Reviews

SNOWFLAKE

BY LOUISE NEALON / ALLEN & UNWIN $29.99

This is a gem of a book. It’s an exhilarating, enchanting, witty, raucous, touching and humorous observation about coming of age in rural (and urban) Ireland. Debbie White, our narrator, is an eighteen year old who lives on a small County Kildare dairy farm with her uncle Billy and mother Maeve. Billy, an eccentric devotee of the classics, inhabits a ramshackle caravan on the property and, when not tending the cows, whiles away his time on its roof watching the stars. Billy likes to drink but as Debbie remarks “it is socially acceptable to be an alcoholic …. as long as you don’t get treatment for it”. Maeve, who is carrying on an affair with the young farm hand, sleeps too much, collects shells, records her dreams and occasionally dances naked amongst nettles to benefit from their healing powers. Urged by Barry, Debbie is accepted to study English at Trinity College, Dublin, and daily swaps early mornings as a milk maid for city chic and the pretentious trials, and joys, of academia. Shy, nervous, disorganised and somewhat naïve, Debbie is shunned by her fellow students with the exception of the outgoing and confident Xanthe, who takes Debbie under her wing helping her to negotiate the tribulations of Fresher’s Week and university life both in and out of College. On the farm, Billy’s drinking gets worse, Maeve has an accident as her mental state deteriorates while she derives comfort and contentment from her dreams . Despite all these impending perils plus the social and academic frustrations of Trinity, Debbie discovers, as she grows up, that even the oddest of families are havens of safety as she clings to the fierce family bonds which hold them all together. The Trinity College setting and exploration of maturation harps back to Sally Rooney’s Normal People, but Debbie’s is an original and distinctive voice with every sentence a delight to read. This is Nealon’s debut novel – reputedly sold last year for a “six figure sum”. Given the book’s ending, hopefully a sequel is in the offing. – Reviewed by John Hagan

SHE COME BY IT NATURAL

BY SARAH SMARCH / ONE PUBLISHING $22.99

Dolly Parton and Sarah Smarsh began life as two of a kind - both born in poverty on struggling family farms in the American backblocks. Smarsh now scratches out a living in journalism, while Parton is a towering presence in country music and presiding over a multi-million dollar business empire. On the journey, Parton has broken ground “for female artists, for poor girls with dreams, for women who would like to be bosses without hiding their breasts”. Smarsh examines the genesis of some of Parton’s hit songs such as ‘Jolene’ (a real life female bank teller

who used to flirt with her husband Carl while the pair came to town do business), and ‘Coat of Many Colors’, based on Parton’s school apparel sewn together by her mother from pieces of burlap sack. Since telling her classmates in 1964 that she planned to go to Nashville and become a star, the ‘dumb blonde’ has come a long way. She has penned over 3000 songs, released 43 solo albums (with sales of 100 million), become a member of the Songwriters Hall of Fame, initiated a ‘Dollywood’ theme park, established a Library literacy programme and built a vast real estate empire. Smarsh traces Parton’s 50 year professional career during which she mixed with all the luminaries of country music including Porter Wagoner, Kenny Rogers and Willie Nelson. In this warm, sharp and insightful book, Smarsh pays tribute to Parton, revealing another side of the buxom, hair-piled-high, country singer whose songs of unrequited love, struggling mothers, deadbeat boyfriends and rural life have elevated her to the status of “universally beloved icon” and a champion for feminism. – Reviewed by John Hagan

BLACKFACE

BY AYANNA THOMPSON / BOOMSBURY $19.99

“Look for the golly, the golly on the jar”. Such, as I recall, was the UK jingle for Robertson’s marmalade (Silver Shred and Golden Shred) during the late 1960s and early 1970s. We all collected paper tokens which were then exchanged for a metal golly pin badge. No racial prejudice was either intended or taken. Ah - innocent days. How times have changed. The launching pad for this slim publication was Thompson’s horror on discovering that a white pupil in her son’s primary school ‘blacked up’ as Martin Luther King Jr., in order to pay homage to his hero. Motivated by this incident Thompson tracks the application of black makeup by white people from the medieval mystery play cycles of York and Coventry, through Shakespearean drama, and on to the present day. She explores the popularity of minstrel shows (including the BBC ‘s popular ‘Black and White Minstrels’), and investigates why eminent actors such as Sir Laurence Olivier and Anthony Hopkins donned black make up to play Othello, while contrasting the rather uneven accomplishments of black actors taking on whiteface parts. Amongst those Thompson singles out for examination and criticism are fashion designers Gucci and Moncler, and current Canadian Premier, Justin Trudeau’s student flirtation with blackface and plus his blacking-up for an ‘Arabian Nights’ school fundraiser in 2001. Blackface is a somewhat unbalanced and at times slanted commentary, which nonetheless provides illuminating insights about the rise of the ‘black lives matter’ as Thompson follows the “filthy and vile thread” linking the initial stage and screen performances of blackness, with the death of George Floyd under the knee of a Minneapolis police officer. – Reviewed by John Hagan

ACTRESS

BY ANNE ENRIGHT / W.W. NORTON COMPANY $19.99 AVAILABLE IN AUDIO BOOK, NARRATED BY ANNE ENRIGHT

(Longlisted for the 2020 Women’s Prize for Fiction) Norah, the narrator, is a successful novelist and is now the age her mother was when she died. She sets out to tell the backstory of her mother’s life from her point of view and to unravel some of the remaining mysteries of her life. Her mother, Katherine O’Dell had some success in the 1940s in the United States but returned to Dublin with her baby daughter. As a child, Norah had to share her mother with the theatre, her audience, friends and theatre colleagues. As an adult Norah lost her mother to the mother’s worsening mental instability, aided by the ageing process, alcoholism and inability to cope with the fading of her star status.

Norah recognises her mother as a fake - Katherine O’Dell was not real. She was fictional in more ways than one. She was English born, not Irish. The apostrophe in her name was adopted and she sported bottle-red hair. Katherine’s life is full of mystery to which she provided no hint to assist resolving them: who was Norah’s father? Why did Katherine return to Ireland as an unmarried mother? Why did she shoot the film maker? This irrational, violent act resulted in her institutionalisation and rapid descent into insanity, which was as swift as the fading of her star status which was swept away by the sexism and ageism of the theatre world. Norah describes the lifestyle of theatre people, the relationships and goings-on behind the scenes and provides character analyses of Dublin’s industry operatives in the 1970s. It is a book about a mother-daughter relationship as the daughter grows and develops. However, the book is also about a coming-of-age in 1970s Dublin, negotiating the quickly evolving social mores and behaviours and dealing with sexual violence, gender, sexual orientation, mental illness and the nature of relationships. Norah examines another important relationship to her as she provides an insight into her own marital relationship - a relationship based on realism and truth and the acceptance by the partners of the inevitability of ageing and the maturing of the relationship. Being a theatre type, I loved the description. Dublin born Enright has previously written about dysfunctional families. In her novels, Enright depicts difficult mothers. She writes in an economical way which often leaves the reader reading between the lines and interpreting pithy observations. She adopts a ‘stream of consciousness’ style. The story line is not linear and jumps not only timelines but also jumps topics which requires concentration and mental agility. It is not light reading. However, it is a good read. I felt the book lost the plot towards the end and there were many loose ends left hanging. Perhaps this was Enright’s intent. – Reviewed by Speranza

DEATH OF A LADIES’ MAN (2021)

DIRECTED BY MATTHEW BISSONNETTE

I did not choose to see this film because of the two Irish heart throbs. No! I wanted to see this film because the accompanying music was Leonard Cohen. The film name alone screamed Cohen! A Canadian-Irish collaboration, the main part of the movie is set in Cohen’s Montreal and his music provides the backdrop to the more bizarre scenes. But it is all fun! An ageing English and poetry professor, Samuel O’Shea (Gabriel Byrne) who is a womanising alcoholic and whose second marriage is falling apart, is diagnosed with a stage 4, inoperable brain tumour. The result is hallucinations – hilarious and weird! Cue: Cohen’s music. Time is running out fast and what about his legacy? That book he never wrote? Of which he is reminded by the appearance of his long dead, chain smoking, adored father (Brian Gleeson). Life goes on. In addition to his diagnosis he has to deal with his academic position, the break-up of his second marriage, the looming marriage of his still loved first wife, and the coming of age of his adored children – sexuality issues and drug addiction. The film is geared to a Canadian audience with some low-key jokes about the state of Canadian literature and the claim that the Canadian National Anthem is Cohen’s ‘Bird on a Wire’. When Sam retires to the wilds of Ireland to write his long-planned novel and where he meets yet another love interest, the film changes gear and mood. I am unsure if this is a contrivance to bring in the Irish collaboration. However, interviews with the ghost of his father provides the history of the family and the rationale for some of the life choices made by Sam. It could be a bleak film but Sam’s ability to retain his sense of humour and his self-deprecation saves the film from becoming maudlin. The interjection of musical interludes into what is essentially a drama, may be off-putting for some and towards the end it is hard to decipher hallucination for reality. Although the music helps. In summary, a film full of Cohen songs, sprinkled with humour and driven through with pathos. And great casting. Karelle Tremblay and Jessica Paré are excellent. Byrne and Gleeson are perfect foils for each other. – Reviewed by Speranza

MEAT

DIRECTED BY RENATO FABRETTI / FREMANTLE THEATRE CO

Dublin playwright Gillian Greer set her new play, Meat, in a restaurant where the two protagonists eat, drink and fight – and food, wine glasses and bottles go flying. As Fremantle Theatre Company director Renato Fabretti says: “All the fun stuff in life – and theatre - is dangerous!” But it wasn’t until he met Gillian on Zoom, that he found out that her partner is a chef and she has an acute understanding of the male-dominated, hierarchal nature of a commercial kitchen and how a smart business woman needs to rely on a “noisy, rockstar chef” for a restaurant’s success. Meat is the story of Maxine and Ronan, an ex-couple who left the bogs of Ireland for the bright lights of Dublin. Maxine is a now a writer about to publish her memoir. Ronan is a hotshot “happy to offend” chef with his own new concept restaurant. Maxine is visiting her ex-boyfriend to tell him she will be including a particularly disturbing experience in their relationship in her memoir. She wants to explain to the brash and explosive Ronan why she needs to record the abuse and why she needs him to acknowledge it. Acting as a buffer between the two is the capable, straight-forward restaurant co-owner and manager Jo. She is the one who gets straight to the heart of the matter; why is Maxine bringing up this trauma now? Are her memoires tainted by the need to add drama in her memoir? As old wounds and memories are shaken up, it becomes an explosive situation and wine and food go flying along with tempers and truth. Fremantle Theatre Company staged the international premiere of Meat, after its brief run in London in February last year. Gillian’s debut play Petals was nominated for the Irish Times Theatre Award for Best New Play in 2015, and has since had plays performed in The Abbey in Dublin, The Traverse in Edinburgh and many London fringe venues. She was recently appointed literary manager of The Soho Theatre in London. Meat was a finalist in Theatre503’s International Playwriting Award in 2018, and it opened in the London fringe venue early last year before being quickly shut down by the COVID pandemic. Renato Fabretti said: “Gillian was over the moon when we asked her permission to stage it in Perth. “It is a play that speaks to the here and now, and in these quickly changing times may be dated, even in two years’ time.” Renato made the decision straight away that the play should remain in its Dublin setting. “If it was a museum piece, I would have adapted the hell out of it,” he said. “But it’s a new play and Gillian’s first international production and it deserved to be honoured for its lyricism and poetry. Her writing is so true and honest. I don’t know better storytellers than the Irish. Renato’s cast were all Australian-born with Aussie accents, but their Irish accents were utterly convincing. Declan Brown as the boisterous chef Ronan kept his country brogue. Renato described his accent as “rough, dirty and robust”. As Maxine, Georgia Wilkinson-Derums refined her accent to one who had lived in London and Dublin since leaving home. As Jo, Ally Harris adopted a city girl’s flirtatious trill. In a play that required the actors to eat, drink, throw food and smash glasses, Renato created, and nightly made his own menu that the actors ccould tolerate – handmade pasta, and carefully shaped and tinted cheese in the shape and shade of freshly shucked oysters – and used expensive, delicate wine glasses tested to make sure they shatter instantly and won’t bounce and fly into the audience. At the core of Gillian’s smart, funny and unsettling work, is an abiding question: how do we remember trauma, and do we remember it accurately? It deals with this complex issue with empathy and humour and those clear-cut lines that we’ve all started to draw as part of #metoo accusations, begin to blur. – Reviewed by Sarah McNeill ☘