Bernard MacLaverty

Gerry is a retired architect and lecturer. His wife Stella used to be a teacher. Like the author himself, they are Irish but have lived for a long time in Glasgow. Their marriage is a long-lived one and, to all appearances, they are close and in love. Yet, their relationship is growing hollow, drained by Gerry's alcoholism and Stella's increasing exasperation at his constant criticism of her committed Catholic faith. Things come to a head during a brief stay in Amsterdam - the "Midwinter Break" of the title - where we learn that the marriage is also darkened by the shadow of the Irish troubles.

Reading Bernard MacLaverty is like watching a master craftsman at work. Consider the following description of a busy coffee-shop:

Coffee places were so noisy. This one sounded like they were making the Titanic rather than cups of coffee - the grinder going at maximum volume, screaming on and on - making enough coffee grounds for the whole of Europe while another guy was shooting steam through milk with supersonic hissing. A girl unpacked a dishwasher, clacking plates and saucers into piles. A third barista was banging the metal coffee-holder against the rim of the stainless steel bar to empty it - but doing it with such venom and volume that Gerry jumped at every strike. Talking was impossible. It was so bad he couldn't even hear if there was muzak or not. And still the grinder went on and on trying to reduce a vessel of brown-black beans to dust. Stella had to yell her order.

In a few lines of deceptively simple description, MacLaverty conjures up the scene in uncanny detail, while also giving us an inkling of his protagonists’ thoughts and inner turmoil.

The same keen sense of observation is brought to bear on the couple’s marriage and on the subjects of old age, sectarian violence, alcoholism and faith. These are the catalysts for the couple's drifting apart, even though there is much to show that at heart they do care for each other. As for the author’s attitude towards religion, I liked the fact that, despite no longer being a believer let alone a practising Catholic, he treats Stella’s faith with both understanding and delicacy.

This is, in many ways, a brilliant novel. But be prepared – because of its subjects, I found it also unremittingly bleak… (mere)

Absolutely terrific collection of short stories written by an under rated Irish author, who has written five other collections that I will definitely be seeking out. (He was also a Booker nominee for a novel at some point.) They were beautifully written, mostly in a staccato fashion, which seemed perfect for the topics covered over different time periods throughout the 20th century. They were all excellent, not a dud among them, but one story that stood out for me was entitled "The End of Days: Vienna 1918" and told the harrowing story of a couple living in Austria during the pandemic, when the pregnant wife, Edi, contracts the virus. Just breathtaking.… (mere)

Gerry is a retired architect and lecturer. His wife Stella used to be a teacher. Like the author himself, they are Irish but have lived for a long time in Glasgow. Their marriage is a long-lived one and, to all appearances, they are close and in love. Yet, their relationship is growing hollow, drained by Gerry's alcoholism and Stella's increasing exasperation at his constant criticism of her committed Catholic faith. Things come to a head during a brief stay in Amsterdam - the "Midwinter Break" of the title - where we learn that the marriage is also darkened by the shadow of the Irish troubles.

Reading Bernard MacLaverty is like watching a master craftsman at work. Consider the following description of a busy coffee-shop:

Coffee places were so noisy. This one sounded like they were making the Titanic rather than cups of coffee - the grinder going at maximum volume, screaming on and on - making enough coffee grounds for the whole of Europe while another guy was shooting steam through milk with supersonic hissing. A girl unpacked a dishwasher, clacking plates and saucers into piles. A third barista was banging the metal coffee-holder against the rim of the stainless steel bar to empty it - but doing it with such venom and volume that Gerry jumped at every strike. Talking was impossible. It was so bad he couldn't even hear if there was muzak or not. And still the grinder went on and on trying to reduce a vessel of brown-black beans to dust. Stella had to yell her order.

In a few lines of deceptively simple description, MacLaverty conjures up the scene in uncanny detail, while also giving us an inkling of his protagonists’ thoughts and inner turmoil.

The same keen sense of observation is brought to bear on the couple’s marriage and on the subjects of old age, sectarian violence, alcoholism and faith. These are the catalysts for the couple's drifting apart, even though there is much to show that at heart they do care for each other. As for the author’s attitude towards religion, I liked the fact that, despite no longer being a believer let alone a practising Catholic, he treats Stella’s faith with both understanding and delicacy.

This is, in many ways, a brilliant novel. But be prepared – because of its subjects, I found it also unremittingly bleak… (mere)