O'Houlihan's Jest: A Lament for the Irish

by Rohan O'Grady

A macabre jest indeed is told at O'Houlihan's wake by his friend and lieutenant, Mick, who renders tribute to O'Houlihan, the last of a race of kings, the last of seven sons who had fought and died for Ireland against the British. This is the story of how O'Houlihan came back to avenge the last brother's death at the hands of "The Man", the leader of the British forces so hated by the Hunted Irish- and feared, that they will not give The Man a name.

197 pages, Unknown Binding

First published January 1, 1961

About the author

Rohan O'Grady is the pseudonym for June Margaret O'Grady Skinner, who also wrote as A. Carleon.

O'Grady began writing poetry and stories as a young child and ventured into full-length fiction in her late thirties after her marriage to newspaper editor Frederick Skinner.

June Skinner has resided in West Vancouver since 1959.

Reviews

[mark monday · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is no humor in him, no laughter, no playfulness, no gossip, no dishonesty. There is justness, strength, and an austere, impersonal kindness.

Oh but there is a small bit of humor in O'Houlihan: a vengeful, terrible humor, a deep and secret vein of it, cast from beyond the grave. His jest shall slay, as he was slain.

O'Houlihan's Jest tells a tale of 18th century Ireland under the yoke of its British oppressor and of a fictional rebel leader and martyr, James O'Houlihan, who fought these interlopers and died - and who returned, in a way. He is a king among men, as beloved as one, and often just as removed. The novel recounts his battle with "The Man" - as the unnamed leader of British forces is simply known - and his love for the fairy-like Molly, who in turn loves a kind Welshman in The Man's army. It is told by his fey half-brother Mick, branded by The Man, and renamed: The Jackaleen. The story begins and ends with a wake.

It is lyrically written and compellingly told, mythic and magical and yet very much down to earth, wrathful and grim and humorous and romantic, weird and fearful and tragic and humane. It may be a slender novel, and a quick, intense, exciting read - but it has a spare majesty to it as well, like a myth being told for the first time. Slim but dense - thick with emotion, full of yearning and melancholy and poetry. The prose sings from the page. It was a resonant and beautiful experience, and everything I'd want in a book.

This was Rohan O'Grady's first and favorite novel, and an ode to her Irish heritage. She would only write four more after this. Born June Skinner, later a mother and wife in Vancouver, Canada (and nicknamed "Legs O'Grady" by her husband), she never received the recognition due to her. Perhaps because all of her books are virtually unclassifiable, resisting easy categorization or even summation: a hauntingly mythic historical novel; a creepy, anti-romantic gothic; a morbid children's adventure; an eerie, disturbing psychological mystery; and finally a sweet and vindictive coming of age tale. Perhaps it is because that while they stay true to their various genres, they move beyond them as well, playing with each model's form, and toying with reader expectations of what these genres should look and feel like. Her stories always go to places of surprising darkness, but ones leavened with an empathetic perspective and a light, subtle touch; often bleak stories suffused with macabre humor, that remain rooted by a perfect understanding of human nature - its beauty and ugliness and strangeness. Each one is a treasure.