching and so well done.

[Repix Pix · Rating 5 out of 5]

El maltrato en toda su crudeza.

[Kiessa · Rating 1 out of 5]

First, I'll admit that I am currently on page 79 of 226. If I had to rate my desire to keep reading from one to ten, ten being the most compelled to go on, I'd have to say that I'm about at -57.

Next, let me get this out of the way. I'm no prude, and I occasionally enjoy cursing like a sailor. But even I was shocked by Mr. Doyle's overuse of the words f* and c&*#. So much so, in fact, that I can't bring myself to retype the words because I'm so over-exposed to them. The volume of cursing was a distracting and unnecessary turn-off.

So Mr. Doyle has written a book about domestic violence. This is neither a surprise nor a spoiler; it was referenced on the back of the book. I have read other books about domestic violence, fiction and non-fiction, and have worked with survivors of domestic and sexual assault. Perhaps this is why I find this book to be so desperately inadequate.

Over 79 repetitive pages (filled with uncreative cursing, I repeat), this author has reduced the central character to one role. That of victim. Do we as readers really believe other human beings can be so completely uni-dimensional and incapable of other defining personality traits beyond their subjugation to others? Is it possible that a woman, any woman, could ONLY be defined by the long string of men who have abused her, everyone from her classmates to the milkman to her teachers to her husband? I personally don't think so. Nowhere in these 79 pages does there seem to be any semblance of a well-developed character.

There are so many books that capture the complexity of domestic violence with brilliant writing, rich characters, and a depth of understanding. Unfortunately, I don't think this novel is one of them. Anyone seeking an alternative that feels real and true might find something that will stick to their ribs in Here on Earth by Alice Hoffmann.

[Danna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I picked this one up from a display at the library. I had skimmed a few pages and the writing style caught my eye (he uses punctuation and italics to visually illustrate dialog and flashbacks). I think the author did a great job telling the sadly-classic story of the abused woman, how that situation came to be and the culture in which the situation flourished, how she finally found the strength to kick her husband out of the house and keep on living. I liked the way he was able to explore how subjective our memories really are, particularly the way we can re-write our own histories in our minds as a coping mechanism until we're ready to (or forced to) face the facts more clearly. Because we all see, interpret, and respond to the world differently, the glimpses into the sisters' views of their family experiences add interesting layers to the storytelling. Some reviews I read expressed disappointment in what was thought thought to be a depressing and/or unsatisfying ending without closure, but I thought it was honest and complete. I hear there's a sequel - I have many other books on my to-read list that I'm more excited about, so I doubt I'll get around to looking for it. I was satisfied with the ending of this one.

[Jodi · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars - The first in the 3-book Paula Spencer series.

Horrifyingly real.
And triggering.
Difficult to read; more difficult still to turn away from.
IMO, having been written by a man makes it highly Bravo-worthy!
👏🙌🙌👏

[Abigail Hillinger · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was interesting to read about domestic violence from a woman's point of view...written by a man. The first part of the book felt significantly different from the second part--the tone, the voice, the narrative itself. One part raised the questions and shuffled the puzzle pieces around so they wouldn't quite connect for the reader, and the second brought the reader directly into this woman's psyche as her husband is literally beating her soul out of her. Certain segments were brutal and almost too much to read, but that's what kept me reading--the fact that Roddy Doyle could have written this convincing female character and that I, as a woman, sympathized and understood her.

The writing at first felt too shaky and not believable, but as I said, the second half MADE the book.

[jpm · Rating 5 out of 5]

Confesso che ho approcciato questa lettura non conoscendo la trama e con, l'errata consapevolezza, che si trattava di una sorta di commedia.
Sono felice di essermi sbagliato! Non è una commedia che fa sorridere ma è la storia, narrata dalla stessa protagonista, di Paula Spencer convinta di aver trovato l'uomo dei suoi sogni, il suo principe azzurro, l'amore della sua vita.
L'innamoramento, il matrimonio la luna di miele e poi l'incubo fatto di prevaricazioni, maltrattamenti, botte, denti rotti, capelli strappati, ematomi, bruciature, dita spezzate tutte per lo stesso identico motivo: Paula sbatteva contro le porte!
17 anni di tormenti psicologici e fisici nella consapevolezza che la colpa era sempre sua, che lei era sbagliata, che lei sbagliava e ciò giustificava 'lo sbattere contro le porte' denunciato ogni volta che si recava al pronto soccorso.
Per fortuna anche gli incubi possono avere una fine, ogni tunnel porta alla luce e Paula la luce la vede quando il suo principe azzurro manesco inizia a rivolgere le sue attenzioni verso la figlia maggiore. A quel punto Paula decide che 'la luna di miele' è finita!
Ottima la scelta dell'autore di far narrare la vicenda alla stessa protagonista; ottimo lo stile narrativo, scorrevole, incisivo e duro quanto serve.
Un romanzo che mi ha commosso, emozionato e fatto incavolare contemporaneamente.
Buona lettura.

[Abbie | ab_reads · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’d never have expected what I got in this book just from the cover and title, but once you actually take a second to think about it, think about what the old excuse of ‘Oh I walked into the door’ to cover up a bruise or black eye actually means, then you’ll begin to have an inkling of what this book entails.
.
As I mentioned when I started reading it, I was hesitant to find a male author writing a female protagonist, as we’ve all encountered those male-authored women who think of nothing else but the way their nipples feel under their shirts all day long. I’m happy to tell you however, that Roddy Doyle is fully capable of having Paula go through the day without thinking unnecessary sexual thoughts about her OWN SELF. I know that’s a low bar, but thankfully he also goes above and beyond that, and I really enjoyed her sarcastic, humorous, and tragically beaten down narrative voice.
.
It’s set in Dublin and focuses on a working class family, as many of Doyle’s books do apparently, and truly Paula’s story just broke my heart. From her childhood where she was forced to grow up quickly because of the people in her life - from her friends, her vile desk mate, and mediocre to downright perverted teachers, I think Doyle paints an accurate if grim picture of working-class families in Dublin in the 60s and 70s.
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And it sadly doesn’t get any better for Paula. She becomes trapped in a violent marriage, and Doyle does an amazing job of detailing her thought processes both during the marriage and 17 years later when she’s reflecting back. His style works really well for this, with a sprinkle of humour and Paula’s rough mouth adding some lightness to the dark. For some reason though, my edition was littered with random bits of punctuation that I’m sure should not have been there. Like a • in the middle of a word or I,m instead of I’m, and it was really quite off-putting. Thankfully they stopped about two thirds of the way through.
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It is a very triggering book so proceed with caution if you’re sensitive to all types of assault and abuse. I also recommend going to read @aseriesofunreadbooks review because Lauren is far more eloquent than me!

[Tracy · Rating 3 out of 5]

i need to be honest. i will forget this book in 6 months. i enjoyed it, it was touching and raw. but it will vanish like most of the quick british/irish reads i've been enjoying lately, i.e. william trevor, patrick mccabe, patrick mcgrath. if these were romance novels, or anne rivers sheldon beach reads, then that would be expected. but since they are 'contemporary classics,' shouldn't they stick to the ribs longer? just because the subject is 'serious,' it doesn't mean that they aren't fluff of a different sort. is it just that i'm not reading closely enough, just a sort of high functioning skimming?

[Donna McCaul Thibodeau · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm not sure that I really liked this book but it definitely deserved a four star review. Roddy Doyle manages to write a book about an abused woman from her point of view and he nails it. Amazing, really. Searingly honest, it tells the story of Paula Spencer and her day to day life married to the abusive Charlo. I read this years ago and thought I'd never go back to it as it's just so sad but he wrote a sequel and I wanted to read it so I read this one again. One of Mr. Doyle's better efforts.

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very vibrant rendering of the interior landscape of a working class woman in Dublin in the 90�s. From the perspective of age 39, Paula tells her current story, working on a poverty income as a cleaning woman, raising three children, and recovering from the death of her estranged husband, while constantly reflecting on memories that chart her progression from childhood. With much empathy and humor, Doyle does an outstanding job of portraying how she taps the well of energies, budding sexuality, and liberating independence from her adolescence. The remembered dialog with friends and her large family from her youth is often exhilarating, something Doyle always excels at. The inaccuracy of memories is a bit of a theme in her ponderings, which especially comes up when her hopes to cherish loving relations are clouded or contradicted by abuse of one form or another or actions impaired by alcohol. Though the title of the book, and many sketches or blurbs about the book, might indicate that the novel is �about domestic violence�, the dark parts of the tale do not overwhelm the portrayal of the fervent life and soul of Paula.

[Debbie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Phew….this was a tough read, brilliantly written. It is a portrait of the marriage of Charlo and Paula Spencer, told in fits and bursts. It is the story of the severe spiral of abuse-physical, mental, and emotional. It is the reality of the healthcare system that looks away, and the children who suffer it as they watch their parents and learn to equate love with violence. It is the resilience of this character, Paula, that interested me as we get flashbacks of her life as a child and the changes she goes through as she grows and matures as she is told in the school system that she is not smart, but she learns she is sexy and pretty and that she holds power over boys. What I love about her are the real bits of joy that she is able to glean from the ordinary, and the imagination she uses to make up stories, which allows her to hope, even as she descends into alcoholism and despair.

[Mark Young · Rating 5 out of 5]

Surprisingly this is mostly a feel good book until the final quarter where things get really dark. The ending has you rooting for the main character.

Superb!

[Abril Camino · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sería un 3,5 en realidad. No sé muy bien cómo me ha hecho sentir este libro. Es demasiado crudo, incluso para mí, que me suelen encantar las historias así. Se me ha hecho demasiado largo el comienzo, cuando ella cuenta su infancia y adolescencia, y luego me ha gustado más hacia el final, aunque es una lectura -repito- demasiado sombría.

[Leo · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was my first book by Roddy Doyle and hopefully not my last. Been wanting to read another book by him for years but found this while browsing my local library. The cover and blurb did not at first seem to be a high 4 star read but I quickly changed my mind while reading it. Hopefully I can borrow more by him sooner rather than later

[Lyn Elliott · Rating 4 out of 5]

I came to this book reluctantly. Another book club choice I hadn't made; didn't want to read about domestic violence in general or an abused woman in particular.

But Roddy Doyle hooked me from the unexpected start, 'I was told by a Guard who came to the door. He wasn't one I'd seen before, one of the usual ones....I knew before he spoke. It clicked inside me when I opened the door. (For years opening that door scared the life out of me. I hated it; it terrified me)'.

And straight away we are into the chaos of Paula Spencer's life, the news that her violent husband Charlo is dead, wild kids, fear. Then a flash to when Paula and Charlo meet, and their immediate intense sexual attraction to each other. Another flash to Paula on the floor, Charlo standing over her. '"You fell, he said"'. No she hadn't. He had knocked her down.

Then a rapid fire introduction to Paula's family, the O'Leary's. Most sections are very short. Like flashes of memory. Some incidents just a picture, sometimes whole conversations recalled in detail as Paula and her sisters talk together. Gradually something like a full story emerges from the pieces Paula remembers as she tries to piece her life together again, a year after she finally threw the by-now monstrous Charlo out of the house. She tries to recreate a good life, but there was no good life with Charlo, not after the first exhilaration had passed. First excitement. then excitement and fear together. Then just terror.

The acts of violence don't occupy much space in the book and Paula doesn't face up to the fundamental questions until near the end. These come down to: 1) Why didn't anybody in the hospitals she went to so many times ask her the questions that would have allowed her to tell the truth - she hadn't dislocated her arm or broken her jaw by falling down the stairs (again) or had a black eye because she walked into a door. The husband who accompanied her to hospital had done it. But nobody ever did.
The doctors she saw never looked at her properly. They never looked her in the eye, never saw the whole of her. They smelt drink on her breath and that was that.

2 'Why did he do it? He loved me and he beat me. I loved him and i took it. ... You can't love someone one minute, then beat them, and then love them again once the blood has been washed off. I can't separate the two things, the love and the beatings. ... I can't make two Charlos . I can't separate him into the good and the bad. I take the good and the bad comes too'.

Doyle has created a believable battered woman, driven to alcohol as a means of survival, grappling to understand her life. Somehow she remains strong, despite the black despair she lived in for so long.
He has managed to speak in her voice throughout the book - difficult enough for a woman who has not known these desperate places herself, but quite extraordinary for a man. One of the reviewers quoted not eh back cover of the book clearly did not understand the hideous world of abuse and terror that Paula inhabited with Charlo. He (I presume it was a he) talked about 'the vulnerability and courage of a woman trapped in a loveless marriage'. Loveless marriage????? Come on. This was vicious, repeated criminal violence, carried out by a brutal man on the woman he professed to love, and she kept on loving him. Let's be honest and say a violent marriage.

Doyle wrote this book about twenty years ago (first published 1996). The violence he wrote about then still exists, in all classes of society. Once can only hope that more women get the help they need than Paula and other beaten women did then, that more doctors and nurses see the whole person, and the police become more capable of dealing with domestic violence as criminal assault.

I want to read more Doyle to see what else he has to say about desperate lives, and to read about him so I can understand more about what drives him as a writer.

'Paula Spencer' is a more recent sequel, set ten years later, when Paula has survived and has begun to stop drinking. I will read this. I won't however, go back to find the tv series of the Spencer Family which preceded 'The Woman who Walked into Doors'. The Spencers are so appalling, it is hard enough to confront them on the page when you can look away, go and do something else, not have to visualise too closely.

[Jo Davies · Rating 4 out of 5]

The fact that Roddy Doyle could write a book about a woman stuck in an abusive relationship and make it so utterly believable is a testament to his imagination and extreme skill as a story-teller. The story opens with Paula Spencer, a middle-aged Irish wife and mother, being told that her abusive husband Charlo has been killed by the police in an aborted attempt at kidnapping a local bank manager. This revelation fuels a boatload worth of memories of her marriage to the man at whose hands she suffered nearly two decades of humiliation and abuse.

Doyle effectively uses a stream-of-consciousness style to make Paula's struggles breathtakingly immediate. You can almost feel the kicks, the slaps, the punches. You understand why Paula turns to alcohol to endure, as well as the motherly devotion which drags her back from oblivion. Doyle takes Paula's psyche and turns it inside out. He examines the guilt she feels for so many reasons: she's failed her children, she's disappointed her family, she has (nearly) allowed her husband to destroy her.

Doyle asks the difficult questions about why women stay in abusive relationships and lets Paula answer them, with no punches pulled.

Stunningly good.

[KateMc · Rating 2 out of 5]

I picked this book up out of bargain bin at a used book store because I was sure that someone/thing had recommended it to me. I'm now all the way through it and can't figure out why it sounded familiar.

This book is a woman in ireland jumping between the present where she struggles with alcohol dependency and her husband's death - and story telling from her past, including her childhood and when her husband first started to physically abuse her.

There were some really powerful passages and the writing style was interesting but sometimes I felt like the scenes were headed in circles. I think if the phrase "tumble-dryer" hasn't been coined for this kind of thing it should be - like the same elements going around but with a slight variation that you only notice because you're staring right at it.

[Kasa Cotugno · Rating 4 out of 5]

Roddy Doyle has a distinct knack for dialogue and inner monologue. The reasons for Paula's enduring the abuse for so long are clearly apparent given her upbringing and sense of entrapment with no options. I actually read one of the followups last year, which continues Paula's story and her relationship with her grown daughter.

[Emilia P · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a damn good book.
Maybe "good" isn't the right word for it, but, well, Roddy D. was spot-on at getting a regular woman's voice to come through, filled with the uncompartmentalized joy, memory, despair, need, and hope that come with a hard life.

The first-person narrative flashes between the past -- a not altogether unpleasant youth, and a pretty dismal but relieved present wherein Paula Spencer has kicked her husband out of the house, only to find, a year later, that he's killed a woman and in turn been killed by the police. The chapters on the past inch ever closer and closer to the present -- the courtship, the wedding, the honeymoon, the first flat, the first beating. The interspersed chapters on the present reflect on her children as they are now, her semi-functional and desperately sad (but also, understandable!) alcoholism, and the facts of her husband's death. Finally, in a great and nearly unbearable torrent, she recounts the nearly two decades of marriage that are a blur, "mush", of beatings, bone breakings, being a lump on the floor, two black eyes, and how nobody saw, nobody asked, presumed she was a drunk and it was her own fault. Everyone (doctors, cashiers, etc) , not just her husband, saw her as a collection of parts, rather than as a whole person, who needed help. It was really, chilling

What was so striking about this book to me was not really that terrible litany of pain, but the way she was brave enough to see it within the context of her larger life, and that she was able to claim her larger life at all. I hate to pull the "Irish voice" card, but the style here was a lot like the Patrick McCabe tone, a believable and relatable, sympathetic sort of madness which we all walk around with in our heads everyday. The messiness of one's interior life which doesn't, maybe can't, translate to public life.

Roddy Doyle's pretty freaking great, and easy to read to boot. Thank you sir.