Category: Roddy Doyle

In Alex Verus, Benedict Jacka, Fiction, General Fiction/Literature, Jo Perry, Mike Chen, News/Misc., Roddy Doyle, Science Fiction, Seanan McGuire, Toby Daye, Urban Fantasy

2021 Favorite Non-Crime
Back when I started this site, I knew the content would be largely “genre”-oriented. I’d have wagered the content would be roughly 1/3 Mystery/Detective fiction, 1/3 Urban Fantasy, and slightly less than 1/3 SFF, with “non-genre” fiction, humor, and non-fiction being enough to make my one-thirds just an approximation (honestly, if you asked me what I read regularly, that’s pretty much how I’d describe it today). Actual numbers show that’s wrong—it’s almost 40% Crime/Thriller Fiction, and Urban Fantasy has only topped 20% once in the last decade—it was 16% the last two years, SFF combined for about 14% in 2021.

Which is just a long-winded way to get to these two points: because Crime Fiction takes such a big chunk of my reading, it gets its own “Favorite” list, but none of the others really garner enough numbers for their own.

As always, re-reads don’t count—only the works that were new to me.

(in alphabetical order by author)

We Could Be Heroes

by Mike Chen

My original post
A super-hero and a super-villain become friends after meeting (as civilians) at a support group meeting and delve into their shared past to figure out how they got their powers and who they used to be. That old story. 🙂 In typical Chen fashion, the SF/super-hero elements are just an excuse to tell a story about friendship, memory, and identity. It’s a story about people, who just happen to be super-powered.

4 Stars

Love

by Roddy Doyle

My original post
This is about as close as you can get to a novel without a plot. You’ve got a pair of old friends, getting together for drinks (many, many drinks) and to catch up on each other’s lives. They end up revisiting their past (as you do), arguing about what really happened then, and seeing how it’s impacted where they are now. There’s more to it, but that’ll do for our purposes. The novel is primarily told through dialogue (although we do get memories and internal commentary from one of the men). As is to be expected from Doyle, that dialogue sings. You can practically hear it jump off of the page–I’m not sure I could conjure up a mental image of anyone in the book, but I know exactly what they’d sound like.

4 Stars

The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling

by Henry Fielding

My wrap-up post for the project
I read most of this in 2020, but didn’t finish it until 2021, so it goes on this list. Just for the (mostly rewarding) time spent on this book, it deserves a spot on this list. It’s not really the kind of book I thought it would be, but it’s so much more interesting. I’ve said enough about this book, I don’t really have it in me for more–it’s a classic, anyway, what can I say that hasn’t been said for hundreds of years?

5 Stars

All the Lonely People

by Mike Gayle

My original post
This is nothing but an all-out attack on the cockles of your heart. I described it to a friend, “Imagine a book by Fredrick Backman–but instead of a crotchety old Swedish man, it’s about a lonely man who left Kingston for London in the 50s.” It’s so heartwarming, so Capra-esque, so…eh, you get the point.

5 Stars

Not Awkward

by Matthew Hanover

My original post
Hanover’s third Wallflowers novel came out last year and shows real growth as a writer, while not losing any of the charm, heart, and likability of his previous novels. Just before his wedding, Scott goes to the funeral for his ex’s father, and somehow ends up spending a few days with the family. Not Awkward is a warm and heart-filled story about revisiting the past, finding healing (whether or not you thought you needed it), and embracing a future that doesn’t look like you expected it would (and is probably better). It’s the kind of book that’ll make you feel a little better about life for a while—and who doesn’t want to read something like that?

4 1/2 Stars

Risen

by Benedict Jacka

My original post
The twelfth and final book in the Alex Verus series blew me away. It’s one of the best series finales I remember reading. It was hard to say good-bye to this world and these characters, but Jacka did such a satisfying job with this novel that it took some of the sting out of it.

5 Stars

When Sorrows Come

by When Sorrows Come

by Seanan McGuire

My original post
If (and that feels like a big “if”) October Day is going to get a Happily Ever After, it’s going to be years down the road. Thankfully, she got a “Happy Right Now” by marrying Tybalt. That’s pretty much what this novel is–a big dollop of happiness (with Toby putting down a palace coup along the way). It was so nice seeing that.

5 Stars

Headphones and Heartaches

by Wesley Parker

My original post
Percy’s a teen who gets put into Foster Care after his mother’s latest OD. While she’s in a treatment program, Percy comes to trust and love his foster mother–a woman with a huge heart, who takes in this boy and gives him a safe place to be for the first time in his life. This is a sweet book, a touching book—an occasionally hilarious book (with some truly cringe-worthy beats)—I guess it’s best summed up as a very human book. Parker got me to feel all sorts of things for these characters, to a degree I didn’t expect or was prepared for.

5 Stars

Pure

by Jo Perry

My original post
(sure, you could make the case that this is Crime Fiction, but I don’t buy it) After Ascher gets quarantined in her late aunt’s retirement condo during the early days of COVID. She sneaks around volunteering for a Jewish Burial Society, and then becomes convinced that one of the women she helped with was the victim of foul play. So Ascher tries to figure out what happened and who is responsible–again, while sneaking around the retirement community’s quarantine. This is a mystery novel about something—it’s more than a whodunit (assuming there was something for a “who” to have “dun”). It, like pretty much everything Perry writes, is about death and how we deal with it as humans (and one neurotic and grieving Mini-Pinscher). THere’s more to chew on, too, but that’d be telling…

This is one that’s going to stay with me for a while.

4 Stars

In Ten Years

by Ian Shane

My original post
A contemporary When Harry Met Sally that makes me just as happy as the movie ever did. Tried and true plotlines that felt fresh thanks to Shane’s light touch and ear for dialogue. It contains what’s probably my favorite chapter of 2021–and more than a couple of my favorite lines. I wanted to race through it to see how it ended, and I wanted to slow down to savor it (the impulse control side lost–what do you expect from someone who tagged himself “Irresponsible”?).

5 Stars

Love by Roddy Doyle: Pull Up a Stool, Order a Pint, Listen In on This Conversation

By HCNewton

On August 30, 2021

In Fiction, General Fiction/Literature, Roddy Doyle

Love

by Roddy Doyle

Hardcover, 327 pg.
Viking, 2020

Read: August 19-20, 2021
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

—Well, that was how it felt, he said. —Like we’d never been apart.

—But—.

—I know, he said. —I know. We’d never been much together. But I’m talking about feelings here, not facts. Feelings. The feel of the thing.

It sounded like something he’d said before. More than once.

What’s Love About?

Joe and Davy are men in their 50s—in their 20s, they were drinking buddies, spending every weekend together at as many Dublin pubs as they possibly could. Eventually, they grew out of it. Davy moved to England with his wife. Joe settled down, too.

Now they see each other once or twice a year when Davy comes over to visit his father. It’s really the only time Davy drinks anymore. And, boy howdy, do they drink a lot.

This novel takes place over the course of one night/early morning, starting after dinner when they have a couple of drinks. Joe has a story he wants to tell Davy, he needs to unburden himself. Davy has something he needs to talk about, too, but he won’t let himself.

And that’s the novel—the two going from pub to pub, having a couple of drinks, and moving on. Sometimes out of choice, sometimes because they got a little too loud and are asked to leave. They walk a bit, sober up a touch (while continuing their conversation), and find a new pub to have a pint or two in before being asked to leave.

And if that doesn’t sound that interesting to you, have you ever listened to a couple of Irish people telling stories?

The Title

In the cleverly titled book, The Four Loves, C. S. Lewis posits that there are four different types of love and spends some time describing each.* Others have come up with different numbers, different categories. Which is just to say that the concept of “love” is a tricky one to nail down. To borrow Justice Stewart’s phrase, most of us know it when we see it, and most of us settle for that.

* It’s beside the point, but I feel compelled to list them: Affection (storge), Friendship (philia), Romantic (eros), Charity (agape).

All this is to say, it’s really impossible to know precisely what the title refers to—there are several types of love displayed in this book, and I can see some people trying to argue for which one is most fitting.

After a little thought, I’ve decided that Doyle is referring to them all (and I don’t think that’s a cop-out). It’s about two men struggling—and aided by several of the pints in the cover image—to find ways to talk about love.

Feelings

There is a reason why men don’t talk about their feelings. It’s not just that it’s difficult, or embarrassing. It’s almost impossible. The words aren’t really there

That’s from the beginning of the book, Davy’s narration noting the difficulty that Joe’s having getting his story started. It’s seen a few times after that (I should point out that at least Joe is trying, Davy’s avoiding it entirely).

Which is where beer comes in, I guess. Joe never quite expresses himself the way he wants—Davy doesn’t help that much, really—but he gets asymptotically close. The number of pints they consume to get him to the point where he gets close is enough to make my liver sick. Part of the enjoyment of this novel is watching these two try to get the words right.

—The drink is funny, though, isn’t it? You see things clearly but then you can’t get at the words to express them properly.

—Or somethin’.

—Or somethin’, yeah.

Conventional wisdom suggests that two women wouldn’t need that much alcohol—or any, really—to achieve the same ends, if not do a better job of expressing and understanding the emotions being discussed. I expect that wisdom is right (but wouldn’t die on that hill)—and the ensuing novel might be less entertaining. Still, I’d like to see someone give it a shot.

So, what did I think about Love?

—It’s a thing abou’ gettin’ older, he said. —At least, I suppose it is. So many memories, you know. It become, harder to separate wha’ happened from wha’ might’ye happened an’ wha’ didn’t happen but kind o’ seemed to.

He was looking at me.

—Is it? he asked.

—Is memory reliable? I said. —Is that wha’ you mean?

—I think so, yeah. yeah.

This is a novel about love—obviously—and old friends, memory, nostalgia, the power of reminiscing, aging, dealing with the past (whether it happened or not), family, forgiveness, trust…and a few more things, too. All discussed in the story that Joe’s telling and the stories that Davy isn’t telling.

When I read this in a couple of years, it wouldn’t surprise me if I come up with a different list of subjects.

But in a sense, it really doesn’t matter what you think the novel is about—it can be enjoyed and chewed on just with the surface. A couple of old friends talking.

Doyle’s dialogue is as strong as it ever was. The dialect makes it jump off the page, you don’t so much read this book as hear it with your eyes.* It is funny, it is tragic, it’s heartbreaking, it’s wistful, and occasionally silly. It runs the gamut—both for the characters and the reader.

* Yeah, I know, I know. Roll with it, will you?

If you haven’t read Doyle before—this is a pretty good ice-breaker. If you know his work, this is exactly what you expect (a little closer to the feel of The Barrytown Trilogy than A Star Called Henry or Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha). His idiosyncratic punctuation and approach to dialogue tags and paragraphs might cause you to stumble at first—but once you catch on, you won’t even notice it.

It’s like you’re sitting there on a night on the town with these two, just catching up with old friends and enjoying the conversation with them (even if you’re not holding up your end). And who doesn’t think that sounds like a fun time?

4 Stars

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Reread Project: The Van by Roddy Doyle

By HCNewton

On September 2, 2015

In Authors, Blog Series, Fiction, General Fiction/Literature, Reread Project, Roddy Doyle

The Van

by Roddy Doyle
Series: The Barrytown Trilogy, #3

Trade Paperback, 311 pg.
Minerva, 1991
Read: August 25 – , 2015
Jimmy Rabbitte, Sr. started off as a supporting character in The Commitments, moved up to co-star in The Snapper, and finally moves to the forefront in The Van, which is more about him than the other two were about any one person. Which isn’t to say that Jimmy, Jr., Sharon, Veronica, Darren and the twins aren’t here, they’re just in the background — as are most of Jimmy, Sr.’s friends (actually, I think Jr.’s in this far more than he was The Snapper).

Not only is the focus more narrow, the final installment in the trilogy is different in other ways — it’s almost 100 pages longer (depending on the printing) than The Snapper which was about 50 pages longer than The Commitments. Which gives Doyle more space to do things he hadn’t really before. It’s still primarily told through heavily stylized In the first 90 pages, I estimated I’d read more (significantly more) narration than I did in the first two volumes of the trilogy.

It’s not been clear before what Jimmy did for a living, but whatever it was, it was pretty clear the bills were barely paid. They stretched what they had pretty far, but they seemed to manage. Somewhere along the line, pretty sure it was post-Snapper, but I’m not sure, Jimmy lost his job. Unemployment isn’t setting well with him — he can’t support his family, he’s bored, he can’t even go down to the pub to have a few pints with his friends.

Jimmy’s trying to grow — he’s reading the classics. Thinking of taking some classes. But it’s not enough. At some point his friend, Bimbo, also gets laid off. The two spend a lot of time together — having a companion in his unemployment makes the whole thing tolerable for Jimmy — almost like summer vacation from school. Bimbo isn’t quite as accepting of this new reality — he almost applies to work at McDonald’s, but is shamed out of it by Jimmy. Bimbo’s wife is even less satisfied with his job status. Which leads to a reckless move on Bimbo’s part — reckless, yet maybe inspired — he uses some of his last dollars on a Chip Van (minus an engine). In the midst of the U.S.’ current Food Truck craze, this might not seem so risky, but in the early 90s? (then again, what do I know of early 90’s Dublin, other than what I’ve picked up from Doyle’s novels and the movies based on them?)

They’ve just a few weeks until the World Cup games start when they hope they can cash in on the post-game crowds. So Jimmy and Bimbo rush to clean the, learn to cook, design a menu, etc. And now you’ve got yourself a plot — can these two make a go of this? Can they remain friends and co-workers? Will they start a grease fire that destroys the whole of Barrytown?

There was, it seemed to me, a maturing of Jimmy that started back in The Snapper. Not that he wasn’t a good father before, but he kicked it into a higher gear with Sharon during her pregnancy. Here, that seems to manifest itself in a paternal pride — Junior’s having some sort of success out there, is getting married; his other son, Darren, is doing very well in school (better than anyone else in the family, that’s sure). Part of Jimmy’s reaction to it is finding pleasure in someone else’s success for what it means to them. I’m not convinced that the Jimmy of The Commitments or the first part of The Snapper could do that.

That’s not to say that he’s Man of the Year material or anything. There are some real (human) flaws to him. He’s petty, he’s jealous, he’s proud — there’s some sort of mid-life crisis that he’s got a half-hearted interest in involving Other Women. As in all good fiction, these just make him someone you can like, someone you can relate to, someone you can get annoyed with — even pity.

There’s some great, great stuff about sports fans here — national pride around The World Cup, the joy in sports, the very real camaraderie that can exist for a few moments around a shared experience. That’s not my typical milieu, but I’ve tasted it a time or two — and I can’t imagine many capture it better than Doyle did here. Even if I didn’t like the rest of the book, I think that part would’ve been worth it.

In the end, this is Doyle’s best work (to date), not the most enjoyable, but the best. It’s impossible after reading this, to ignore Jimmy, Sr.’s brief appearances in The Commitments, to not pull for him earlier than you should in The Snapper, and really to forget him. Just a great character in a world you really don’t want to leave.

—–

4 Stars

Reread Project: The Snapper by Roddy Doyle

By HCNewton

On July 10, 2015

In Authors, Blog Series, Fiction, Reread Project, Roddy Doyle

The Snapper

by Roddy Doyle
Series: The Barrytown Trilogy, #2

Paperback, 212 pg.

Penguin, 1992

Read: May 20 – 21, 2015Naturally, after one of the best rock band novels ever — one fully of music, laughs, and style — Doyle follows it up with a heartfelt story of a young woman who gets pregnant after a one-night stand. Who wouldn’t?

Now, Sharon (the young woman in question) is the sister of Jimmy Rabbitte — The Commitments’ manager. So there is a tie — and we saw a little of their father and the rest of the family last time. Still, this feels so different, it’s hard to conceive of them being part of a trilogy. Oh well — it works — so who cares?. Carried along by Doyle’s inimitable style, this story — which could easily have been maudlin, overly sentimental, or sappy; comes across as genuine and heartfelt instead.
Where The Commitments was full of laughs, raunch, and style; The Snapper is full of laughs, family and heart. It’s not just about one member of the family this time — it’s all of them. The focus is on Sharon and her father, Jimmy, Sr.

Sharon finds herself “up the pole,” much to her distress. She knows who the father is, a one-night stand (something far less meaningful, actually) she wishes had never happened. Unwilling to let anyone know the father’s real identity, she makes one up (which also relieves her of the need to let the real guy have anything to do with the kid). Initially, she’s in sort of a denial — she knows the baby will change everything. But that’s months away — right now, she and her friends can still hit the pub after she gets off working at the supermarket and pretend that everything’s just like it was a couple of weeks ago. Eventually, she starts to make the changes necessary, but only when she has to. There’s personal growth here for Sharon, when she has no choice. But honestly — other than questionable taste in men, and an utter lack of awareness about Fetal Alcohol Syndrome — she seems like she’s got her head screwed on right already.

Jimmy, Sr. seems like the kind of guy you’d like to hang out in a pub with occasionally — I think he (and his friends) would get old quickly if you hung out with them all the time. Generous, funny, and gregarious. Maybe not the most responsible guy around — but he’s making ends meet (mostly), and doing (almost) his best for his kids. Eventually, he seems to get his act together for Sharon — or at least he tries. Which just makes you like him more — even as (because?) he just doesn’t make it some times.

While these two are on the forefront of Doyle’s attention, we do get some time with Sharon’s siblings (even Jimmy, Jr. — a little bit — who’s still trying to make it in the music business) and long-suffering mother. We watch the family stumble along through financial woes, various school clubs, a bicycle club or two, and being the subject of neighborhood gossip. These all might not be as well-rounded as Sharon and her father are, but they’re close enough that you think you know them.

Back in college, I read The Commitments a lot — but I think I read The Snapper more. It’s not as fun as its predecessor, but it’s a better novel — populated with actual people, actual growth, and something that looks a lot like actual life for many people. The Rabbites could be your neighbors, and you’d be happy to have them, which makes getting to spend time with them between the covers of a book just that pleasant.

—–

4 1/2 Stars

Reread Project: The Commitments by Roddy Doyle

By HCNewton

On April 17, 2015

In Authors, Blog Series, Fiction, General Fiction/Literature, Reread Project, Roddy Doyle

The Commitments

by Roddy Doyle
Series: The Barrytown Trilogy, #1

Paperback, 165 pg.
Vintage Contemporaries, 1987
Read: April 15, 2015

Will yeh please put your workin’ class hands together for your heroes. The Saviours o’ Soul, The Hardest Workin’ Band in the World, —Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes —The Commitments.

This is a tough one for me to talk about — I’m a long-time fan, I’ve read it a dozen or so times, it’s all I can do to not turn total fan-boy and just gush. eh, I might not try too hard.

My college roommates and I became fans of the music video for “Try a Little Tenderness” from the soundtrack for the movie adaptation, and we waited for what seemed like a interminable amount of time before the movie came to the art-house theater in town. I loved it from the opening sequence on and tracked down the novel the next day. It blew my mind (for reasons I’ll get into in a bit), and I read it a dozen or so times over the few years until I loaned it (and the rest of the trilogy) to someone at work. Naturally, I never saw him again (I ended up with a copy of Gaines’ A Lesson Before Dying and another book in the transaction). I finally let myself buy a replacement copy a few years ago (found a used copy with the same cover), and have now read it twice. And, if anything, my appreciation grows each time.

It’s the late 80’s and three young Dubliners (from the poorest part of Dublin) have formed a band — sort of. Not everyone in it are musicians yet, but they’re working on it. Thanks to the direction of their keyboard (defined in the loosest possible way) player, they’re going to play synth-pop and go by the name “And And! And” (and, yes, I got the exclamation point in the right place). Their first order of business (while learning how to play) is to hire a manager. Jimmy Rabbitte is the guy from their school/neighborhood who’s the area’s music/music industry expert. As evidenced by the fact that he’s the first one anybody knew of that was aware of Frankie Goes to Hollywood — and, even greater — he’s the first to realize how bad they were. Jimmie gets things going immediately by dropping the name (especially that !) and the keyboard player.

Instead, they’re going to play American soul music — and then put an Irish twist on it — local slang, geographic references, and so on. Jimmie puts an ad in the paper to recruit some musicians, hits up a coworker he heard at a company party, and so on. As a result, he collects a very strange crew of musicians — including a trumpet player decades older than the rest of them, with plenty of professional experience (the trumpet in “All You Need is Love,” for example). The rest, as they say, is history.

The story of The Commitments is told through a very unconventional prose and dialogue style. It’s like Doyle took Leonard’s 10 Rules to the furthest point possible (other than #7, which he violates in every line). You can hear these characters talk, you can feel the energy in the room — heck, this book comes closer to capturing musical performances better than anything this side of Memorex or vinyl. Couldn’t tell you what anyone looks like (well, The Commitmentettes are pretty attractive — especially Imelda), what their homes are like, the weather, or anything of that other stuff that tends to fill the pages of novels. But I can tell you what happened, to whom, and how all related reacted. Which is good enough for me.

This isn’t one of those books that gives you diminishing returns upon re-reading. It’s fresh (while dated — no idea how Doyle pulls that off), funny, and full of soul. Dublin soul, of course. Just like the rag-tag musicians that come to life in its pages.

Oh, if you can get your hands on the soundtrack albums (or find them streaming somewhere) to listen to while reading, it makes it all better (even though there’s almost no overlap between songs).

—–

5 Stars