The Guts by Roddy Doyle

So we've come full circle. Roddy Doyle began his esteemed career with The Commitments, his novel which focused on Jimmy Rabbitte, Jr. as he forms a soul band in Dublin. In it, we get to know Jimmy and his large family, especially his father, Jimmy Sr., as well as a marvelous cast of characters that make up the ragtag group. It was a strong start and was the first of four books set in the fictional Dublin suburb of Barrytown. By the fourth book, Paddy Clarke, Ha, Ha, Ha, Doyle would win The Booker Prize. 

The Guts picks up with Jimmy twenty-seven years later (though it should be noted that we got to look in on him in the 2007 short story, The Deportees). Today, Jimmy is 47, happily married with his own four kids, and still working in the Irish music biz albeit in a pronounced niche market (Celtic Punk and one-off Irish punk rock re-releases). He has also been diagnosed with bowel cancer. 

Few authors are successful when revisiting characters from earlier works but as we saw a few years back with Paula Spencer, a sequel to The Woman Who Walked Into Doors, Doyle is more than able to reignite the proper spark and he does so here with Jimmy. It's like finding your old pal with whom you've lost touch, doing well all these years later. Except for the bowel cancer, of course. 

As Jimmy is treated and tries to keep it all together, we see some faces from the past in the book: Commitments co-founder and guitarist Outspan Foster, who is also suffering from cancer though his diagnosis is far more grim; Imelda Quirk, the former Commitments backup singer, still as beautiful as ever, and Jimmy's estranged brother, Derek, who left for England years ago and cut off communication with the Rabbitte clan. Happily, Jimmy meets his Da, Jimmy Sr., for pints on a regular basis and we get to see he's doing well in retirement. 

For me, this book succeeds for so many reasons. Aside from being a huge fan of Doyle's work, I'm the same age as Jimmy and a number of the issues that Doyle addresses in the book have become all too familiar to me. People I know are getting sick and I'm at the age when I'm attending more funerals and fewer weddings. One scene in particular, about having fewer and fewer male friends in middle age, caused me to double over in actual sobs. Few writers, even my very favorites, have the ability to affect me so. Too, Jimmy and I are turning into our fathers, anathema to us in our youth but a comfort now. 

It isn't all a lively romp with a bit of mortality thrown in to counterbalance the levity. Jimmy makes at least one terrible decision that made me angry with him but Doyle manages to make Jimmy all the more human. And as always, the dialogue crackles with life--so profane, so real so funny.

I can't say if we'll see Jimmy again in print though I'd love to check in with him when he and I are pushing sixty. By then, I'd like to think we'll have a learned a few things about what's most important and what matters least. I hope we have friends, we have love in our lives, we have our health, and we are content. Perhaps we can even get the band back together. 

Two Pints by Roddy Doyle

On our trip to England, we found a splendid indie bookstore in Bath, Mr. B's Emporium of Reading Delights (www.mrbsemporium.com). If you visit Bath, which you should since it's a lovely town, make certain you visit Mr. B's. It is a great example of what an indie can be: well-stocked, well-staffed, a quirky charm and the feeling of home. 

I'll have what he's havin'.

While I could have purchased a ton of books there, because it was early in our vacation and I didn't want to add to the considerable load we were schlepping already, I fear I left with only a single volume and a slim one at that (Sorry Mr. B.). It was here I purchased Roddy Doyle's Two Pints. 

Regular Reed-ers know I am a longtime fan of Mr. Doyle and have gushed over his works through the years (that's not to say I won't give him what for either. See what I thought of his finale to the Henry Smart trilogy here: http://goo.gl/JjoEK1). Fortunately, his latest is a gem. 

Two Pints, a collection of short pieces that Doyle posted on his Facebook page from 2010-11, allows us to eavesdrop on two middle-aged Irish men discussing matters large and small over a pint. It could be wife and kids and grandkids. It might be football and local Irish matters. It is certainly about politics, the economy, and death. No matter the subject, it is rare that I don't laugh at their musings or commiserate or find their perspectives dead on the money.  These aren't dopes, drunks, or fools. Just average guys with life experience, a healthy dose of skepticism, and common sense (mostly). There is also a marvelous running gag where one the lads keeps purchasing more and more "exotic" pets for his grandson, Damien. Think hyenas rather than ferrets.

From the very beginning of his career, one of Doyle's great strengths has been his gift for dialogue which has always been smart, sharp, funny, very realistic and often quite profane (Irish flautist James Galway visited the first bookstore I worked in. He read me a short passage from The Van, rife with f-bombs and said with obvious approval, "See that? Not feckin'. Fuckin'! That's how the Irish speak."). Two Pints is all dialogue and it allows Doyle to utilize his strongest suit. 

Doyle continues to post these pieces on Facebook. One from last week discussing the death of Seamus Heaney was very touching. His next novel, The Guts, in which we get to catch up with The Commitments' manager, Jimmy Rabbitte, will be out in the US early in 2014 and I'm desperate to get my hands on an advance copy. Two Pints will have to tide me over until then. 

Everybody Says Hello by Michael Kun

Occasionally, there are characters in books that I like so much or find so compelling, I wish the author would revisit them.  However, even for the authors who created the character from their own minds, hearts and experience, that is often too tall an order, the result unsatisfying or forced.  Updike was successful with Rabbit Angstrom as was Roddy Doyle with Paula Spencer.  I'm happy to say Michael Kun succeeds in catching us up with Sid Straw in his latest novel, Everybody Says Hello.  

We were first introduced to him almost ten years ago in The Locklear Letters and now we are afforded the opportunity to see how he has fared since.  This time, we meet up with Sid as he's heading from his beloved Baltimore and a broken relationship to start over on the West Coast in a new position at a computer company.  

Like its predecessor, Everybody Says Hello is an epistolary novel and Sid is a letter-writing dynamo.  (I especially loved the postcards he sends his young nephew that draw his sisters' ire.)  Unlike most epistolary novels, there is no correspondence; every letter is 'From the Desk of Sid Straw' and with every letter, nothing goes as planned. In his well-meaning zeal, each letter he writes makes a little mess turn into a bigger one and from there, well, the police are called, disputes arise with questionable hotel managers and his new life suddenly begins to unravel before it starts. 
 

Despite the fact that his biggest problem is that he just can't get out of his own way, Sid is a likable, kindhearted guy.  He is a pleaser, a romantic, and something of a nebbish.  If Leo Durocher's maxim was correct, Sid Straw, the epitome of 'nice guys', not only finishes last but he's also been guilted into sweeping up the joint, doing the dishes and cleaning the ashtrays.   Among his writing talents, Kun makes you feel like you know Sid.  He's your nutty uncle or your old roommate and he drives you a little crazy but he means well and he's always been SO good to you and in a pinch, he'd do anything for you.  Other writers might have foregone that sense of humanity for laughs but Kun succeeds in telling all sides of Sid's exploits in a clean, concise way without sacrificing anything.  Best of all, Michael Kun is damned funny; in my mind, he's one of the funniest novelists writing today.  


Though letter-writing has gone the way of the dodo,sadly, I would be curious to see how Sid is doing ten years from now.  Michael Kun, are you listening?

My Top Ten of 2011

Below are my favorite books from the past year.  A good mix I'm happy to have read and pleased to recommend--seven fiction, three non-fiction, a mix of male and female authors, contemporary and historical settings, debut and established authors.  



Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman

Swamplandia! by Karen Russell
 
Great House by Nicole Krauss
 
The Rules of Civility by Amor Towles
 
The Sisters Brothers by Patrick DeWitt
 
A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan
 
Bullfighting by Roddy Doyle


Life by Keith Richards 

Just Kids by Patti Smith

What It Is Like To Go To War by Karl Marlantes

Bullfighting by Roddy Doyle

I received a wonderful gift from my dear friend, Ms. Chicken Lips: an advance copy of Roddy Doyle's forthcoming short story collection, Bullfighting.

It is a book about men.  Empty-nesters still in love with their wives, guys who are no longer 'lads' but aren’t yet ‘oul ones’, all of whom remember the Ireland before the economic boom of the Celtic Tiger and its more recent aftermath.  It is a collection of mid-life crises, of decline, of having the scent of death grow stronger and come nearer than it ever has before.  

Moreso, it is a book about men who, having reached the middle, find themselves uncertain of both their pasts and their futures and torn by questions: When did the fun end? Why did I lose interest?  Why do I feel so useless? When did I change? Thankfully, these are not broken men.  They know full well they are capable of answering these questions with actions and answers that will right their own ships.  Still, the questions linger and hover and persist.  Some find resolution in small places; in a conversation with a school-age girl awaiting her Mum at a bus stop.  Others find solace in doing their jobs well or in the company of friends and family.  Still, some remain at sea.

This is not the Doyle of The Commitments or Paddy Clarke, nor, thankfully, of the Henry Smart trilogy.  This is an author in autumn, approaching winter.  In the hands of another writer, Bullfighting could easily be a dreary affair but, as ever, Doyle is deft, sprinkling humor and pathos across the pages.  Throughout his career, Doyle has always allowed us, entreated us to join him for the ride but now, as the ride gets closer to the station, what is important has changed and he asks us to stay strong and stay true to ourselves.  In The End, it will all work out. 

A free Roddy Doyle story

Regular Reed readers know how I respect and relish Roddy.  Here is a new short story he was asked to write for the upcoming St. Patrick's festival in Dublin.  

http://goo.gl/jzdmu

The Dead Republic by Roddy Doyle

Due out in May, The Dead Republic is the final installment of the Henry Smart trilogy that began ten years ago. Unfortunately, it is an uneven blend of the first two books, with only a few examples of the fine storytelling from A Star Called Henry and entirely too much of the intellectual laziness that marred Oh, Play That Thing.

Readers of this blog know my love of the authors' work so it pains me to say I found this third episode a gigantic disappointment. So obligated to the author and the work to see this through, even my self-imposed 50-page rule went ignored.

Irish rebel Henry Smart has become a flat, uninteresting character of two dimensions, capable of only two emotions--love and anger. The number of times Smart meets someone and declares "I could have killed him. In the old days, I would have" would make for a spirited drinking game; one which would render the players shit-faced. As well, it appears that by book three, Henry has become to stupid that he can't even recognize his own long-lost wife, the dangerous and delightful Miss O'Shea, despite sleeping next to her for many years. She is equally clueless but gets to spend most of the book in a literal coma. Would that we were all so lucky.

How and why Doyle expects us to believe what he puts forth is unimaginable. The situations are preposterous, the timeline is grueling and Henry just won't die. It can only be hoped Doyle got this character and this looooong saga out of his system and is back to more worthy novels.

The Deportees by Roddy Doyle

Sorry about the vernacular but I fookin' love Roddy Doyle, okay? I don't care what you think of him and I won't apologize--I love him. I read whatever he writes and usually enjoy every word. There have been some books that are better than others, natch, but he's got a way with dialogue and a feel for how people are and can be.

Imagine my surprise when I found out he had a collection of short stories called "The Deportees".

I was thrilled!

Imagine my further surprise when I found out it had been out since January of this year.

I. Was. Pissed.

At a man named Jason.

Jason used to work for Penguin as a sales rep and knew I loved Doyle and always hooked me up with advance copies. He even got me a signed copy of "A Star Called Henry", bless his heart. (G-d I loved that book) Then Jason took another job, a better job, and stopped repping and now I don't know anyone at Penguin and can't get my Doyle early, let alone for free so I'm like the rest of the rabble--uninformed and paying for books like a chump.

Alright, I wasn't pissed at Jason, I was pissed at myself for not keeping up on one of my very favorite authors.

As for the book, if you're a Doyle fan, you have to read it. The eight stories aren't all great but the man can write such circles around so many of his contemporaries, it scares me (I'm actually a little scare right now writing this!).

Best of all, Doyle often revisits his characters and in this collection, we get to catch up with Jimmy Rabbitte, manager and founder of Dublin's hardest working soul rebels, the Commitments! It's a few years after the band has imploded. Jimmy's a family man now and, despite his better judgment, he decides, no he NEEDS to put a new band together. The Deportees, a multi-culti cast of musicians who form a band to perform Woody Guthrie songs, are a reflection of the wave of immigration that happened as Ireland went from being penniless, backward-ass Ireland to the Celtic Tiger, the most economically successful country in Europe in recent memory. And reading about Jimmy again (and his Da!) is like running into an old friend you forgot how much you loved.

Paula Spencer by Roddy Doyle

It’s been 12 years since Doyle introduced us to Paula as The Woman Who Walked Into Doors, a battered wife and mother struggling with alcoholism. At the time, Doyle said he’d like to revisit her at some point in the future to see how she was doing. Here we are. When we left Paula, she was hiding her gin in the garden shed and tossing the key out in the yard to make it difficult for herself to drink. Unlike his last two books, sweeping novels both, Doyle instead keeps this story small. At this point, Paula is making a life for herself, a life she never thought she could actually live soberly. These small victories—holding down a job, saving money, being a responsible adult, at last—are all new to her and something to help measure her life. She’s also dealing with the guilt of raising her kids while drunk. I’m glad Doyle wanted to write about Paula. I’m so happy to see her again.