ireland

Even during her sly, vicious husband Ryan’s “good” moments, Ciara feels “part of her body (toe tips, ear lobes, the backs of her knees) is listening, tense, on high alert.” And in his bad moments, “The toppled chair. The smashed bulb. The broken handle. Her bones and blood.” She’s left before, but his rage at her absence was too dangerous to endure. But when she sees a new opportunity, she takes her two small daughters and flees. Here the reader will begin to understand the naivete of “why doesn’t she just leave?” (Why doesn’t anybody ever ask why he doesn’t “just” leave?). Dublin’s rental market is impossible, so Ciara and the children are homeless, forced to stay in a cramped hotel room provided by the city. Ciara, who is pregnant with her third child, has no job, at controlling Ryan’s insistence, of course. Her mother-in-law tells her that she’s going to hell for treating “poor Ryan-Patrick” this way. Child support is non-existent, and Ryan is determined to take full custody of the children even though he appears to hate them and has never lifted a finger to care for them. Watching Ciara claw her way out of this is a gripping view of endurance, terror, bravery and the small and large kindnesses that make her life bearable. The characters here are superbly drawn, the dialog spot on, and I can’t wait for more from this debut novelist.

This dark, introspective work, which unexpectedly reveals a golden-hued motivation on the part of its main character, reads like Scandinavian noir. But this gem is by an Irish author and follows his Booker Prize-longlisted Solar Bones. McCormack brings us to the west of Ireland, home of Nealon, a man returning from prison, though at first all we know is that he’s been away. He finds his home unexpectedly empty, the electricity switched off, and his wife and child gone. Right away, he gets a call from a stranger who, in a tone so jaunty it’s sinister, congratulates Nealon on his homecoming and offers to tell him where his family is in return for a meeting. As Nealon whiles away the days—after firmly declining the meeting—in a strange limbo, contact with the stranger continues and the former prisoner finds that the motivations for his crime may come to light. West of Ireland weather sets the tone, as “a huge, bruised cloud moves across the sky, with leaden sheets of rain peeling from its underbelly.” But it’s the anonymous, yet intimate, comments from the needling stranger that keep the writing on its toes and Nealon facing “a massive cessation of all that passes for the run of things.” For fans of Donal Ryan and David Malouf.

Nesting

This Plague of Souls