Apparently Australians have a book buying frenzy in the period before Christmas, generating 70% of annual bookshop sales from October. Unsurprisingly the Booker Prize winner is announced with perfect commercial timing. But, your literary curmudgeon is on the job, albeit a tad late with this short review of last year’s winning book.
Paul Lynch’s dark and harrowing tale is set in modern day Ireland, where its totalitarian government is hounding citizens, with a new secret police force cracking down on perceived dissidents. The ‘heroine’ Eilish, mother of four and their missing father, puts up a valiant resistance, in this gloomy story of her travails and shrinking universe of rapidly degrading daily life.
The newish fashion for writing without quotation marks and longish paragraphs (or short chapters?) does create an atmospheric stream of consciousness, overlapping or eliding with events in the outside world. And effectively creates an over-arching mood of menace and gradually spiralling desperation, but (mini spoiler alert!) there is no clear hint of final redemption or salvation to uplift us suffering punters.
Of course the story is probably intended as an Orwellian (oh yeah!) reflection on the real dangers of creeping authoritarianism in our increasingly fragile and violated democratic societies. Where, as the vulgar Irish saying goes, shite happens. If you decide to go for it, maybe just read it on sunny days to help your mood.
Booker Prize winners over the years have been of very variable quality in my humble opinion, and the whole subject of literary prizes generally is ripe for critical reflection.
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