A Singular Country

by J.P. Donleavy

A new and original work from "one of the most accomplished and original writers of our time", Joseph Heller. A Singular Country is J.P. Donleavy's idiosyncratic and personal view of Ireland told in the vernacular of the Irishman, which he has nearly, but not quite, become. "A country where the dead are forever living and which is at once magical, illogical, mysterious and infuriating -- a land that is mostly, and perhaps always will remain, a condition of the mind in which dreams can be your only trusted reality". The New York City-born author assumed the right to speak of his adopted country from his own struggles and early turmoils within its shores and from his "descent on both parental sides from ancient bog-trotters traceable as far back into the centuries as anyone can record or remember". J.P. Donleavy brings to vivid life the range of Ireland's people, from the small farmer to the landed aristocrat, from the Anglo-Irish in their crumbling mansions to the "gombeen-men erecting their emporiums of vulgarity". Priests, politicians, saints, scholars -- none escape his pointed pen. Modern Ireland is unveiled with a mixture of genius and hilarity that only Donleavy can muster. Complemented by the black and white photography of Patrick Prendergast.

Genres: Ireland, Humor

198 pages, Hardcover

First published April 1, 1990

About the author

James Patrick Donleavy was an Irish American author, born to Irish immigrants. He served in the U.S. Navy during World War II after which he moved to Ireland. In 1946 he began studies at Trinity College, Dublin, but left before taking a degree. He was first published in the Dublin literary periodical, Envoy.

See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J.P._Don...

Reviews

[Liam · Rating 1 out of 5]

On the back of the dust-jacket, there is a blurb credited to The Guardian which describes J.P. Donleavy as "the world champ stage Irishman", and that may well have been true in 1990. In any case, that's as good a description of the author as is needed for the purpose of evaluating whether or not to read this book. The fact that he was an obnoxious snob who affected a really annoying mid-Atlantic accent is beside the point. Frankly, I'm fairly impressed that anyone, even a fellow diaspora Irishman, could successfully make what was apparently a substantial living off of writing this sort of clichéd, overdone and out-dated tripe. I am damned glad I didn't actually have to pay for this book. "His Nibs", indeed. In a pig's ass...

[Len · Rating 3 out of 5]

Is there really something attractive about a pretend Irishman spouting the sozzled lyricism of a bibulous Celtic bard? If I had been able to read this book when I was twenty I may have thought it very funny. I've changed – along with a lot of people since the book's publication in 1989. However, don't misunderstand me. I still enjoy innuendo, double entendres, the farce of florid-faced, sweaty sexual misbehaviour – usually involving older men and younger women, not to mention the occasional knob gag and auditory impersonation of flatulence. Crudity, like rust, can be difficult to remove.

Your Mr Donleavy sounds as if he was happiest in an admiring crowd with several bottles of champagne, a decent claret, and probably whiskey chasers to bring on a tale or three. It may be possible, in such circumstances, to slip into the fanciful telling snobbish prejudice, misogyny, and even a sneering contempt for the “ordinary” Irish – strategic laughter and conviviality can hide a caustic personality much as whitewash paints over blemishes – in print, however, so much is laid stark in black against white. The naughty little stories of sexual misconduct are OK in their naughty little way though I fancy at the bar people would be turning to each other to mutter, “Ah, god love him, your man's into telling that story again. Just keep laughing. The drinks'll keep coming.” The views of Ireland and the Irish are rarely complimentary and sometimes simply annoying.

It's a good thing, for his own safety, that he was an American and not English.