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Irland, 1985. Kortroman om en god mands moralske samvittighed i et fattigt lokalsamfund, hvor et af de berygtede magdalenevaskerier ligger nær ved. For læsere med historisk interesse samt læsere af filosofiske historier.
Novella about a man who grew up the son of an unwed mother in 1940s Ireland. Mainly concerning his inner life as he goes about the daily grind of life, and how something in him changes after some chance encounters at the local nunnery (aka Magdalen Laundry). This one was not for me. The writing was fine, and the topic something I feel strongly about, but I didn’t enjoy this nor did it elicit any strong feelings in me. Found it vaguely tedious. ( )
This novella is wonderful in conjuring up small town life in Ireland - and family life too: though the time portrayed seems rather earlier than the 1980s in which the book is allegedly set. Bill Keegan is married, the father of 5 girls, and a successful coal merchant. He was also illegitimate, and extremely unusual in that his mother was able to keep him and bring him up, thanks to the generosity of her wealthy employer. In the same town there is a convent, a convent where 'common, unmarried girls' can go to have, and then relinquish their babies. And delivering there one day, Furlong discovers a young woman in distress, longing to see her baby. Will he act on what he sees? Furlong is a nuanced, rounded character, conflicted, and just a bit different from his fellows because of his upbringing, though he's also a largely happy family man, deeply proud of his daughters. This book explores the conflicted feelings he wrestles with one Christmas. It was written in response to the public outcry about the Magdalen laundries, where the Catholic church - and the state - had young pregnant girls incarcerated during 18th to 20th centuries. ( )
One could argue endlessly whether this is a novel, novella, or very long short story (such as The Dead) but I suppose it hardly matters -- a man, Bill Furlong, himself born to an unwed mother in a time when it really was a problem, had the good fortune that his mother's employer, a Protestant and a widow living just outside the small town on a small farm, did not send her off, but kept her and raised the boy responsibly, not as her own, but in a kindly way. He has made a success of his life running a coal business, but he has four daughters and times are hard; people need coal but often cannot keep up with their bills and he rarely cuts a person off entirely. On a snowy winter's day, just before Christmas he is making a delivery to the convent, which looms over the town in every way, spiritually and politically. Everyone (who pays attention) knows that the convent takes in girls 'in trouble', but no one has any idea what goes on inside. Everyone knows they do laundry, but again, no one knows the circumstances. Once their time there is finished, the girls are sent far away, no one actually witnesses anything, and nothing concrete is known but to a few (say a local doctor and such). No one says anything, out of fear of the power of the church. On this day Furlong discovers a young girl, barely clothed, hiding in the shed where he delivers the coal. Or is she hiding? Has she been put there? He must struggle with his conscience. I could cite various short stories Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants" -- that being a story all about what isn't being said -- and "The Dead" with its careful and exact prose as the narrator attempts to remain in control of his emotions only revealing the depth of his feelings through what he does and what he notices (what Keegan has him notice, of course). It is a meticulously crafted story as well as moving as Furlong comes to a decision about whether to act or not. The external consequences will be severe if he does act, but the price internally will be equally devastating. I'm currently also reading We Don't Know Ourselves -- a 'personal' history of modern Ireland and the two resonate. ****1/2 ( )
This novella is based on the true story of the Magdalene Laundries in Ireland. However it doesn't focus on that institution but the inner life of a local family man. He has a run in at the laundry that deeply affects him. He starts to see the hypocrisy of his good Catholic village everywhere, especially with Christmas approaching (nods to Dicken's A Christmas Carol are evident). The authors judgement is searing.
A beautiful book about what it means to be human...doing the right thing, even when that is more difficult than just looking the other way. It is short and bittersweet, and the ending is perfect. ( )
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'The Irish Republic is entitled to, and hereby claims, the allegiance of every Irishman and Irishwoman. The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts, cherishing all of the children of the nation equally.'
Excerpt from 'The Proclamation of the Irish Republic', 1916
Tilegnelse
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This story is dedicated to the women and children who suffered time in Ireland's mother and baby homes and Magdalen laundries.
And for Mary McCay, teacher.
Første ord
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In October there were yellow trees.
Citater
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As they carried on along and met more people Furlong did and did not know, he found himself asking was there any point in being alive without helping one another? Was it possible to carry on along through all the years, the decades, through an entire life, without once being brave enough to go up against what was there and yet call yourself a Christian, and face yourself in the mirror?
Always it was the same, Furlong thought; always they carried mechanically on without pauses, to the next job at hand.What would life be like, he wondered, if they were given time to think and reflect on things? (18%)
What most tormented him was not so much how she'd been left in the coal shed or the stance of the Mother Superior; the worst was how the girl had been handled while he was present and how he'd allowed that and had not asked about her baby -- the one thing she had asked him to do -- and how he had taken the money and left her there at the table with nothing before her and the breast milk leaking under the little cardigan and staining her blouse, and how he'd gone on, like a hypocrite, to Mass. (77%)
Why were the things that were closest so often the hardest to see? (87%)
Already he could feel a world of trouble waiting for him behind the next door, but the worst that could have happened was also already behind him; the thing not done, which could have been -- which he would have had to live with for the rest of his life. (95%)
'If you don't slow down, you'll meet yourself coming back, Eileen.' 'No more than yourself.' 'At least I've Sundays off.' 'You have them off but do you take them, is the question.'
'The years don't slow down any as they pass.'
He was touching forty but didn't feel himself to be getting anywhere or making any kind of headway and could not but sometimes wonder what the days were for.
But people said lots of things – and a good half of what was said could not be believed; never was there any shortage of idle minds or gossips about town.
'Not one thing,' she said. 'What have we to answer for?' 'Well, I didn't think there was anything but listening to you now, I'm not so sure.'
'If you want to get on in life, there's things you have to ignore, so you can keep on.'
The blow was cheap but it was the first he'd heard from her, in all their years together. Something small and hard gathered in his throat then which he tired but felt unable to voice or swallow. In the finish, he could neither swallow it down nor find any words to ease what had come between them.
It seemed both proper and at the same time deeply unfair that so much of life was left to chance.
it was a matter of learning how to manage and balance the give-and-take in a way that let you get on with others as well as your own. But as soon as the thought came to him, he knew the thought itself was privileged and wondered why he hadn't given the sweets and other things he'd been gifted at some of the houses to the less well-off he had met in others. Always, Christmas brought out the best and the worst in people.
Sidste ord
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Climbing the street towards his own front door with the barefooted girl and the box of shoes, his fear more than outweighed every other feeling but in his foolish heart he not only hoped but legitimately believed that they would manage.
Irland, 1985. Kortroman om en god mands moralske samvittighed i et fattigt lokalsamfund, hvor et af de berygtede magdalenevaskerier ligger nær ved. For læsere med historisk interesse samt læsere af filosofiske historier.
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