What do you think?
Rate this book
That They May Face the Rising Sun
Widely considered to be the finest Irish writer of fiction at work today, John McGahern gives us a new novel that, with insight, humor, and deep sympathy, brings to vivid life the world and the people of a contemporary Irish village.
It is a village flirting with the more sophisticated trappings of modernity but steeped in the traditions of its unforgettable inhabitants and their lives. There are the Ruttledges, who came from London in search of a different life on the edge of the village lake; John Quinn, who will stop at nothing to ensure a flow of women through his life; Jimmy Joe McKiernan, head of the local IRA as well as town auctioneer and undertaker; the gentle Jamesie and his wife, Mary, who have never left the lake and who know about everything that ever stirred or moved there; Patrick Ryan, the builder who never quite finishes what he starts; Bill Evans, the farmhand whose orphaned childhood was marked with state-sanctioned cruelties and whose adulthood is marked by the scars; and the wealthiest man in town, known as the Shah.
A year in the lives of these and other characters unfolds through the richly observed rituals of work and play, of religious observance and annual festivals, and the details of the changing seasons, of the cycles of birth and death. With deceptive simplicity and eloquence, the author reveals the fundamental workings of human nature as it encounters the extraordinary trials and pleasures, terrors and beauty, of ordinary life.
By the Lake is John McGahern’s most ambitious, generous, and superbly realized novel yet.
(above copied from amazon.com)
It is a village flirting with the more sophisticated trappings of modernity but steeped in the traditions of its unforgettable inhabitants and their lives. There are the Ruttledges, who came from London in search of a different life on the edge of the village lake; John Quinn, who will stop at nothing to ensure a flow of women through his life; Jimmy Joe McKiernan, head of the local IRA as well as town auctioneer and undertaker; the gentle Jamesie and his wife, Mary, who have never left the lake and who know about everything that ever stirred or moved there; Patrick Ryan, the builder who never quite finishes what he starts; Bill Evans, the farmhand whose orphaned childhood was marked with state-sanctioned cruelties and whose adulthood is marked by the scars; and the wealthiest man in town, known as the Shah.
A year in the lives of these and other characters unfolds through the richly observed rituals of work and play, of religious observance and annual festivals, and the details of the changing seasons, of the cycles of birth and death. With deceptive simplicity and eloquence, the author reveals the fundamental workings of human nature as it encounters the extraordinary trials and pleasures, terrors and beauty, of ordinary life.
By the Lake is John McGahern’s most ambitious, generous, and superbly realized novel yet.
(above copied from amazon.com)
304 pages, Paperback
First published December 15, 2001
About the author
John McGahern
57 books267 followersMcGahern began his career as a schoolteacher at Scoil Eoin Báiste (Belgrove) primary school in Clontarf, Ireland, where, for a period, he taught the eminent academic Declan Kiberd before turning to writing full-time. McGahern's second novel 'The Dark' was banned in Ireland for its alleged pornographic content and implied clerical sexual abuse. In the controversy over this he was forced to resign his teaching post. He subsequently moved to England where he worked in a variety of jobs before returning to Ireland to live and work on a small farm in Fenagh in County Leitrim, located halfway between Ballinamore and Mohill. His third novel 'Amongst Women' was shortlisted for the 1990 Man Booker Prize.
He died from cancer in Dublin on March 30, 2006.
He died from cancer in Dublin on March 30, 2006.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 285 reviews
May 16, 2016
John McGahern's Novel "That they may face the rising sun" is the first Novel I have ever read where very little happens and yet everything that does happen is magnified by McGaheran’s’ amazing art of storytelling and the vivid images he creates of Irish rural life.
Joe and Kate Rutledge have come to Ireland from London in search of a different life. In passages of beauty and truth the drama of a year in their lives and those of the memorable characters that move around them unfolds through the actions, the rituals of work religious observances and play.
I loved the relaxed pace of this novel and the wonderful characters which include James and Mary Murphy who rarely travel from their local area; John Quinn, a notorious womaniser; Kate's uncle The Shah; Bill Evans, a farmer and James Murphy's brother who works at a Ford plant in England. The characters are so realistic that I was able to identify with characters I had encountered throughout the 80s in rural Ireland.
Throughout the novel I was trying to place what year the story takes place as some parts hints at the 50s/60s and others the late 80s(which was where I would put it) and I think readers will make it fit the timeframe that suits them .
The book is an extremely calming and relaxing read. It takes an honest look at Irish life in a small rural community and how local news and gossip played a huge part in their daily lives. It also deals with immigration and the struggles people have in everyday life and most importantly the beauty of the simple life.
I especially loved the mood of the 80s Ireland and vivid descriptions of the changing of the seasons in the countryside. John McGahern really knows how to set a scene.
I REALLY enjoyed this book and found it a nostalgic read. A word of warning! this as I have stated earlier is not a plot driven novel and its slow pace will not suit every reader.
My only criticism would be that characters seemed to consume whiskey far more than tea and this was just a tad unrealistic in the novel!
Joe and Kate Rutledge have come to Ireland from London in search of a different life. In passages of beauty and truth the drama of a year in their lives and those of the memorable characters that move around them unfolds through the actions, the rituals of work religious observances and play.
I loved the relaxed pace of this novel and the wonderful characters which include James and Mary Murphy who rarely travel from their local area; John Quinn, a notorious womaniser; Kate's uncle The Shah; Bill Evans, a farmer and James Murphy's brother who works at a Ford plant in England. The characters are so realistic that I was able to identify with characters I had encountered throughout the 80s in rural Ireland.
Throughout the novel I was trying to place what year the story takes place as some parts hints at the 50s/60s and others the late 80s(which was where I would put it) and I think readers will make it fit the timeframe that suits them .
The book is an extremely calming and relaxing read. It takes an honest look at Irish life in a small rural community and how local news and gossip played a huge part in their daily lives. It also deals with immigration and the struggles people have in everyday life and most importantly the beauty of the simple life.
I especially loved the mood of the 80s Ireland and vivid descriptions of the changing of the seasons in the countryside. John McGahern really knows how to set a scene.
I REALLY enjoyed this book and found it a nostalgic read. A word of warning! this as I have stated earlier is not a plot driven novel and its slow pace will not suit every reader.
My only criticism would be that characters seemed to consume whiskey far more than tea and this was just a tad unrealistic in the novel!
January 21, 2024
I don't know....On the one hand, I'm a little disappointed because it was not as dark as his other works, but on the other hand, I highly enjoyed the leisurely year I spent by the lake in the Irish countryside.
By the Lake, or That They May Face The Rising Sun, (known by both titles, although I think By The Lake is the "American" title, and seeing as I found it in an American bookstore that's what I got) is a very character driven novel. We follow Rutledge and his lovely wife Kate as they make a life for them selfs on a farm in the Ireland of Rutledges' childhood. The neighbors come and go in this tight-knit community. Some are more likable than others. We piece together people's lives through minor interactions with our hosts, the Rutledges. And that's it. That's all there is to it. So if that doesn't sound appealing to you then this one isn't for you.
I didn't love it and I didn't hate it. It was well written and the characters were very developed, it was just kinda boring.
By the Lake, or That They May Face The Rising Sun, (known by both titles, although I think By The Lake is the "American" title, and seeing as I found it in an American bookstore that's what I got) is a very character driven novel. We follow Rutledge and his lovely wife Kate as they make a life for them selfs on a farm in the Ireland of Rutledges' childhood. The neighbors come and go in this tight-knit community. Some are more likable than others. We piece together people's lives through minor interactions with our hosts, the Rutledges. And that's it. That's all there is to it. So if that doesn't sound appealing to you then this one isn't for you.
I didn't love it and I didn't hate it. It was well written and the characters were very developed, it was just kinda boring.
April 1, 2020
This was my first read of John McGahern but it was his final novel. Some reviewers offered not quite a criticism in saying that this last one was not dark like his others. I wouldn't know about that. The author himself said he wanted to write about ordinary lives. Yet there was nothing ordinary in this book.
The main character is Ruttledge (I don't think his first name is ever given). He lives on a farm homestead by the lake in contemporary Ireland with his wife, Kate. Neighbors (plenty of them) visit frequently, or are in turn visited by them. The story (not quite what you would call a plot) is largely dialogue when it is not traditional Irish storytelling. And yet, characters are developed fully. McGahern might tell you what a character is wearing but rarely does he give a physical description. Oh, he might tell you that the Shah is stout, but we don't know the size of Ruttledge, we don't know the color of Kate's hair. Still, I think I know how Jamesie must redden when he cheers, and I see the twinkle in his wife Mary's eyes when she playfully admonishes him.
The Ruttledges had been in London, had real office jobs, both of them, yet nothing is said as to why they left and came back to a quiet Irish farm. They are childless (unspoken) and we know something must have happened. But the author must not have felt it was any of our business. Or as one character advises early: Ask why not but never why.
Too, there were those little hints of foreboding that any seasoned reader will pick up, some action or symbol that makes you think something dire is about to happen. Like when the cat kills a leveret and deposits it on the neck of a sleeping Kate. Stuff like that doesn't just happen - isn't just written - for no reason. Right? But if nothing bad happens, and the reader can't stop thinking about it, maybe it wasn't a warning, maybe the author meant something that happened before that he doesn't think is any of our business.
Ordinary, the author said. Perhaps he meant this book would have no war (though the Irish situation touches the story periodically), no murder (indeed, the only death is mostly expected, and honored), no hidden family abuse (although there is John Quinn who takes the biblical mandate that It is not good for man to be alone very literally).
These Irish characters drink - there are rituals to be respected - but, mostly, they know when to quit. And when they don't, no one is harmed.
The Ruttledges and Jamesie and Mary seemed happy couples, refreshingly so. Here's a bit of that dialogue and storytelling I mentioned, this about how the Ruttledges first got together (I'll add the speakers for you):
(Kate): "It was November, it was raining. We went to the Old Wine Shades, a wine bar near the river, not far from the office. We had a bottle of red wine--I hardly ever took a drink then--with a plate of white cheddar and crackers."
(Jamesie): "I don't know how you can drink that red wine. It tastes like pure poison. Yer man here was trying to get behind the fence."
(Kate): "I think I was doing the same, Jamesie."
And this, after that one death occurs and Ruttledge and Jamesie wax philosophical:
(Jamesie): "Do you think is there an afterlife?"
(Ruttledge): "No. I don't believe there is but I have no way of knowing."
. . .
(Jamesie): "I've been thinking about it a lot since Johnny went."
(Ruttledge): "What do you think?"
(Jamesie): "I think if there's a hell and heaven that one or the other or both of the places are going to be vastly overcrowded."
(Ruttledge): "I suspect hell and heaven and purgatory--even eternity--all come from our experience of life and may have nothing to do with anything else once we cross to the other side."
And later, near book's end:
(Jamesie): "I may not have travelled far but I know the whole world."
(Ruttledge): "You do know the whole world . . . and you have been my sweet guide."
McGahern died only a few years after writing this. I look forward now to going back and reading his earlier work, dark though it may be. It's not too late for my own sweet guide,
The main character is Ruttledge (I don't think his first name is ever given). He lives on a farm homestead by the lake in contemporary Ireland with his wife, Kate. Neighbors (plenty of them) visit frequently, or are in turn visited by them. The story (not quite what you would call a plot) is largely dialogue when it is not traditional Irish storytelling. And yet, characters are developed fully. McGahern might tell you what a character is wearing but rarely does he give a physical description. Oh, he might tell you that the Shah is stout, but we don't know the size of Ruttledge, we don't know the color of Kate's hair. Still, I think I know how Jamesie must redden when he cheers, and I see the twinkle in his wife Mary's eyes when she playfully admonishes him.
The Ruttledges had been in London, had real office jobs, both of them, yet nothing is said as to why they left and came back to a quiet Irish farm. They are childless (unspoken) and we know something must have happened. But the author must not have felt it was any of our business. Or as one character advises early: Ask why not but never why.
Too, there were those little hints of foreboding that any seasoned reader will pick up, some action or symbol that makes you think something dire is about to happen. Like when the cat kills a leveret and deposits it on the neck of a sleeping Kate. Stuff like that doesn't just happen - isn't just written - for no reason. Right? But if nothing bad happens, and the reader can't stop thinking about it, maybe it wasn't a warning, maybe the author meant something that happened before that he doesn't think is any of our business.
Ordinary, the author said. Perhaps he meant this book would have no war (though the Irish situation touches the story periodically), no murder (indeed, the only death is mostly expected, and honored), no hidden family abuse (although there is John Quinn who takes the biblical mandate that It is not good for man to be alone very literally).
These Irish characters drink - there are rituals to be respected - but, mostly, they know when to quit. And when they don't, no one is harmed.
The Ruttledges and Jamesie and Mary seemed happy couples, refreshingly so. Here's a bit of that dialogue and storytelling I mentioned, this about how the Ruttledges first got together (I'll add the speakers for you):
(Kate): "It was November, it was raining. We went to the Old Wine Shades, a wine bar near the river, not far from the office. We had a bottle of red wine--I hardly ever took a drink then--with a plate of white cheddar and crackers."
(Jamesie): "I don't know how you can drink that red wine. It tastes like pure poison. Yer man here was trying to get behind the fence."
(Kate): "I think I was doing the same, Jamesie."
And this, after that one death occurs and Ruttledge and Jamesie wax philosophical:
(Jamesie): "Do you think is there an afterlife?"
(Ruttledge): "No. I don't believe there is but I have no way of knowing."
. . .
(Jamesie): "I've been thinking about it a lot since Johnny went."
(Ruttledge): "What do you think?"
(Jamesie): "I think if there's a hell and heaven that one or the other or both of the places are going to be vastly overcrowded."
(Ruttledge): "I suspect hell and heaven and purgatory--even eternity--all come from our experience of life and may have nothing to do with anything else once we cross to the other side."
And later, near book's end:
(Jamesie): "I may not have travelled far but I know the whole world."
(Ruttledge): "You do know the whole world . . . and you have been my sweet guide."
McGahern died only a few years after writing this. I look forward now to going back and reading his earlier work, dark though it may be. It's not too late for my own sweet guide,
December 10, 2020
I read this novel about 17 years ago. I had already read "The Barracks" and so appreciated Mr. McGahern's writing. I don't have much of a review because I read this book so long ago but when I wrote down the date of when I finished the book I made a note..."very good but a bit long but that's how a slice of life is".
This novel was published as "By the Lake" in the US by Knopf. Which is interesting...
Also I saved in the book a postcard inviting me to a reading and reception by John McGahern at DePaul University in Chicago on Thursday, October 11, 2001. On the front of the postcard was a painting...appears to be a watercolor of a brass coffee mug on a table.
This novel was published as "By the Lake" in the US by Knopf. Which is interesting...
Also I saved in the book a postcard inviting me to a reading and reception by John McGahern at DePaul University in Chicago on Thursday, October 11, 2001. On the front of the postcard was a painting...appears to be a watercolor of a brass coffee mug on a table.
August 31, 2018
ينقل لنا جون ماكغرين في هذه الرواية التفاصيل اليومية لحياة الناس في ريف ايرلندا حيث تهاجم الهجرة أسلوب الحياة البسيط ذاك و تزحف الحداثة إلى كل ركن من أركان إيرلندا.
في تلك البقعة النائية حيث لا شيء يتغير سوى تعاقب الفصول و لا قيمة للوقت الذي عاصر أصحابه عدة أزمنة، نجد نوعا من الفسيفساء الإنسانية لشخصيات صيغت ملامحها على مهل طوال الرواية… إنها سعي حثيث للإحتفاظ بما بقي من تلك الحياة الريفية الإيرلندية و محاولة جادة لتثبيت ملامح الهوية المحلية بعيدا عن الصراعات السياسية و الدينية.
تمت
31/08/2018
June 29, 2017
This is a beautiful novel about Joe Rutledge, a native of Ireland, who returns in middle age to the country of his birth, bringing his wife, Kate. A lakeside house is purchased for Joe by his well-to-do uncle, fondly known as "the Shah." McGahern follows the rhythms of the couple's life on their small, lovingly tended farm over the course of a year that sees many changes. The Rutledges' close friendship with their neighbours, the Murphys, is described with considerable nuance, and a range of other distinctive "characters" make their entrances and exits. All are graciously tolerated by the members of the community by the lake.
One quibble: I had some trouble figuring out the time-period in which the novel is set. Was it the 1970s or early 1980s? It was hard to tell. So much of the farming equipment seemed to be from an earlier time. (However, that may have been just a reflection of Joe's predilection for doing things in the old way, as they were done when he was a child.) There was also mention, towards the end of the book, of telephone service coming to the lake--which caused me a little further confusion.
I loved McGahern's lyrical descriptions of the natural world--which doesn't mean he glosses over its harshness. Likewise: human nature. He reveals it with subtlety, but does not sacrifice the truth. The ugly actions of some--like John Quinn, who badly uses women--are plainly presented.
This is a rich piece of character-driven fiction, in which the rural setting is as much a character as anyone. I can see myself wanting to return to this book. There is just so much here to appreciate.
Many thanks to my Goodreads friend, Mary Lou, for bringing this lovely book to my attention!
One quibble: I had some trouble figuring out the time-period in which the novel is set. Was it the 1970s or early 1980s? It was hard to tell. So much of the farming equipment seemed to be from an earlier time. (However, that may have been just a reflection of Joe's predilection for doing things in the old way, as they were done when he was a child.) There was also mention, towards the end of the book, of telephone service coming to the lake--which caused me a little further confusion.
I loved McGahern's lyrical descriptions of the natural world--which doesn't mean he glosses over its harshness. Likewise: human nature. He reveals it with subtlety, but does not sacrifice the truth. The ugly actions of some--like John Quinn, who badly uses women--are plainly presented.
This is a rich piece of character-driven fiction, in which the rural setting is as much a character as anyone. I can see myself wanting to return to this book. There is just so much here to appreciate.
Many thanks to my Goodreads friend, Mary Lou, for bringing this lovely book to my attention!
November 17, 2008
I think it's best to think of That They May Face the Rising Sun less as a novel without a plot and more as a fictionalised anthropological study of rural Ireland. It's a lucid, serene rendering of the kind of place where I grew up: one governed by the rhythms of the landscape and circumscribed by social ritual and interdependence, by the striving towards modernity clashing with the old, old ways of things. McGahern's prose style is superb, sentences turning on the most precise and illuminating of details, and his ability to capture the rhythms of rural Irish Midlands speech is impressive. Every page brought me some new moment of recognition, new ways of seeing my home and myself. A wonderful, extended meditation in prose.
December 17, 2007
Loved it! Loved it! Thanks Ellen for the recommendation. This book seems to have a simple plot until you think about the emotionally charged encounters of the characters involved. A small community lives around a lake and their everyday comings and goings are chronicled by the author. The pace is slow. The members of the community are aware of the larger politics and larger world but they only serve as something to discuss. They really don't impinge on the closeknit relationships of these people. Yet, here is the interesting part. They are so careful and polite with one another--do they really reach depths of emotional connection? The answer is "yes". I find that idea appealing--that reticence and thoughtfulness are hallmarks of a better communication. The setting descriptions took my senses into high gear. The beauty of Ireland is described eloquently--even down to objects which makes you look at everything in a fresh way. As the daughter of Irish parents, I loved reading all the familiar Irish turns of phrase that are so familiar to me. I loved the Ruttledges--so quietly sensitive and helpful and choosing this life--I wanted to know them--I wanted to be like them! Favorite scene--will sound bizarre--was the preparation for the wake in the home--what a powerful description. Just a wonderful read!
Want to read
June 29, 2009I really wish I could enjoy this book, but it's driving me crazy. The slow pace, the stupid characters (by which I don't mean that the characters are badly done but that stupidity is part of their nature), the constant use of the passive voice, the sort of skaz (I don't know if I'm using this term correctly) in the narrative... it all combines to make an extremely annoying book.
I see exactly what McGahern's doing (or I think I see it) and kudos to him, because it's brilliant. It is a continuous stream of anecdotes, an exercise in the minutiae of characterisation and plot. It describes a year in the life of Joe and Kate Ruttledge and their neighbours. We meet the spine-chillingly horrid John Quinn, we hear the sad tale of Johnny, we learn about Bill Evans' unhappy childhood... it's all fascinating and beautiful, in its small, humble way. The prose mimics the slowness of life in a place where little happens, but everything that happens is news. It's a beautiful depiction of a place and an era, though it's not immediately clear to what era it belongs.
But I'm too impatient, and I can't like it. I'm constantly pressed for time at the moment, and I am unable to slip into the contemplative, relaxed state that I need to read this book. I thrive on tension, adrenaline, and that is something that has nothing to do with this wonderful book. I may finish it... one day.
I see exactly what McGahern's doing (or I think I see it) and kudos to him, because it's brilliant. It is a continuous stream of anecdotes, an exercise in the minutiae of characterisation and plot. It describes a year in the life of Joe and Kate Ruttledge and their neighbours. We meet the spine-chillingly horrid John Quinn, we hear the sad tale of Johnny, we learn about Bill Evans' unhappy childhood... it's all fascinating and beautiful, in its small, humble way. The prose mimics the slowness of life in a place where little happens, but everything that happens is news. It's a beautiful depiction of a place and an era, though it's not immediately clear to what era it belongs.
But I'm too impatient, and I can't like it. I'm constantly pressed for time at the moment, and I am unable to slip into the contemplative, relaxed state that I need to read this book. I thrive on tension, adrenaline, and that is something that has nothing to do with this wonderful book. I may finish it... one day.
December 13, 2017
(3.5)
"Mary stood mutely gazing on her son and his wife as if in wonderment how so much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections: it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole those scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed? There is only flesh."
"Mary stood mutely gazing on her son and his wife as if in wonderment how so much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections: it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole those scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed? There is only flesh."
September 1, 2009
So this was, in effect, McGahern's swan song, and perhaps it was the wrong novel to start with. His earlier, darker, sometimes-banned stuff gave him his name, but this is not angry or black. There's a kind of complexly layered but mostly tender account of rural Ireland given. Mam said it's the work of a dying man coming to terms with his life and country (he had cancer) and that makes a lot of sense.
Very accessible and written in clear, simple, descriptive prose. It tells the story of an Irish couple who return home from England to farm a small piece of land on a lake in a northern bordered county. I don't think it names the county.
As with the short stories, there's aspects of Irish life described here so cleanly and honestly I feel like something's being laid out that I've never had told to me before, but is totally recognisable and true. The conversations are natural and beautiful and uniquely Irish.
A year passes on a farm. Farm things happen. Neighbours come and go. A shed gets built. The hay is brought in. Calfing. Why in God's name did I find this so comforting?
The neighbours go on a trip to dublin and are nervous as they haven't spent a night away from home in seventeen years. I think this pushing it a bit until I realise my own granny is probably edging on that number, if not past it.
It begins with a birth and it ends with a funeral. It made me think a lot about the life I want, and happiness, and family, and community. The soil.
Very accessible and written in clear, simple, descriptive prose. It tells the story of an Irish couple who return home from England to farm a small piece of land on a lake in a northern bordered county. I don't think it names the county.
As with the short stories, there's aspects of Irish life described here so cleanly and honestly I feel like something's being laid out that I've never had told to me before, but is totally recognisable and true. The conversations are natural and beautiful and uniquely Irish.
A year passes on a farm. Farm things happen. Neighbours come and go. A shed gets built. The hay is brought in. Calfing. Why in God's name did I find this so comforting?
The neighbours go on a trip to dublin and are nervous as they haven't spent a night away from home in seventeen years. I think this pushing it a bit until I realise my own granny is probably edging on that number, if not past it.
It begins with a birth and it ends with a funeral. It made me think a lot about the life I want, and happiness, and family, and community. The soil.
May 27, 2016
That They May Face the Rising Sun. This was a most delightful read. Not a story with a plot but a story of life, seasons passing, the years cycle frames their lives. The book is set in rural part of Ireland and is a portrait of a life in a rural lakeside community. It's the author's own place, sparsely populated corner of County Leitrim. Nothing much really happens yet it is full; haymaking, lambing, Monaghan Day, a wake. The story has repeating episodes of food, drink, the grey heron, swans, black cat and dogs. The Lake is one of the book's greatest character. This is a comfortable read and has less violence that Amongst Women but it is still there on the edge with John and the IRA man. A beautiful story set sometime after the war and modernization just starting to show up in the rural community with the telephone poles.
The title of this book also has great significance and poignancy.
There are so many great passages in this book and I am only adding this one to my review but really, there is so many more..."completely alone though a part of the crowd, Mary stood mutely gazing on her son and his wife as if in wonderment how so much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections; it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole these scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed?"
The title of this book also has great significance and poignancy.
There are so many great passages in this book and I am only adding this one to my review but really, there is so many more..."completely alone though a part of the crowd, Mary stood mutely gazing on her son and his wife as if in wonderment how so much time had disappeared and emerged again in such strange and substantial forms that were and were not her own. Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections; it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole these scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed?"
March 4, 2009
A professor in our English Department recommended McGahern as "Ireland's finest contemporary writer." Then last night a visitor from Ireland to our university, flabbergasted that I was reading McGahern, said that this was completely unlike his other novels, which are "much darker and more strongly plotted." "By the Lake" is a character study and a tribute to the beauty of a lake in the Irish countryside. It has a dolorous tone but is not dark, at least compared to so many other things I've read lately. Moreover, McGahern writes with incredible skill. But I had a had time staying with it. My reading is done mostly late at night or in snippets I steal while at work, and I need either a solid plot or some exciting ideas to jog my memory from one reading session to the next. So I spent much of my time lost, trying to sort out one character from another and trying to appreciate McGahern's obvious love for the Irish personality and the Irish countryside. I do want to go to Ireland, but I wanted to do that long before I read this novel. I will, however, give McGahern one more chance at four or five stars, albeit not for a few weeks.
July 3, 2023
Didn’t really appreciate it until about halfway through. Initially found it like watching paint dry… but although nothing much happens, great descriptive writing and characterisation - a very Irish story.
March 13, 2024
I discovered John McGahern through an essay by one of my favourite essayists, Anne Fadiman. Later when I went to the bookshop to spend a few pleasant hours browsing books, I saw John McGahern's 'By the Lake' there and couldn't resist it. All this happened years back. Since then the book has been languishing in my bookshelves. I finally got around to reading it.
There is a lake in an Irish village. Ruttledge and Kate live near the lake. They've moved here from London sometime back, because they wanted to enjoy the quiet rural atmosphere. Their best friends are Jamesie and Mary. What happens to these two couples and their families and friends and other people who live nearby during the course of a year is described in the rest of the book.
I loved 'By the Lake'. Some of the characters in the story are rich, some of them are poor, some of them are talkative, some of them are quiet, some of them are religious, some of them are not. But nearly all the characters are charming and likeable, and some of them are eccentric. There is one character, who can be regarded as bad, but he is also charming in some ways. It was hard for me to pick one favourite character because I loved them all. The description of nature and village life is very beautiful and is an absolute pleasure to read. I highlighted so many favourite passages in the book. I've never read an Irish book like this. The Irish books I've read till now are typically indistinguishable from English books, or they talk a bit about Catholic religion, and that's how we know that they are Irish. But this book is very different. It describes Irish village life and it sounds authentically Irish and is very different from anything I've read till now. I don't know whether this is how an Irish village looks like now or whether this is how it looked like once upon a time, or whether this is John McGahern's imagination on how he'd like an Irish village to be. Whichever of these is true, this book's version of Ireland and the Irish village life is very beautiful and charming. I loved it and I'm glad I read it.
Sharing some of my favourite parts from the book.
#Quote1
Patrick Ryan : "How is England?"
Johnny : "England never changes much. They have a set way of doing everything there. It's all more or less alphabetical in England."
Patrick Ryan : "Not like this fucken place. You never know what your Irishman is going to do next. What's more, the chances are he doesn't know either."
Johnny : "Everybody has their own way. There are times when maybe the English can be too methodical."
Patrick Ryan : "No danger of that here. There's no manners."
Kate : "Some people here have beautiful manners."
Patrick Ryan : "Maybe a few. But there's no rules. They're all making it up as they sail along."
#Quote2
"Then the pony took him home. Unless there was wind or heavy rain he was always seen to be asleep in a corner of the trap as they passed between the two bars in Shruhaun. There was so little traffic on the roads, his nature so unassuming and easygoing, his little weakness so well known, that this quiet passage drew no more attention than affectionate smiles of recognition. No one even shouted a mischievous greeting. Generally, he woke coming in round the shore, the pony's pace quickening in anticipation of being released from the trap and watered and given hay and oats. If the quick change of pace hadn't woken him, he would be quickly shaken awake by the rutted road."
#Quote3
"Bill Evans could no more look forward than he could look back. He existed in a small closed circle of the present. Remembrance of things past and dreams of things to come were instruments of torture."
#Quote4
"As he listened to the two voices he was so attached to and thought back to the afternoon, the striking of the clocks, the easy, pleasant company, the walk round the shore, with a rush of feeling he felt that this must be happiness. As soon as the thought came to him, he fought it back, blaming the whiskey. The very idea was as dangerous as presumptive speech: happiness could not be sought or worried into being, or even fully grasped; it should be allowed its own slow pace so that it passes unnoticed, if it ever comes at all."
#Quote5
"They could not live with him and they could not be seen – in their own eyes or in the eyes of others – to refuse him shelter or turn him away. The timid, gentle manners, based on a fragile interdependence, dealt in avoidances and obfuscations. Edges were softened, ways found round harsh realities. What was unspoken was often far more important than the words that were said. Confrontation was avoided whenever possible. These manners, open to exploitation by ruthless people, held all kinds of traps for the ignorant or unwary and could lead into entanglements that a more confident, forthright manner would have seen off at the very beginning. It was a language that hadn't any simple way of saying no."
#Quote6
"The days were quiet. They did not feel particularly quiet or happy but through them ran the sense, like an underground river, that there would come a time when these days would be looked back on as happiness, all that life could give of contentment and peace."
#Quote7
"The table was laid, a single candle lit, the curtains not drawn. As they ate and drank and talked, the huge shapes of the trees around the house gradually entered the room in the flickering half-light, and the room went out, as if in a dream, to include the trees and the fields and the glowing deep light of the sky. In this soft light the room seemed to grow enormous and everything to fill with repose."
#Quote8
Jamesie : "Do you think is there an afterlife?"
Ruttledge : "No. I don't believe there is but I have no way of knowing."
Jamesie : "You mean we're like dog or cat or a cow or a when we are dead we are just dead?"
Ruttledge : "More or less. I don't know from what source life comes, other than out of nature, or for what purpose. I suppose it's not unreasonable to think that we go back into whatever meaning we came from. Why do you ask?"
Jamesie : "I've been thinking about it a lot since Johnny went."
Ruttledge : "What do you think?"
Jamesie : "I think if there's a hell and heaven that one or other or both of the places are going to be vastly overcrowded."
Ruttledge : "I suspect hell and heaven and purgatory even eternity – all come from our experience of life and may have nothing to do with anything else once we cross to the other side."
Jamesie : "At the same time you wouldn't want to leave yourself too caught out in case you found there was something there when you did cross over."
Have you read John McGahern's book? What do you think about it?
There is a lake in an Irish village. Ruttledge and Kate live near the lake. They've moved here from London sometime back, because they wanted to enjoy the quiet rural atmosphere. Their best friends are Jamesie and Mary. What happens to these two couples and their families and friends and other people who live nearby during the course of a year is described in the rest of the book.
I loved 'By the Lake'. Some of the characters in the story are rich, some of them are poor, some of them are talkative, some of them are quiet, some of them are religious, some of them are not. But nearly all the characters are charming and likeable, and some of them are eccentric. There is one character, who can be regarded as bad, but he is also charming in some ways. It was hard for me to pick one favourite character because I loved them all. The description of nature and village life is very beautiful and is an absolute pleasure to read. I highlighted so many favourite passages in the book. I've never read an Irish book like this. The Irish books I've read till now are typically indistinguishable from English books, or they talk a bit about Catholic religion, and that's how we know that they are Irish. But this book is very different. It describes Irish village life and it sounds authentically Irish and is very different from anything I've read till now. I don't know whether this is how an Irish village looks like now or whether this is how it looked like once upon a time, or whether this is John McGahern's imagination on how he'd like an Irish village to be. Whichever of these is true, this book's version of Ireland and the Irish village life is very beautiful and charming. I loved it and I'm glad I read it.
Sharing some of my favourite parts from the book.
#Quote1
Patrick Ryan : "How is England?"
Johnny : "England never changes much. They have a set way of doing everything there. It's all more or less alphabetical in England."
Patrick Ryan : "Not like this fucken place. You never know what your Irishman is going to do next. What's more, the chances are he doesn't know either."
Johnny : "Everybody has their own way. There are times when maybe the English can be too methodical."
Patrick Ryan : "No danger of that here. There's no manners."
Kate : "Some people here have beautiful manners."
Patrick Ryan : "Maybe a few. But there's no rules. They're all making it up as they sail along."
#Quote2
"Then the pony took him home. Unless there was wind or heavy rain he was always seen to be asleep in a corner of the trap as they passed between the two bars in Shruhaun. There was so little traffic on the roads, his nature so unassuming and easygoing, his little weakness so well known, that this quiet passage drew no more attention than affectionate smiles of recognition. No one even shouted a mischievous greeting. Generally, he woke coming in round the shore, the pony's pace quickening in anticipation of being released from the trap and watered and given hay and oats. If the quick change of pace hadn't woken him, he would be quickly shaken awake by the rutted road."
#Quote3
"Bill Evans could no more look forward than he could look back. He existed in a small closed circle of the present. Remembrance of things past and dreams of things to come were instruments of torture."
#Quote4
"As he listened to the two voices he was so attached to and thought back to the afternoon, the striking of the clocks, the easy, pleasant company, the walk round the shore, with a rush of feeling he felt that this must be happiness. As soon as the thought came to him, he fought it back, blaming the whiskey. The very idea was as dangerous as presumptive speech: happiness could not be sought or worried into being, or even fully grasped; it should be allowed its own slow pace so that it passes unnoticed, if it ever comes at all."
#Quote5
"They could not live with him and they could not be seen – in their own eyes or in the eyes of others – to refuse him shelter or turn him away. The timid, gentle manners, based on a fragile interdependence, dealt in avoidances and obfuscations. Edges were softened, ways found round harsh realities. What was unspoken was often far more important than the words that were said. Confrontation was avoided whenever possible. These manners, open to exploitation by ruthless people, held all kinds of traps for the ignorant or unwary and could lead into entanglements that a more confident, forthright manner would have seen off at the very beginning. It was a language that hadn't any simple way of saying no."
#Quote6
"The days were quiet. They did not feel particularly quiet or happy but through them ran the sense, like an underground river, that there would come a time when these days would be looked back on as happiness, all that life could give of contentment and peace."
#Quote7
"The table was laid, a single candle lit, the curtains not drawn. As they ate and drank and talked, the huge shapes of the trees around the house gradually entered the room in the flickering half-light, and the room went out, as if in a dream, to include the trees and the fields and the glowing deep light of the sky. In this soft light the room seemed to grow enormous and everything to fill with repose."
#Quote8
Jamesie : "Do you think is there an afterlife?"
Ruttledge : "No. I don't believe there is but I have no way of knowing."
Jamesie : "You mean we're like dog or cat or a cow or a when we are dead we are just dead?"
Ruttledge : "More or less. I don't know from what source life comes, other than out of nature, or for what purpose. I suppose it's not unreasonable to think that we go back into whatever meaning we came from. Why do you ask?"
Jamesie : "I've been thinking about it a lot since Johnny went."
Ruttledge : "What do you think?"
Jamesie : "I think if there's a hell and heaven that one or other or both of the places are going to be vastly overcrowded."
Ruttledge : "I suspect hell and heaven and purgatory even eternity – all come from our experience of life and may have nothing to do with anything else once we cross to the other side."
Jamesie : "At the same time you wouldn't want to leave yourself too caught out in case you found there was something there when you did cross over."
Have you read John McGahern's book? What do you think about it?
January 16, 2013
This is McGahern's masterpiece, a major leap beyond the other novels into a wider frame. The characterisation of people like John Quinn and Jamesie and The Shah and others is beyond brilliant, though curiously the two people through whose perspective the story is mediated, The Ruttledges, are more pallidly drawn. A recurrent question is how well one might know a community without having been born into it. And an unstated question is how well the Ruttledges have understood the people they have been dealing with.
Many of the stories come through the lovable Jamesie, yet I sensed these stories were contrived and incredible. And that suggests that the whole social glue of gossip and storytelling in the community described here is something more dangerous than the Ruttledges have noticed.
Many critics see the book as light and lovely and pastoral and free of the darkness in McGahern's earlier work. Yet even the vision of the community as presented is dark and worrying - the lecherous Quinn, the IRA man undertaker that everybody knows is a bomber, the people pushed to the margins. Considering that McGahern might be quietly inviting us to distrust this whole picture suggests a vision darker still.
Many of the stories come through the lovable Jamesie, yet I sensed these stories were contrived and incredible. And that suggests that the whole social glue of gossip and storytelling in the community described here is something more dangerous than the Ruttledges have noticed.
Many critics see the book as light and lovely and pastoral and free of the darkness in McGahern's earlier work. Yet even the vision of the community as presented is dark and worrying - the lecherous Quinn, the IRA man undertaker that everybody knows is a bomber, the people pushed to the margins. Considering that McGahern might be quietly inviting us to distrust this whole picture suggests a vision darker still.
August 3, 2019
The unbroken story of the round of life in a small rural community is quietly told in such careful detail that it takes a very long while to realize the absence of an incident to propel the whole plot. There is no event that drives everything or problem that needs to be resolved. McGahern peoples his story fully with a wonderful range of characters of all sorts going about their beautiful lives of cutting the hay and being political and getting married and celebrating Christmas. Bill Evans is an enslaved home boy whose existence is heartbreaking, eased by the great kindness of his neighbours. John Quinn is an appalling boor whose sexual demands repel his neighbours. No one interferes in anyone else's life, but they all care and help where they can. This is a very quiet book with lovely descriptions: "There were primroses and violets on the banks of the lane and the dark leaf of the wild strawberry, dandelion in flower and little vetches. It was too early to scent the wild mint but they could see its rough leaves crawling along the edges of the gravel." It's the order of things, rolling along, all in order, "everything is alphabetical," as Johnny says. It's a warm book, simply showing life.
June 10, 2012
This book is in my book of 1001 books that I should read before I die. Thats the reason I chose it and the reason why I chose to abandon it after only 100 pages. It just wasnt for me.
There is no plot, nothing happens, the characters are all interchangeable and in the few pages I read I neither learned anything about them, what motivated them and where they were going to go.
There are no natural breaks in the book and the relentless prose just goes on and one until the point where I just couldnt take it anymore. An utter waste of my time. I remember trying to get through Ulylesses and meeting a similar end, but with that, I got to with 15 pages of the end. At least this time I had the good sense to give up before investing too much time.
I realise that this review will come inbetween a Lee Child and a Tom Cain book - but they are not all I read either.
There is no plot, nothing happens, the characters are all interchangeable and in the few pages I read I neither learned anything about them, what motivated them and where they were going to go.
There are no natural breaks in the book and the relentless prose just goes on and one until the point where I just couldnt take it anymore. An utter waste of my time. I remember trying to get through Ulylesses and meeting a similar end, but with that, I got to with 15 pages of the end. At least this time I had the good sense to give up before investing too much time.
I realise that this review will come inbetween a Lee Child and a Tom Cain book - but they are not all I read either.
June 29, 2016
A 4.5 star read for sure. I loved this book.
The characters were so warm and likeable - I definitely laughed out loud at Jamesie's one liners on more than one occasion. McGahern's portrayal of rural Ireland is stunning with small events such as the death of a black sheep taking on profound meaning.
One of McGahern's strengths is his ability to lure the reader into a false sense of calm with his pastoral reflections and disarm them moments later with the darkness that lurks underneath. The tale of John Quinn's first wedding jumps to mind here as a figure of ridicule is revealed to have a far darker and malevolent side.
Such an easy but emotive read. Highly recommended.
The characters were so warm and likeable - I definitely laughed out loud at Jamesie's one liners on more than one occasion. McGahern's portrayal of rural Ireland is stunning with small events such as the death of a black sheep taking on profound meaning.
One of McGahern's strengths is his ability to lure the reader into a false sense of calm with his pastoral reflections and disarm them moments later with the darkness that lurks underneath. The tale of John Quinn's first wedding jumps to mind here as a figure of ridicule is revealed to have a far darker and malevolent side.
Such an easy but emotive read. Highly recommended.
May 4, 2023
The happiest of McGahern’s novels. As in Turgenev, the plot may politely be described as seasonal. Released in America as By the Lake for some daft reason.
October 13, 2016
I admired this book. I can't say that I was enthralled by it, but I'm really struggling to accept how impressed by it I am despite that.
The book is set in rural Ireland, Longford as it happens but it could just as easily be in most other counties without a major metropolitan centre within striking distance. Exact setting is unimportant, not because McGahern is uninterested by the surroundings that he so delicately describes but, simply because any Irish person could read this novel and think of a place closer to their own home where the exact same chain of events could be played out. (Translations of McGahern's novels apparently do quite well in France so maybe it's not even unique to Ireland that such a landscape could exist.) Day and date are unimportant fixtures of the characters' calendars. They live day-to-day by the list of jobs that need doing, and if their jobs are done then they'll see if anyone else needs a hand. It's a simple share and share alike where people get by. They don't have much but they're certainly not found wanting either.
Time moves slowly by the lake outside the town. Sometimes one questions if it moves at all. The characters' lives progress, certainly, but time seems to have no bearing here. McGahern quite purposefully never mentions the date and that has a strange effect. So much of what happens in this book belongs to De Valera's rural Ireland of the fifties and sixties, yet every so often a subtle yet shocking reminder is given that this is not at all the fifties but rather the eighties (at least). The impression given is that of a land that time forgot. A place with no phones while the places they visit have computers. The introduction every once in a while of a piece of technological modernity is genuinely startling, a shocking anachronism that leaves you questioning how it is that people still find themselves living in such a way, but the manner in which their stories are told also leaves you to wonder if it's really they who are missing out... After all, our point of view Joe Ruttledge clearly left behind such progress for the entirely different world he now inhabits.
There's a casual brutality about this book that impressed me. Not the nihilistic brand of casual brutality found in horror films where people commit mass murder unperturbed; that's easily done. This is real. There's the village "characters", the ones who, in a place where secret-keeping is impossible, have done things that are truly reprehensible, but the village has its mechanisms. Like anywhere in rural Ireland, things are "dealt with", after a fashion. That might mean turning a blind eye to the deed, that might mean turning a blind eye to the reprisal for the deed, it might mean that people turn their backs when that person comes into the pub. The results are not always satisfactory, and in some cases are downright permissive, but they contribute to the realism. All is not rosy as in the Ruttledge's garden. This village has its dark secrets the same as any other. More brutal again are the glimpses of death within the pages. This is not a spoiler. The book never becomes Midsommer Murders. It is simply impossible to work on a farm without interacting with death. The novel accepts that and looks at it with the same observing eye as it looks at everything else. Different characters react to different deaths in different ways. It all feeds into how undeniably real and vivid the whole reading experience is.
What impressed me about That They May Face the Rising Sun, with a sense of awe and marvel that grew as I read, is simply its realness. Many people will call this novel dull and uninteresting and, to a large extent, they're not wrong. Nothing much happens. Reading this book is the (arguably) labour-free version of spending a few months on a farm somewhere in the West of Ireland. The pace is a far cry below funereal. The book has no denouement, no exposition - complication - resolution, in short it is almost entirely lacking in drama. The book simply is, and that's not for everyone. I'm not even sure if it was "for me". What may well go unnoticed though is just how hard it is to actually create a book that just "is". From the recesses of his mind John McGahern has pulled forth a fully-formed microcosm of rural Ireland that is entirely real. At no moment in this novel are you conscious of the fact that you are reading a novel written by a person. It's considerably easier to liken it to opening a window into someone else's life. It's only with great difficulty after reading the book that you can convince yourself that this village isn't actually there, that the people living in it don't actually exist, that the things you read didn't actually happen out there somewhere, because they could. To illustrate just how masterfully real the book is, while on the phone I found myself saying "Do you know what I never knew about Kate?" only to remember that Kate is a fictional character. In a book. That the person on the other end of the phone hasn't read. I was so convinced by the characters that I actually wanted to share their news on the phone as if it was a story to tell to fill a gap in a conversation! From a writing standpoint, that is nothing short of exemplary.
That They May Face the Rising Sun is a glacier of a book. It seems to take eons for anything to happen but the final results are undeniably significant. It's long and drawn out and many won't have the patience. There's no big reward at the end, but as a piece of writing it's exceptional.
The book is set in rural Ireland, Longford as it happens but it could just as easily be in most other counties without a major metropolitan centre within striking distance. Exact setting is unimportant, not because McGahern is uninterested by the surroundings that he so delicately describes but, simply because any Irish person could read this novel and think of a place closer to their own home where the exact same chain of events could be played out. (Translations of McGahern's novels apparently do quite well in France so maybe it's not even unique to Ireland that such a landscape could exist.) Day and date are unimportant fixtures of the characters' calendars. They live day-to-day by the list of jobs that need doing, and if their jobs are done then they'll see if anyone else needs a hand. It's a simple share and share alike where people get by. They don't have much but they're certainly not found wanting either.
Time moves slowly by the lake outside the town. Sometimes one questions if it moves at all. The characters' lives progress, certainly, but time seems to have no bearing here. McGahern quite purposefully never mentions the date and that has a strange effect. So much of what happens in this book belongs to De Valera's rural Ireland of the fifties and sixties, yet every so often a subtle yet shocking reminder is given that this is not at all the fifties but rather the eighties (at least). The impression given is that of a land that time forgot. A place with no phones while the places they visit have computers. The introduction every once in a while of a piece of technological modernity is genuinely startling, a shocking anachronism that leaves you questioning how it is that people still find themselves living in such a way, but the manner in which their stories are told also leaves you to wonder if it's really they who are missing out... After all, our point of view Joe Ruttledge clearly left behind such progress for the entirely different world he now inhabits.
There's a casual brutality about this book that impressed me. Not the nihilistic brand of casual brutality found in horror films where people commit mass murder unperturbed; that's easily done. This is real. There's the village "characters", the ones who, in a place where secret-keeping is impossible, have done things that are truly reprehensible, but the village has its mechanisms. Like anywhere in rural Ireland, things are "dealt with", after a fashion. That might mean turning a blind eye to the deed, that might mean turning a blind eye to the reprisal for the deed, it might mean that people turn their backs when that person comes into the pub. The results are not always satisfactory, and in some cases are downright permissive, but they contribute to the realism. All is not rosy as in the Ruttledge's garden. This village has its dark secrets the same as any other. More brutal again are the glimpses of death within the pages. This is not a spoiler. The book never becomes Midsommer Murders. It is simply impossible to work on a farm without interacting with death. The novel accepts that and looks at it with the same observing eye as it looks at everything else. Different characters react to different deaths in different ways. It all feeds into how undeniably real and vivid the whole reading experience is.
What impressed me about That They May Face the Rising Sun, with a sense of awe and marvel that grew as I read, is simply its realness. Many people will call this novel dull and uninteresting and, to a large extent, they're not wrong. Nothing much happens. Reading this book is the (arguably) labour-free version of spending a few months on a farm somewhere in the West of Ireland. The pace is a far cry below funereal. The book has no denouement, no exposition - complication - resolution, in short it is almost entirely lacking in drama. The book simply is, and that's not for everyone. I'm not even sure if it was "for me". What may well go unnoticed though is just how hard it is to actually create a book that just "is". From the recesses of his mind John McGahern has pulled forth a fully-formed microcosm of rural Ireland that is entirely real. At no moment in this novel are you conscious of the fact that you are reading a novel written by a person. It's considerably easier to liken it to opening a window into someone else's life. It's only with great difficulty after reading the book that you can convince yourself that this village isn't actually there, that the people living in it don't actually exist, that the things you read didn't actually happen out there somewhere, because they could. To illustrate just how masterfully real the book is, while on the phone I found myself saying "Do you know what I never knew about Kate?" only to remember that Kate is a fictional character. In a book. That the person on the other end of the phone hasn't read. I was so convinced by the characters that I actually wanted to share their news on the phone as if it was a story to tell to fill a gap in a conversation! From a writing standpoint, that is nothing short of exemplary.
That They May Face the Rising Sun is a glacier of a book. It seems to take eons for anything to happen but the final results are undeniably significant. It's long and drawn out and many won't have the patience. There's no big reward at the end, but as a piece of writing it's exceptional.
September 27, 2018
This is a fantastic book - for what it is. There should be a small note on the book to let people know what they are getting into. This book has essentially no plot and not much happens in it. But that doesn't mean it is one of those dull pretentious literary books where the author spends a whole chapter describing a tree and the reader is bored to death.
This is a book about characters. If you want a book about interesting characters and dialogue, this is for you. Nothing in the book happens other than characters appearing and talking. McGahern brilliantly captures the way people talk and this makes the book very enjoyable.
This is a book about characters. If you want a book about interesting characters and dialogue, this is for you. Nothing in the book happens other than characters appearing and talking. McGahern brilliantly captures the way people talk and this makes the book very enjoyable.
June 24, 2016
What a wonderful writer is John McGahern. He launches the reader right into the lives of Irish villagers with his careful descriptions of social intercourse: "'Patrick. You're shining', Jamesie held out his great hand .'The two of yous are a sight for sore eyes" he said with perfect poise in the middle of the jostling and pushing in the crush around the ring. 'If you didn't leave your manners behind today you'd be walked all over'".
"'Lots of money. Because I'm a topper,' he argued.'That's what Tom Casey told everybody after he married Ellen, who was a bicycle and ease and comfort to the whole country. 'Was I as good as the rest of them?' he asked her after he had performed on their wedding night. 'You were a topper', she told him. 'You were the very best.'"
"'You're a pure imposter, Jamesie', Bill Evans said. 'That's right, Mary encouraged. 'Give it to him, Bill. Give it to him good-o.' 'Good man, Bill. You're dressed to kill. You'll land a woman for yourself today'. Jamesie said."
The lilt and cadence of the Irish is there with all the colourful language and the blarney. With the way two men, who have worked one for the other for many years without ever speaking directly to each other, are described in all the awkwardness of one wanting to sell his business to the other, or the way Jamesie is studiously nonchalant about whether he receives help with his haymaking from his neighbours although it was of utmost importance to him, McGahern reveals his astute reading of human nature and his love for his countrymen despite their foibles.
The place is evocatively described with equal felicity. "When rain wasn't dripping from leaves or eaves, the air was so heavy it was like breathing rain. The hives were quiet. Only the midges swarmed." or "Nothing was sharp. The lanes of watery light that pierced the low cloud from time to time seemed to illuminate nothing but mist and cloud and water." and "Between the storms they had precious days of frost when the light was dry and clear and sounds carried. Thin ice glittered along the shore and clinked and chimed when there was any movement on the water."
I seem to remember a review that stated that there was not much plot. I disagree. One character flogs a pony nearly to death returning from the church on his marriage and then rapes his wife in sight of the wedding guests! One character has been badly abused all his life as an orphan from England who is made to work on a farm in slave-like conditions. Then there is the incursion across the border from the Northern soldiers which massacres a Republican guerilla group. In retaliation an innocent farmer is murdered because he is Protestant. With all these horrors swirling around the hospitable nature of the Irish, always with a bottle of whisky on hand to ease the pain, or a few cigarettes for the abused farm-hand, is constantly emphasised.
Altogether this is a wonderful book, describing haymaking with the worry about rain, and the sale of stock with the angst about the price one will get and the sorrow of parting with animals lovingly reared, and the easy camaraderie of the Irish pub where nobody is a stranger for more than a minute. And the title? All is explained at the end.
"'Lots of money. Because I'm a topper,' he argued.'That's what Tom Casey told everybody after he married Ellen, who was a bicycle and ease and comfort to the whole country. 'Was I as good as the rest of them?' he asked her after he had performed on their wedding night. 'You were a topper', she told him. 'You were the very best.'"
"'You're a pure imposter, Jamesie', Bill Evans said. 'That's right, Mary encouraged. 'Give it to him, Bill. Give it to him good-o.' 'Good man, Bill. You're dressed to kill. You'll land a woman for yourself today'. Jamesie said."
The lilt and cadence of the Irish is there with all the colourful language and the blarney. With the way two men, who have worked one for the other for many years without ever speaking directly to each other, are described in all the awkwardness of one wanting to sell his business to the other, or the way Jamesie is studiously nonchalant about whether he receives help with his haymaking from his neighbours although it was of utmost importance to him, McGahern reveals his astute reading of human nature and his love for his countrymen despite their foibles.
The place is evocatively described with equal felicity. "When rain wasn't dripping from leaves or eaves, the air was so heavy it was like breathing rain. The hives were quiet. Only the midges swarmed." or "Nothing was sharp. The lanes of watery light that pierced the low cloud from time to time seemed to illuminate nothing but mist and cloud and water." and "Between the storms they had precious days of frost when the light was dry and clear and sounds carried. Thin ice glittered along the shore and clinked and chimed when there was any movement on the water."
I seem to remember a review that stated that there was not much plot. I disagree. One character flogs a pony nearly to death returning from the church on his marriage and then rapes his wife in sight of the wedding guests! One character has been badly abused all his life as an orphan from England who is made to work on a farm in slave-like conditions. Then there is the incursion across the border from the Northern soldiers which massacres a Republican guerilla group. In retaliation an innocent farmer is murdered because he is Protestant. With all these horrors swirling around the hospitable nature of the Irish, always with a bottle of whisky on hand to ease the pain, or a few cigarettes for the abused farm-hand, is constantly emphasised.
Altogether this is a wonderful book, describing haymaking with the worry about rain, and the sale of stock with the angst about the price one will get and the sorrow of parting with animals lovingly reared, and the easy camaraderie of the Irish pub where nobody is a stranger for more than a minute. And the title? All is explained at the end.
January 27, 2023
Absolutely loved this book. The writing was so beautiful, the descriptions of the minutiae of everyday life of the characters filled me with happiness. Possibly this was helped by the fact that a few of my recent reads make for grim reading!
Not sure anyone who isn’t Irish would enjoy it much, there’s a lot of situational references that would probably be lost but well worth reading nonetheless
Not sure anyone who isn’t Irish would enjoy it much, there’s a lot of situational references that would probably be lost but well worth reading nonetheless
February 24, 2018
قد يكون هناك بعض الكتب والتي قد يجعلها القارئ كوقت مستقطع أو استراحة قرائية بعد القراءة الجادة في الكتب العلمية أو الفكرية.
ولعل هذه الرواية من تلك الكتب التي يُستراح بها، هذه الرواية تأخذ القارئ إلى بحيرة في إحدى أرياف إيرلندا ��يث يحيط بالبحيرة أعواد الخيزران وأشجار الكرز وأشجار جارة الماء، وتصدح حولها أصوات الطيور ويتقاطع معها أصوات الماشية في المراعي..
ينقلك الرواي إلى عالمٍ أشبه بالأحلام ، تعيش سخصياتُهُ متحررة من أعباء الإيديولوجيا ومن أي سلطة كانت ، تعيش بمعزلٍ عن صخب المدينة وتعقيداتها.
لا أخفيكم ففي قراءتي للربع الأول من الرواية صابني شيء من الملل أغلقتها مراراً وتكراراً ؛ كنت أبحث عن أحداث عن عقدة عن حبكة عن أي شيء أتشبث به لأقنع نفسي بإكمال الرواية، ولكني وجدت نفسي أندمج في الرواية شيئاً فشيئاً ، أصبحت أعيش معهم بمخيلتي بجانب البحيرة ، وفهمت أن الروائي أراد لروايته أن تكون بسيطة كشخصياته، فأكبر الأحداث التي قد تصادفها في الرواية هي زواج أو موت ، الشخصيات نفسها تبحث عن أحداث؛ لذا فهم يترددون على المدينة.. بحثاً عن قصة تشغلهم حكايتها بعض الوقت، يقول أحد الشخصيات : "الناس هنا ـ يقصد المدينة ـ يحدث لديهم في يوم واحد ما يحدث لدينا في سنة ..". تتمحور الرواية حول (روتلج وزوجته كيت) واللذان كانا يعيشان في المدينة يعمل كان روتلج في مجال الإعلانات وهو المتخصص في حقوق الملكية الفكرية..هاجر بعد ذلك هجرة عكسية إلى الريف والبحيرة يبحث عن السعادة ، ثم استنتج بعد ذلك أن السعادة لا يجب أن تُلَاحَق بل يجب أن نتركها في مساراتها الخاصة تتسلل حيث تشاء دون أن نلحظها أو نعي وجودها .
لا يهتمون بالوقت فالساعات لديهم متعطلة ولا يكترثون لإصلاحها وكأن لهم زمناً خاصاً بهم يتجلى في علاقتهم بالطبيعة والحيوانات والنباتات وبالقصة التي سيختمون بها يومهم.
الروائي يحاول أن يوجد آفاقاً يتجلى فيه الجمال بمفهومه بعيداً عن المدينة الخارجة من حروب الاستقلال ومظاهر الحداثة .. يحاول أن يوجد مكاناً تتكثف فيه دلالات الحياة.. في الطبيعة في الشخصيات التي همها الوحيد أن تموت ببساطة وبسلام وتقوم من موتها كي تواجه الشمس المشرقة.
لن تتعب نفسك أيها القارئ في التفتيش عما وراء السطور أو البحث عن معنى في الرواية فالمعاني كالشمس مشرقة وساطعة..
إن كان أحداً سيسألني هل تنصح بقراءة الرواية، فسأقول له : إن كنت تنتظر أحداثاُ أو حبكة أو فنيات روائية ؛ فهذه الرواية قد لا تعجبك..
كلما أستطيع أن أقوله أن هذه الرواية أخذتني إلى حيث الهدوء وكأنها استجمام للعقل. .
ولعل هذه الرواية من تلك الكتب التي يُستراح بها، هذه الرواية تأخذ القارئ إلى بحيرة في إحدى أرياف إيرلندا ��يث يحيط بالبحيرة أعواد الخيزران وأشجار الكرز وأشجار جارة الماء، وتصدح حولها أصوات الطيور ويتقاطع معها أصوات الماشية في المراعي..
ينقلك الرواي إلى عالمٍ أشبه بالأحلام ، تعيش سخصياتُهُ متحررة من أعباء الإيديولوجيا ومن أي سلطة كانت ، تعيش بمعزلٍ عن صخب المدينة وتعقيداتها.
لا أخفيكم ففي قراءتي للربع الأول من الرواية صابني شيء من الملل أغلقتها مراراً وتكراراً ؛ كنت أبحث عن أحداث عن عقدة عن حبكة عن أي شيء أتشبث به لأقنع نفسي بإكمال الرواية، ولكني وجدت نفسي أندمج في الرواية شيئاً فشيئاً ، أصبحت أعيش معهم بمخيلتي بجانب البحيرة ، وفهمت أن الروائي أراد لروايته أن تكون بسيطة كشخصياته، فأكبر الأحداث التي قد تصادفها في الرواية هي زواج أو موت ، الشخصيات نفسها تبحث عن أحداث؛ لذا فهم يترددون على المدينة.. بحثاً عن قصة تشغلهم حكايتها بعض الوقت، يقول أحد الشخصيات : "الناس هنا ـ يقصد المدينة ـ يحدث لديهم في يوم واحد ما يحدث لدينا في سنة ..". تتمحور الرواية حول (روتلج وزوجته كيت) واللذان كانا يعيشان في المدينة يعمل كان روتلج في مجال الإعلانات وهو المتخصص في حقوق الملكية الفكرية..هاجر بعد ذلك هجرة عكسية إلى الريف والبحيرة يبحث عن السعادة ، ثم استنتج بعد ذلك أن السعادة لا يجب أن تُلَاحَق بل يجب أن نتركها في مساراتها الخاصة تتسلل حيث تشاء دون أن نلحظها أو نعي وجودها .
لا يهتمون بالوقت فالساعات لديهم متعطلة ولا يكترثون لإصلاحها وكأن لهم زمناً خاصاً بهم يتجلى في علاقتهم بالطبيعة والحيوانات والنباتات وبالقصة التي سيختمون بها يومهم.
الروائي يحاول أن يوجد آفاقاً يتجلى فيه الجمال بمفهومه بعيداً عن المدينة الخارجة من حروب الاستقلال ومظاهر الحداثة .. يحاول أن يوجد مكاناً تتكثف فيه دلالات الحياة.. في الطبيعة في الشخصيات التي همها الوحيد أن تموت ببساطة وبسلام وتقوم من موتها كي تواجه الشمس المشرقة.
لن تتعب نفسك أيها القارئ في التفتيش عما وراء السطور أو البحث عن معنى في الرواية فالمعاني كالشمس مشرقة وساطعة..
إن كان أحداً سيسألني هل تنصح بقراءة الرواية، فسأقول له : إن كنت تنتظر أحداثاُ أو حبكة أو فنيات روائية ؛ فهذه الرواية قد لا تعجبك..
كلما أستطيع أن أقوله أن هذه الرواية أخذتني إلى حيث الهدوء وكأنها استجمام للعقل. .
March 9, 2013
A sample of the beautiful writing style.
"They could not live with him and they could not be seen--in their own eyes or in the eyes of others--to refuse him shelter or turn him away. The timid, gentle manners, based on a fragile interdependence, dealt in avoidances and obfuscatons. Edges were softened, ways found round harsh realities. What was unspoken was often far more important than the words that were said. Confrontation was avoided whenever possible. These manners, open to exploitation by ruthless people, held all kinds of traps for the ignorant or unwary and could lead into entanglements that a more confident, forthright manner would have seen off at the very beginning. It was a language that hadn't any simple way of saying no."
Beautifully written and engaging. McGahern took everyday people and turned out a story of the political, social and religious aspects of Ireland as seen through their eyes.
"The water was silent, except for the chattering of the wildfowl, the night air sweet with the wild mint crawling along the scents of the ripening meadows, thyme and clover and meadowsweet, wild woodbine high in the whitethorns mixed with the scent of the wild mint crawling along the gravel on the edge of the water."
A year of changing seasons around the lake and to the people who live there. I was deeply touched by this book. The Scotch-Irish ancestry stirred deeply in my soul while reading this. That deserves a five star rating.
"They could not live with him and they could not be seen--in their own eyes or in the eyes of others--to refuse him shelter or turn him away. The timid, gentle manners, based on a fragile interdependence, dealt in avoidances and obfuscatons. Edges were softened, ways found round harsh realities. What was unspoken was often far more important than the words that were said. Confrontation was avoided whenever possible. These manners, open to exploitation by ruthless people, held all kinds of traps for the ignorant or unwary and could lead into entanglements that a more confident, forthright manner would have seen off at the very beginning. It was a language that hadn't any simple way of saying no."
Beautifully written and engaging. McGahern took everyday people and turned out a story of the political, social and religious aspects of Ireland as seen through their eyes.
"The water was silent, except for the chattering of the wildfowl, the night air sweet with the wild mint crawling along the scents of the ripening meadows, thyme and clover and meadowsweet, wild woodbine high in the whitethorns mixed with the scent of the wild mint crawling along the gravel on the edge of the water."
A year of changing seasons around the lake and to the people who live there. I was deeply touched by this book. The Scotch-Irish ancestry stirred deeply in my soul while reading this. That deserves a five star rating.
Want to read
May 18, 2017Synopsis from library:
With this magnificently assured new novel, John McGahern reminds us why he has been called the Irish Chekhov, as he guides readers into a village in rural Ireland and deftly, compassionately traces its natural rhythms and the inner lives of its people. Here are the Ruttledges, who have forsaken the glitter of London to raise sheep and cattle, gentle Jamesie Murphy, whose appetite for gossip both charms and intimidates his neighbors, handsome John Quinn, perennially on the look-out for a new wife, and the town's richest man, a gruff, self-made magnate known as "the Shah."
Following his characters through the course of a year, through lambing and haying seasons, market days and family visits, McGahern lays bare their passions and regrets, their uneasy relationship with the modern world, their ancient intimacy with death.
Released Feb 2015, 233 pages.
With this magnificently assured new novel, John McGahern reminds us why he has been called the Irish Chekhov, as he guides readers into a village in rural Ireland and deftly, compassionately traces its natural rhythms and the inner lives of its people. Here are the Ruttledges, who have forsaken the glitter of London to raise sheep and cattle, gentle Jamesie Murphy, whose appetite for gossip both charms and intimidates his neighbors, handsome John Quinn, perennially on the look-out for a new wife, and the town's richest man, a gruff, self-made magnate known as "the Shah."
Following his characters through the course of a year, through lambing and haying seasons, market days and family visits, McGahern lays bare their passions and regrets, their uneasy relationship with the modern world, their ancient intimacy with death.
Released Feb 2015, 233 pages.
January 5, 2013
Isn't Ireland wonderful? Just the very fact that it exists and old men get drunk there makes for endless tales of rural joy and occasional moments of pain that are so intrinsically wonderful to tell in great detail that there is absolutely no need for anything to happen. At all. Kate and Ruttledge move back to Ireland from their nasty awful non Irish lives in London and then they grow a few plants and buy and sell a few sheep and that's pretty much it. But there's a guy called Jamesie who occasionally embarrasses his family when drunk and a loquacious local who may or may not be a rapist so you know, what else do you need? Ugh.
February 16, 2015
Probably one of the best books I have ever read. A small simple story but so well told. His discriptions of nature are so simple but so real. They are the people we know. If you are from the country I think you will really 'get' this book. Melencholly but beautiful.
February 15, 2018
رواية تحكي الطبيعة الإيرلندية و من بين السطور سترى فلسفة جون ماكغرين للحياة
Displaying 1 - 30 of 285 reviews