Joe O’Loughlin’s book is tremendously ambitious and has a great deal to commend it. It starts out in Ireland in the late eighteenth century and follows two sons of a Catholic chandler. After the father meets hard times, one son joins the Royal Navy, the other, the United Irishmen (a group of idealists, inspired by the French revolution, seeking freedom from colonial rule in Ireland). The two brothers eventually meet at sea while fighting for opposing sides. When Jack, the older brother, comes ashore at New Orleans, as a prisoner of the French, he decides to change sides and to join the American Navy. He does this for the sake of love, and in order to help his parents start a new life in America. Thus we have three contrasting scenarios: the harbour town of Cobh in Ireland; on board a British naval ship, and New Orleans.
The writer has excellent sea legs and the prose positively skims across the page when he’s out at sea. Just as in Patrick O Brien’s books, his depictions of naval life are full of colour and self assurance. The curious nature of naval etiquette, the complexity of the canvas sails, and the vividness of naval language are well covered. As is the contact that sailors of old had with their senses and intuition - the sound of rigging, of wind, of the sea, were important indicators of the weather which so affected their well being. The book made interesting comparisons between the mores of the new and old worlds. I was interested to read that the navy in America was better served with gunnery and more democratic but also less law abiding. The line between piracy and self defence, fine at the best of times for all nations, was at its finest among US ships. How the British navy managed to be so successful in defending its mercantile interests during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is a mystery; my own research about the British Admiral, Edward Vernon, has found that the system of impressing and poor pay resulted in constantly undermanned ships. This novel makes the same point. Given the camaraderie that develops between sailors at sea, the callow way in which Jack turned his back on his former comrades without so much as a pang of guilt or shame, was rather shocking. Jack is meant to be a decent sort and as such would have been more ‘conflicted’ by his treasonous change of sides.
Back on land the writer showed a lubberly lack of understanding of life in late eighteenth century Ireland and the book is full of errors. To be fair, understanding Ireland at the time is not easy since theory and practice can diverge. Following the Jacobite uprising under William 3rd, Britain introduced a series of Penal Laws which were not officially repealed until 1829. Their purpose was to give security to the Protestant ruling minority by making it illegal for Catholics to amass large land holdings, to hold meetings at which sedition might brew (including Catholic masses) or own weapons of war like powerful horses. When Britain was not at war, the penal laws were relaxed - they were difficult to enforce at the best of times, but even when not particularly active, few Catholic communities could afford a church building. Once Bonaparte became Britain’s enemy, the old Protestant distrust of the Catholic community reasserted itself; the Ascendancy’s main fear was that Ireland would be used as a back route into Britain. Joe O’Loughlin hasn’t fallen into the crude trap of assuming the Irish were wonderful and the British awful, but while friendship might have existed between Catholics and Protestants, there was a lid on self improvement on one side and an abiding sense of difference between the two groups.
I hope that when Joe O’Loughlin embarks on his next book, his historical research will include reading local writers whose books cover the times of which he writes; Irish social history is particularly well served by the likes of Walter Macken and J B Keane, even Anthony Trollope who worked in Ireland during the famines of 1845-49. I also hope he learns not to succumb to the fault of ‘modernising’ the past. This was most evident in all scenes involving Jack’s relations with young women. Women of good birth would most certainly not have slipped into his bed before marriage for the simple reason that pregnancy would have bought shame on them and their family. I say this with humility because I am a debut historical novelist myself and no doubt my own depiction of the eighteenth century is also full of faults. Perhaps though, because of this, I am sensitive to where the past is well handled and when it isn’t. Gallagher’s Prize has examples of both.