** spoiler alert ** It is time for Ben MacCarthy to face his past and defeat his worst enemy: his own pusillanimity. Every single aspect and person he comes into contact with seems to be telling him so, yet he remains a coward. But how can he risk rejection again, when life seems to be uncontrollably happening to him, and not at all in a pleasant way? His mentor is gone, the Irish Republican Army is rising and he got involved somehow, his parents are selling his childhood home and Venetia is back to Ireland.

It always comes down to Venetia, does it not?

In this new chapter of Ben’s life, Frank Delaney is, once again, a word master. His intense narrative takes the reader into a splendid atmosphere of opposites: history and myth, violence and poetry, love and hate, exhilaration and excruciating pain. Regardless of The Last Storyteller being a sequence, it works perfectly as a standalone. Any relevant information about Ben’s past is sprinkled about, always in perfect harmony with the passage it is part of, thus enabling a new reader to enjoy the book without missing some of the details that make it wonderful.

The Last Storyteller: A Novel Of Ireland takes place in 1957, about ten years after the events of The Matchmaker Of Kenmare: A Novel Of Ireland, in an Ireland divided between those grateful for the independence gained by the south counties and those angered that part of the island is still under the English power. Ben is dragged into the fray by Jimmy Bermingham, a sort of friend one has to be really, really trusting to make and even more understanding to keep. Ironically, it is also through Jimmy that Ben comes to know Marian Killeen, a single, rich woman who plays a vital role in Ben’s decision to take Venetia back from Gentleman Jack. It goes without saying that tales of Ireland’s past are part of each chapter, but this time such tales are more than a background to paint Ben’s job. They seem to illustrate what Ben is about to witness taking place, either in a secluded village in the countryside or with nation-wide repercussions. Such tales complement the narrative beautifully and reminded me of why I fell in love with Frank Delaney’s Ireland so many years ago. I am still looking for a source of information for one of them, actually, and I wonder how many of the Irish legends are still waiting to be told to the world at large.

The recurring characters show a natural development from the first two instalments, and it is no surprise how much this is more prominent in Ben and Venetia. He is more mature, more obstinate, and less wimpy. She is more reclusive, more fragile; attempting to deal with emotional scars accumulated during 25 years hoping Ben would come to her rescue. When he finally does, she struggles to overcome what has been ingrained in her soul: lack of confidence and trust. A highly delightful addition is the introduction of Ben and Venetia’s twins. Ben and Louise bring a gentle shift in the characters’ dynamics and in the narrative tone, not to mention it provided Ben with a new and definite quality of self-assurance. On the other hand, Marian Killeen has an important part to play and she comes out as independent and ahead of her time in some ways. However, I could not make myself like her. Her motives were seemingly less than altruist and her attitude somewhat vain.

All in all, it is an enchanting – there is no more accurate word to describe it, really – book. Not only it is recommended to readers who appreciate a bardic storytelling but also to those who can relish the writer’s choice of words and their impact on the whole. The title fits Frank Delaney himself and more than once I found myself wondering what aspects of his own life can be found between the lines. I make Frank Delaney’s words mine by describing my experience reading The Last Storyteller: “I ceased to exist in my body, because as he rose to the high and wild climax of his story, my spirit ascended with him”.