A wreath upon the dead

by Briege Duffaud

Myth begins to unravel when Maureen Murphy, a romantic novelist who lives in ch teau in France, decides to base her next book on the tale of Irish folk hero, Cormac O'Flaherty. Cormac was a jockey who, in the years before the great famine of the 1840s, married his landlord's daughter, Marianne McLeod. Maureen's interest is heightened because Cormac and Marianne lived in the Claghan district of South Armagh where she herself was brought up. Her oldest friend, Kathleen O'Flaherty, is a direct descendant of the Cormac of the story.Briege Duffaud's account of the interweaving of simple myth and complex truth in the lives of the modern O'Flahertys and McLeods makes an absolutely compelling story. Women's voices predominate in this witty, rueful and intensely readable novel which explores the national ambiguities, the facts and the fictions, of Irish life durning the last sixty years. It is as eloquent about the London of the Swinging sixties as it is about troubled Ulster.From the voices of Maureen, Lizzie, Kathleen and Sarah we hear echoes of the sad mockery in Patrick Kavanagh's "They put a wreth upon the deadFor the dead will wear the cap of any racket".

464 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1993

Reviews

[Len · Rating 4 out of 5]

The idea was a very strong one: to get behind the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the hatred, the distrust, the rivalries between Protestant and Catholic, Unionist and Republican. To do it by having an Ulster born romantic novelist, using old journals and documents and her own memories of growing up poor in the small town of Claghan in south Armagh, write a book which will satisfy her ambition to be known as someone capable of more than predictable romances. A strong and a very good idea but so difficult to make it work.

The underlying story is the relationship between the Irish Catholic O'Flahertys and the Scots Protestant McLeods, which starts in the 1830s and meets a bloody end in the 1980s. The wealthy McLeods, with a fortune made as cloth merchants in Scotland, are persuaded to buy Claghan Hall with its run down estate and population of very poor tenant farmers. Among the tenants are the O'Flahertys and it is the ambitious Cormac who sets the story moving when he sees that the McLeod's teenage daughter Marianne is falling in love with him. After he murders Arthur Dobson, the ruthless estate manager, and attempts to kill another man he imagines an escape in marrying Marianne and becoming accepted into the ruling elite. He is forced to elope with her and things do not work out. They end up trying to emigrate to America but die on the voyage. However, their children survive and go on to make a success of their lives in their new country. That proves to be something of a red herring. The American connection reappears later but to little effect. What matters is the mythologizing of Cormac's deeds as a patriotic Irish hero and how that influences generations to come.

The nature of the story-building creates problems as the author has to produce styles of writing from members of the O'Flaherty and McLeod families through the centuries. Some work quite well while others do not ring true. Marianne McLeod's journal, supposedly written between 1840 and 1842 and beginning when she was seventeen, sometimes drifts away from a Jane Austen influence in language and sits very firmly with a twenty-first century spoiled teenager moaning about the unfairness of the adult world and how nobody understands her. Letters from the fictional author's mother, a woman from the rural south who had been denied any real education, are remarkably eloquent and literate, sounding more like Briege Duffaud than a resident of working class Bohamamuc.

As the story moves into the 1970s and 80s the narrative strengthens and becomes more vibrant. However, the final storyline when the most recent descendants of the O'Flaherty and McLeod families act out their tragic destinies turns a little melodramatic and, even given the nature of the violence, any association with paramilitary or political allegiance is kept strictly at arm's length. It is as if the author ultimately wants the book to remain neutral. Even so the book comes so close to achieving its aims it becomes a frustrating read.

[Stella Butler · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kinda werks kinda don’t very forgettable very irish

[Kathryn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not mad about the style of the book, all backwards and forwards, and the "begorrah" Irishness is a bit irritating but I liked how the current Northern situation can be traced back to the past and how it shows the church as so powerful.. It was a book club choice, I wouldn't have chosen or finished it otherwise.