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The Road to McCarthy: Around the World in Search of Ireland
Pete McCarthy established one cardinal rule of travel in his bestselling debut, McCarthy's Bar: "Never pass a bar with your name on it." In this equally wry and insightful follow-up,his characteristic good humor, curiosity, and thirst for adventure take him on a fantastic jaunt around the world in search of his Irish roots -- from Morocco, where he tracks down the unlikely chief of the McCarthy clan, to New York, and finally to remote Mc-Carthy, Alaska. The Road to McCarthy is a quixotic and anything-but-typical Irish odyssey that confirms Pete McCarthy's status as one of our funniest and most incisive writers.
368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 97 reviews
June 13, 2012
I savored this because there isn't another one.
McCarthy is back on the road, searching for his Irishness or Ireland, or just a great pub. I love his travel methodology and wish I could be as relaxed in my approach to life. He followed the Irish diaspora to Van Dieman's Land, Montana, Monserratt, and even ventured to Alaska. I love most his enjoyment of the unexpected. He heads out to see or do one thing, but the real delight of the journey is all the stuff that he wasn't expecting.
This tale is a bit darker - he was clearly disturbed by the horrors of the prisons and not surprising. That much pain in one place has to linger for generations.
I was sad to find out Pete McCarthy died. His books are funny and fun and a joy to read. Hopefully there is a most excellent selection of pubs wherever he is.
McCarthy is back on the road, searching for his Irishness or Ireland, or just a great pub. I love his travel methodology and wish I could be as relaxed in my approach to life. He followed the Irish diaspora to Van Dieman's Land, Montana, Monserratt, and even ventured to Alaska. I love most his enjoyment of the unexpected. He heads out to see or do one thing, but the real delight of the journey is all the stuff that he wasn't expecting.
This tale is a bit darker - he was clearly disturbed by the horrors of the prisons and not surprising. That much pain in one place has to linger for generations.
I was sad to find out Pete McCarthy died. His books are funny and fun and a joy to read. Hopefully there is a most excellent selection of pubs wherever he is.
April 13, 2012
I rarely give five stars. I'd have given this six.
This is beyond doubt one of the funniest travel books I've ever read, but it's also packed with glorious trivia, and the guy has that rare gift of being able to have you laughing out loud with a sentence, and gulping with emotion the next.
I now really NEED to visit Tasmania and Montserrat, with a possible side-trip to Tangier, before the bucket-list is complete. GREAT book!
p.s. I just found out that Pete died eight years ago, and way too young. Proving that God has no sense of humour, but is a master of irony.
This is beyond doubt one of the funniest travel books I've ever read, but it's also packed with glorious trivia, and the guy has that rare gift of being able to have you laughing out loud with a sentence, and gulping with emotion the next.
I now really NEED to visit Tasmania and Montserrat, with a possible side-trip to Tangier, before the bucket-list is complete. GREAT book!
p.s. I just found out that Pete died eight years ago, and way too young. Proving that God has no sense of humour, but is a master of irony.
May 7, 2016
I was biased in favor of this piece of writing before I had even read the first page. Like many sequels though, it paled in comparison to its predecessor [McCarthys Bar] ~ don't get me wrong. It was still full of wit and hilarious description. It was more of an editorial problem with a tendency to go off on tangents and a rambling style of writing. I am still, and always will be a fan of the late great Pete McCarthy. Who else would come up with gold like this: [pg369] The cook working at the griddle is a star. With a ponytail poking through his baseball cap, sunken cheeks, and pallid, cadaverous skin, he looks like Iggy Pop when he was scary but not yet really terrifying. His sinewy arms look powerful, not showy gym muscle but lean and taut, strength that he uses every day. He moves with speed and grace along the range, cooking six or seven orders at once, beating eggs with half a dozen flicks of his left hand as he shapes sizzling grated potato into hash browns with his right, breaking away to flip two eggs over in a pan with the barest suspicion of a wrist movement, then throws an omelette, turns a steak, and spins on the spot to retrieve bacon from an enormous glass-fronted fridge. It's like watching a class variety act: you're waiting for the spinning plates to fall, the house of cards to tumble, but they never do.
November 10, 2012
This review applies to both of the late Pete McCarthy's books, McCarthy's Bar and The Road to McCarthy.
“If you travel in hope rather than with certain knowledge,” writes Pete McCarthy, “something interesting usually happens.” On the evidence of his first two books, McCarthy is an infinitely hopeful traveler; wherever he goes -- a pub in a small Irish town, an Irish bar in a big American city, or a sparsely populated Alaskan burg that bears his name -- something interesting indeed happens. And McCarthy has the storytelling chops of a seasoned raconteur, liar, or sage (choose your term; they’re interchangeable) and the willingness to take us as his companion. We do well to go along with him on his spirited and hilarious journeys.
McCarthy’s first book, McCarthy’s Bar, begins with the eighth rule of travel: “Never Pass a Bar That Has Your Name On It.” Born to an English father and an Irish mother, and with an upbringing in England punctuated by extended visits with his mother’s family in Cork, McCarthy wonders, “Is it possible to have some kind of genetic memory of a place where you’ve never lived, but your ancestors have? Or am I just a sentimental fool, my judgment fuddled by nostalgia, Guinness, and the romance of the diaspora?”
He may well be an accidental mystic or a fool, but he is above all a pilgrim in search of roots, a sense of home and history; and his stories range well beyond bars named “Pete’s” or “McCarthy’s.” The cast of McCarthy’s Irish adventures include keepers of public houses, fellow McCarthys who treat him as family, tourists from around the world, and people like Mr. Goggin (“surrounded by sixteen or seventeen of his children,” he has “the look of a man who lives in constant dread of being asked if he plans on having any more kids”) and an unnamed “little lady” with “some kind of mystical Tír-na-nÓggish vibe going on” who seems to appear from the mist to offer advice, tea, and biscuits, and then fades into the mist again.
Early in his journey, McCarthy focuses on St. Patrick’s Purgatory, Lough Derg, as a particular destination. There, at a “unique centre of Celtic spirituality,” he will participate in a three-day pilgrimage of sleep-deprived fasting and barefoot devotion to the Stations of the Cross. But first he will climb Croagh Patrick (a.k.a. The Reek), a Mayo feature:
McCarthy’s account of the climb includes the touristically ridiculous:
. . . and the sublime:
Lough Derg and its three-day fast and pilgrimage have been written of poetically by some of Ireland’s greats, notably Patrick Kavanagh and Seamus Heaney (“Lough Derg” and “Station Island,” respectively). McCarthy, with what is, by this point in the book, his trademark wit, can be counted on for a rather different sort of view:
His account alternates between seriousness and humor as he counts up the prayers prayed and examines the good priest/bad priest dynamic utilized by the retreat leaders. By the end, though, he is not afraid to admit that there was something to it:
The reader can be excused for hoping that Pete McCarthy never quite figures out who he is; that way, he will need to keep looking. In his second book, The Road to McCarthy, the search continues. This time he ranges farther afield -- to Morocco, Tasmania, Montserrat, New York, Montana, and Alaska -- each time on the scent of a McCarthy trail that begins in Cork and follows one of the many directions of the Irish diaspora. As might be expected by now, it is not the achievement of certain knowledge, but the pleasure of the chase, that keeps McCarthy going and keeps the reader enthusiastically turning pages.
Right from the start of The Road to McCarthy we know that McCarthy’s Bar was no fluke. Describing two of his fellow passengers as a flight to Gibraltar experiences turbulence and other troubles, he writes, “They have taken on the haunted look of men who are about to plummet from 36,000 feet and don’t know whether to use their last seconds to proposition the hostess or order more gin and port.” In Tangier, we share his anxiety as he tries to learn a difficult city and contact the McCarthy brothers who were supposed to meet him at his day-late plane and whose phone number and address he has left on a piece of paper in England. In New York, his wild tale of a series of coincidences that leads to several good ends, including a free ticket to a sold-out play by an up-and-coming Irish playwright and a friendship with a musician who plays Irish republican hip-hop, is almost too much to believe, but too good to disbelieve. He can break our heart in Tasmania, where a site of brutal imprisonment of the Irish by the British Empire became a place of tourist massacre at the hands of a “sane” gunman in 1996. And his trip to the tiny, isolated town of McCarthy, Alaska will have fans of the old TV series Northern Exposure feeling a sense of déjà vu, only better.
As McCarthy regales us with his travel tales, we grow less concerned with the actual upshot of all of his exploration, and more and more taken by the sense that his stories themselves are the thing. One of the objects of his travel is to track down Terence McCarthy, the purported chief of the McCarthy clan whose claim to the title has been discredited. Another McCarthy, in New York, says of the scandal surrounding Terence,
The McCarthy story is perhaps the human story writ small. Put in headline form it might read: “Claims that Unify Trumped by Divisiveness.” It’s time to let the stories do their stuff for the human race, absent of politics and power claims. Pete McCarthy knows how to tell a story. Here’s a good place to once again find that groove.
“If you travel in hope rather than with certain knowledge,” writes Pete McCarthy, “something interesting usually happens.” On the evidence of his first two books, McCarthy is an infinitely hopeful traveler; wherever he goes -- a pub in a small Irish town, an Irish bar in a big American city, or a sparsely populated Alaskan burg that bears his name -- something interesting indeed happens. And McCarthy has the storytelling chops of a seasoned raconteur, liar, or sage (choose your term; they’re interchangeable) and the willingness to take us as his companion. We do well to go along with him on his spirited and hilarious journeys.
McCarthy’s first book, McCarthy’s Bar, begins with the eighth rule of travel: “Never Pass a Bar That Has Your Name On It.” Born to an English father and an Irish mother, and with an upbringing in England punctuated by extended visits with his mother’s family in Cork, McCarthy wonders, “Is it possible to have some kind of genetic memory of a place where you’ve never lived, but your ancestors have? Or am I just a sentimental fool, my judgment fuddled by nostalgia, Guinness, and the romance of the diaspora?”
He may well be an accidental mystic or a fool, but he is above all a pilgrim in search of roots, a sense of home and history; and his stories range well beyond bars named “Pete’s” or “McCarthy’s.” The cast of McCarthy’s Irish adventures include keepers of public houses, fellow McCarthys who treat him as family, tourists from around the world, and people like Mr. Goggin (“surrounded by sixteen or seventeen of his children,” he has “the look of a man who lives in constant dread of being asked if he plans on having any more kids”) and an unnamed “little lady” with “some kind of mystical Tír-na-nÓggish vibe going on” who seems to appear from the mist to offer advice, tea, and biscuits, and then fades into the mist again.
Early in his journey, McCarthy focuses on St. Patrick’s Purgatory, Lough Derg, as a particular destination. There, at a “unique centre of Celtic spirituality,” he will participate in a three-day pilgrimage of sleep-deprived fasting and barefoot devotion to the Stations of the Cross. But first he will climb Croagh Patrick (a.k.a. The Reek), a Mayo feature:
Its near-symmetrical pyramid form is like the blueprint for an archetypal mountain, the resonant shape of a fairytale peak from a children’s story book. It is here that St Patrick is said to have issued the exclusion order banishing all snakes from Ireland when, in 441, he spent forty days and forty nights fasting at the summit.
McCarthy’s account of the climb includes the touristically ridiculous:
The final ascent to the summit is a steep one, scrambling over loose rock and shale that’s been badly eroded by the constant passage of pilgrims. As I’m taking a breather and munching on a life-enhancing apple, a woman comes bounding down the precipitous slope at a tremendous pace. . . . It’s Vicki, the Kiwi hitch-hiker I picked up a few days ago, timing herself in some kind of masochistic speed trial against the mountain. New Zealanders will never walk up or down anything if there’s a chance it will hurt more to run instead. Theirs is not a country so much as a fitness camp. Why look at something, they reason, when it will toughen me up if I charge at it with my head?
. . . and the sublime:
My hips and knees are aching from the impact of walking down, which always hurts more than walking
up, but I’m feeling good for having done it. And it’s not just the physical buzz from working off the squid and black pudding. There’s a spiritual element too, and it comes not from any inherent power or magic the mountain possesses, but from what’s been bestowed on it by the people who have gone there every hour, every day, for millennia. And for once, my delight in a place has been enhanced by having lots of people around, knowing that they’re all still furthering that process.
Lough Derg and its three-day fast and pilgrimage have been written of poetically by some of Ireland’s greats, notably Patrick Kavanagh and Seamus Heaney (“Lough Derg” and “Station Island,” respectively). McCarthy, with what is, by this point in the book, his trademark wit, can be counted on for a rather different sort of view:
As the boatman welcomes me with a steely glare, I feel like Edward Woodward as the doomed policeman heading out the island at the beginning of The Wicker Man.
Except, of course, that he didn’t know how The Wicker Man ended. I do.
His account alternates between seriousness and humor as he counts up the prayers prayed and examines the good priest/bad priest dynamic utilized by the retreat leaders. By the end, though, he is not afraid to admit that there was something to it:
The lake is shimmering like the Mediterranean under a bright sun as we cross back to the mainland. If it were a film, this would be a grotesque cliché, sin and gloom transformed into grace and sunlight by the redemptive magic of the pilgrimage. As it’s actually happening, I’m doing my best to ignore its symbolic significance, and just enjoy the weather. I can’t deny, though, that I’m feeling good. There’s a crispiness and clearness to things that has nothing to do with the sunlight. This has been powerful medicine. If it can do this to me, what must the true believers be feeling?
The reader can be excused for hoping that Pete McCarthy never quite figures out who he is; that way, he will need to keep looking. In his second book, The Road to McCarthy, the search continues. This time he ranges farther afield -- to Morocco, Tasmania, Montserrat, New York, Montana, and Alaska -- each time on the scent of a McCarthy trail that begins in Cork and follows one of the many directions of the Irish diaspora. As might be expected by now, it is not the achievement of certain knowledge, but the pleasure of the chase, that keeps McCarthy going and keeps the reader enthusiastically turning pages.
Right from the start of The Road to McCarthy we know that McCarthy’s Bar was no fluke. Describing two of his fellow passengers as a flight to Gibraltar experiences turbulence and other troubles, he writes, “They have taken on the haunted look of men who are about to plummet from 36,000 feet and don’t know whether to use their last seconds to proposition the hostess or order more gin and port.” In Tangier, we share his anxiety as he tries to learn a difficult city and contact the McCarthy brothers who were supposed to meet him at his day-late plane and whose phone number and address he has left on a piece of paper in England. In New York, his wild tale of a series of coincidences that leads to several good ends, including a free ticket to a sold-out play by an up-and-coming Irish playwright and a friendship with a musician who plays Irish republican hip-hop, is almost too much to believe, but too good to disbelieve. He can break our heart in Tasmania, where a site of brutal imprisonment of the Irish by the British Empire became a place of tourist massacre at the hands of a “sane” gunman in 1996. And his trip to the tiny, isolated town of McCarthy, Alaska will have fans of the old TV series Northern Exposure feeling a sense of déjà vu, only better.
As McCarthy regales us with his travel tales, we grow less concerned with the actual upshot of all of his exploration, and more and more taken by the sense that his stories themselves are the thing. One of the objects of his travel is to track down Terence McCarthy, the purported chief of the McCarthy clan whose claim to the title has been discredited. Another McCarthy, in New York, says of the scandal surrounding Terence,
“Here’s the way I see it. I’ve read Terence’s books and I thought they were great stories. I read ’em, I close ’em, and I put ’em back on the shelf. And d’you know what? I don’t want to know whether they’re true or
not.”
He takes a drink and a pause for thought.
“It doesn’t actually matter whether they’re true, or whether his claim to be prince of Desmond was true. The point was, it brought people together. It was a fraternal organization. C’mon! We knew we weren’t really related. So what? It was a starting point. It’s shot to hell now with this scandal.”
The McCarthy story is perhaps the human story writ small. Put in headline form it might read: “Claims that Unify Trumped by Divisiveness.” It’s time to let the stories do their stuff for the human race, absent of politics and power claims. Pete McCarthy knows how to tell a story. Here’s a good place to once again find that groove.
August 26, 2009
Did you know that the island of Montserrat is the only country in the world apart from Ireland that has a public holiday on St Patrick's day? Neither did I! This and all sorts of other interesting and unusual bits and pieces have found their way into this very amusing book by Pete Mccarthy. The premise of the book is his search for the hereditary Gaelic chief of the McCarthy clan, this takes him to various different countries and into many hilarious adventures. I loved his quirky observational style and the sheer nerve of the man to give anything a go!
September 6, 2025
"I drive out to Allihies, through the village, past the signs saying 'Caution - Old Mineshaft,' and sit on the hilltop above the last of the stone and brick ruins that are all that remain of the mines, temples to copper on an island of saints. I try and imagine how it must have been when this empty mountainside, swaying today with wildflowers, was teeming with industrial life; but I can't. It hardly seems possible. So instead I turn my gaze on the Atlantic, a glacial shade of turquoise-meets-emerald where it pounds the cliffs, and think of the millions who traveled, or were sent, with nothing but hope. And I know what I must do. I will go across the mountain, to my favorite bar in the world, and raise a glass in their memory.
Or two. Maybe I'll have just the two."
With this book, Pete McCarthy might have just made my list of top 5 favorite authors. The stories he weaved in this novel - the stories of Terrence McCarthy, the Young Irelanders (John Mitchel, Francis Meagher, and William Smith O'Brien) and the mysterious James McCarthy - while unrelated, speak measures of the tenacity and spirit of man.
McCarthy treats every topic he tackles with the respect that it deserves. Whether it's the possible defrauding of people by Terrence McCarthy, the horrors suffered by transported prisoners in Tasmania, the volcanic eruption on Montserrat, or the hard living chosen by hundreds in Butte, Montana and McCarthy, Alaska - you can tell this is a man who respects not just the topics at hand, but the people that are wrapped in the subjects. He blends the historical stories with the modern stories to create a picture of these countries you can't truly get when you focus on one or the other.
This is a truly brilliant book, and my platitudes don't give it half the respect it deserves.
Or two. Maybe I'll have just the two."
With this book, Pete McCarthy might have just made my list of top 5 favorite authors. The stories he weaved in this novel - the stories of Terrence McCarthy, the Young Irelanders (John Mitchel, Francis Meagher, and William Smith O'Brien) and the mysterious James McCarthy - while unrelated, speak measures of the tenacity and spirit of man.
McCarthy treats every topic he tackles with the respect that it deserves. Whether it's the possible defrauding of people by Terrence McCarthy, the horrors suffered by transported prisoners in Tasmania, the volcanic eruption on Montserrat, or the hard living chosen by hundreds in Butte, Montana and McCarthy, Alaska - you can tell this is a man who respects not just the topics at hand, but the people that are wrapped in the subjects. He blends the historical stories with the modern stories to create a picture of these countries you can't truly get when you focus on one or the other.
This is a truly brilliant book, and my platitudes don't give it half the respect it deserves.
July 8, 2007
After reading McCarthy's Bar, I couldn't pick this book up quick enough. Pete McCarthy had kept me entertained in that book, and I expected the great writing to continue into this next work. I was not disappointed. The same charm is evident in this book, though it dips into the darker corners of the history of the Irish in Austrailia. All around, it is a very entertaining book.
In this book, McCarthy begins a journey to seek out the head of the McCarthy clan, who surprisingly lives in Morocco. From there he journeys to seek out the Irish diaspora all over the world, from New York to the Carribean to Tazmania.
In this book, McCarthy begins a journey to seek out the head of the McCarthy clan, who surprisingly lives in Morocco. From there he journeys to seek out the Irish diaspora all over the world, from New York to the Carribean to Tazmania.
October 18, 2016
The author embarked on a search for both his Irish clan, as well as the diaspora of the Irish in general. His research took him to Morocco, Tasmania, Alaska, Montserrat, Montana, and NYC. Hilarious! I wish I could write travelogues this well. I learned a lot, too. Like how the Irish were sold into slavery to work the plantations in the Caribbean, and transported to Tasmanian prison camps for little sins like taking a handkerchief. I particularly enjoyed his descriptions of the visits to NYC during the St Patrick's Day parade and to Butte, Montana. Always interesting to see America through the eyes of a foreigner.
May 8, 2017
The late, great Pete McCarthy went searching for his Irish/McCarthy roots in the unlikeliest of places. On the road to McCarthy, Pete delved into the cultures in Morocco, New York City, Tasmania, the Caribbean, Butte, Montana and McCarthy, Alaska. He mixed his travel observations with generous helpings of history, the kind you'll never find in a history book. But Pete's real genius was the humor he could find in any situation; it's there on every page. And unlike some other travelers, he wrote about every uncomfortable circumstance and every unusual person or persons, finding the funny without making fun. A great guy to share a pint with, no doubt. Gone too soon.
August 26, 2009
This book has all my favorite qualitites. Travel, humor, reflection, and completely random facts. Pete's time as a travel memoir writer was short but his legacy is lasting.
I gave this 5 stars becuase I found this book even better then his first one. I recommend it to people who enjoyed McCarthy's Bar or enjoys humorus memiors along the lines of Bill Bryson and A.J Jacobs, have in interest in irish or cultural history, enjoy humorus books, among other qualities.
If you are looking for a book that is all about being 100% relavent, this isn't the book for you.
I gave this 5 stars becuase I found this book even better then his first one. I recommend it to people who enjoyed McCarthy's Bar or enjoys humorus memiors along the lines of Bill Bryson and A.J Jacobs, have in interest in irish or cultural history, enjoy humorus books, among other qualities.
If you are looking for a book that is all about being 100% relavent, this isn't the book for you.
August 10, 2016
Like listening to your grandad tell you his stories this is an affable, aimiable, easy read with no real reason for existing except to make you smile occasions. McCarthy takes you round the world looking at the history and the people behind his surname but with no locgic to the tale he seems to follow the path he was led to one drunken St Patrick 's night and he does it well.
February 2, 2017
What a wonderful, fun book to read. Pete takes us all over the world searching for the McCarthy clan name. Great insights into historical sites. I also recommend all his other books about the McCarthy name and Ireland, all written with great humor. Sadly, Pete died of cancer in 2004. Still his wonderful writings live on.
July 16, 2020
McCarthy's prose reads like Mark Twain's on his best day. I enjoyed this travel adventure full of Irish wit. Glad I'd read McCarthy's Bar first as some of the story melds with this book. A shame Peter died so young.
February 20, 2019
One of my favourite books ever. I actually finished it (the first time) in McCarthy!
April 19, 2021
Another wonderful book from Pete McCarthy, not as funny as the first but just as introspective and moving.
December 31, 2022
Finally finished this mostly entertaining book, it was, at times, too meandering.
July 16, 2021
Interesting read. Was a bit hard to get into at the beginning.
January 15, 2018
While enjoying 'McCarthy's Bar' I ordered ' The Road to McCarthy', because I just could not get enough of Pete McCarthy's wit and tales. In this book he expands on the stories he heard in McCarthy pubs in Ireland and traces his clan near and far around the world, from Morocco, to Alaska to an Australian penal colony to visiting the ' Unrepentant Fenian Bastards' in none other then NYC. I learned Butte, Montana at one time had the highest (by percent) Irish immigrants in the country. New Yorkers and Bostonians may ignore this Irish trivia, but it's a fact. The island of Montserrat also boasts a complicated Irish history, where surnames and customs of the old country still endure. I have so enjoyed Pete McCarthy's travels, but they will be my last as Pete passed on after his second book......
unfamiliar words:
pg. 10 poppet- an endearingly sweet or pretty child or young girl
pg. 10 stroppiness- being bad tempered or bad tempered
pg. 23 fin-de-siede- relating to or characteristic of the end of a century, especially the 19th century:
pg. 29 welter- move in a turbulent fashion
pg. 34 urbs- A walled city in Ancient Rome
pg. 35 rove- travel constantly without a fixed destination; wander
pg. 45 tanistry- the heir apparent to a Celtic chief, typically the most vigorous adult of his kin, elected during the chief's lifetime.
pg. 46 ville nouvelle- A planned urban community designed for self-sufficiency and providing housing, educational, commercial, and recreational facilities for its residents.
pg. 47 djellabahs- a loose hooded cloak, typically woolen, of a kind traditionally worn by Arabs.
pg. 71 shufty- British slang for a look or a peep
pg. 76 boquerones- Spanish; fresh anchovies, floured and joined together by making a small incision at the tail of one and slipping the tails of 3 or 4 others through. Fried in the shape of a fan.
pg. 76 pogged- when you have eaten too much, and are really full.
pg. 78 agitprop- political (originally communist) propaganda, especially in art or literature:
pg. 130 uillean- an Irish bagpipe with air supplied by a bellows held under and worked by the elbow
pg. 137 barmy- another term for balmy.
pg. 159 kedgeree- no sure which definition fits....
an Indian dish consisting chiefly of rice, lentils, onions, and eggs.
a European dish consisting chiefly of fish, rice, and hard-boiled eggs.
pg. 162 abstemious- not self-indulgent, especially when eating and drinking
pg. 183 coulized- A liquid or sauce made with ingredients, such as fruits or vegetables, that have typically been puréed and strained to create a thick sauce-like consistency
pg. 191 tussocky- adjective form of tusscock- a small area of grass that is thicker or longer than the grass growing around it.
pg. 242 spangly- adjective form of spangle- a small thin piece of glittering material, typically used in quantity to ornament a dress; a sequin.
pg. 253 dross- something regarded as worthless; rubbish
pg. 272 oleaginous- rich in, covered with, or producing oil; oily or greasy.
pg. 308 poppadoms- n South Asian cuisine, a fried or roasted plate-sized wafer made from bean flour, eaten as an appetizer or a side dish
unfamiliar words:
pg. 10 poppet- an endearingly sweet or pretty child or young girl
pg. 10 stroppiness- being bad tempered or bad tempered
pg. 23 fin-de-siede- relating to or characteristic of the end of a century, especially the 19th century:
pg. 29 welter- move in a turbulent fashion
pg. 34 urbs- A walled city in Ancient Rome
pg. 35 rove- travel constantly without a fixed destination; wander
pg. 45 tanistry- the heir apparent to a Celtic chief, typically the most vigorous adult of his kin, elected during the chief's lifetime.
pg. 46 ville nouvelle- A planned urban community designed for self-sufficiency and providing housing, educational, commercial, and recreational facilities for its residents.
pg. 47 djellabahs- a loose hooded cloak, typically woolen, of a kind traditionally worn by Arabs.
pg. 71 shufty- British slang for a look or a peep
pg. 76 boquerones- Spanish; fresh anchovies, floured and joined together by making a small incision at the tail of one and slipping the tails of 3 or 4 others through. Fried in the shape of a fan.
pg. 76 pogged- when you have eaten too much, and are really full.
pg. 78 agitprop- political (originally communist) propaganda, especially in art or literature:
pg. 130 uillean- an Irish bagpipe with air supplied by a bellows held under and worked by the elbow
pg. 137 barmy- another term for balmy.
pg. 159 kedgeree- no sure which definition fits....
an Indian dish consisting chiefly of rice, lentils, onions, and eggs.
a European dish consisting chiefly of fish, rice, and hard-boiled eggs.
pg. 162 abstemious- not self-indulgent, especially when eating and drinking
pg. 183 coulized- A liquid or sauce made with ingredients, such as fruits or vegetables, that have typically been puréed and strained to create a thick sauce-like consistency
pg. 191 tussocky- adjective form of tusscock- a small area of grass that is thicker or longer than the grass growing around it.
pg. 242 spangly- adjective form of spangle- a small thin piece of glittering material, typically used in quantity to ornament a dress; a sequin.
pg. 253 dross- something regarded as worthless; rubbish
pg. 272 oleaginous- rich in, covered with, or producing oil; oily or greasy.
pg. 308 poppadoms- n South Asian cuisine, a fried or roasted plate-sized wafer made from bean flour, eaten as an appetizer or a side dish
February 11, 2016
It all starts when the author hears that there is still a king of the McCarthy clan. Not everyone agrees that this is a legitimate title but he wants to meet him. The king is hard to find - enemies probably - and lives in Morocco. From there, Pete McCarthy is off to follow the Irish diaspora. He is half-Irish and half-English and grew up in England. His English accent is sometimes a problem in discussions in the most Irish of strongholds.
After Tangiers he travels to New York and attempts to crash the St. Patrick's Day parade. Then it is off to Monserrat, a small island in the Caribbean that was populated by a large amount of Irish people before an erupting volcano decimated the population. He follows the travels of Irish republicans who were exiled to Tasmania. A few escaped and one became the governor of Montana so it is off to Butte. Finally he goes into the wilderness to McCarthy Alaska to see a town named after the family.
The tone of the book reminds me a lot of Bill Bryson. It is chatty with a lot of history thrown in but in bite sized pieces with the absurd facts pointed out.
In New York:
"Fitness is an overrated virtue in a law enforcement officer. In their way these guys are much more menacing. They're putting out a subliminal message: 'Don't run away. We can't chase you, so we'll have to shoot.'"
"This is what tourists do all over the world. You see a sign for something you've never heard of and probably wouldn't cross the road to see at home, and, bang, you're there. And then people tell you about other things you ought to go and see. Once you're in a small obscure are that the rest of the world knows nothing about someone will say, 'Our big attraction is Satan's Drain. You really should go.' So you do. And you develop an interest in geological features and sea levels and all sorts of other stuff you've never cared about before..."
"There are few more comforting experiences for the traveler than to journey great distances through unfamiliar and threatening landscapes, anticipating an austere and possibly squalid destination, only to discover that catering and interior design are not in the hands of heterosexuals."
This is a great introduction to Irish history and the influence that the Irish people have had around the world.
May 1, 2011
Honestly, when I first started this book, I didn't really like it. I thought the whole entire first section on Morocco was incredibly dull. In fact, I'm fairly certain I would have just tossed this book aside if not for the fact that I was in the middle of a long vacation, had already finished two of the other books I'd brought, and that the other book I had is a bit on the somber side. Hurray for lack of options!
I think the main problem with this book is that the author didn't seem to really know what the point was. Therefore, I was unclear on the point. Was he traveling the world looking for/talking to people with the same last name as him (McCarthy)? Or was he traveling the world to view all of the places that have a strong Irish connection? It seemed a bit murky. Therefore, the book came off somewhat disjointed.
Even so, I persevered, and McCarthy seems to have hit his stride in Tasmania. Basically, I really enjoyed the middle of this book. Ireland/Morocco where he started was blah. New York perked me up. Tasmania, Montserrat, Montana, and Alaska were excellent. Ireland, where he ended, was ok. This book is just hit and miss.
However, I can't rate it any lower because the parts I did enjoy, I REALLY enjoyed. I especially liked Tasmania and, much to my surprise, Alaska. There were parts in each of those sections that were not only beautiful, but downright touching. Also, once I got past the disastrous Morocco section, I actually found McCarthy rather funny, which helped. And he did provide a lot of information that I personally had been unfamiliar with before. For example, did you know that one of the "Young Irelanders" (famous Irish freedom fighters) later became one of the governors of Montana? Small world!
I would really only recommend this book if you have a particular interest in Irish history or in some of the more remote places of the world.
I think the main problem with this book is that the author didn't seem to really know what the point was. Therefore, I was unclear on the point. Was he traveling the world looking for/talking to people with the same last name as him (McCarthy)? Or was he traveling the world to view all of the places that have a strong Irish connection? It seemed a bit murky. Therefore, the book came off somewhat disjointed.
Even so, I persevered, and McCarthy seems to have hit his stride in Tasmania. Basically, I really enjoyed the middle of this book. Ireland/Morocco where he started was blah. New York perked me up. Tasmania, Montserrat, Montana, and Alaska were excellent. Ireland, where he ended, was ok. This book is just hit and miss.
However, I can't rate it any lower because the parts I did enjoy, I REALLY enjoyed. I especially liked Tasmania and, much to my surprise, Alaska. There were parts in each of those sections that were not only beautiful, but downright touching. Also, once I got past the disastrous Morocco section, I actually found McCarthy rather funny, which helped. And he did provide a lot of information that I personally had been unfamiliar with before. For example, did you know that one of the "Young Irelanders" (famous Irish freedom fighters) later became one of the governors of Montana? Small world!
I would really only recommend this book if you have a particular interest in Irish history or in some of the more remote places of the world.
February 20, 2013
I enjoyed this book more than I liked it. Much, much more.
Peter McCarthy wrote with a combination of wit and candour few writers can master. If I were to count, I'm sure he averaged one self-deprecating, hilarious, and often poignant, observation per page. Hilarious does not do full justice.
The book deals with Pete McCarthy's travels on a quest to retrace the roots of the McCarthy clan or Ireland's history, or something, I think. I'm not sure. He starts off in Tangier and (I have the suspicion he returns to England first) then goes to Australia and the Caribbean and Alaska and Montana and some pubs in Cork.
For the first half of the book I tried to keep up with Pete's trek. I did, honestly. But then it just became too much and I stopped caring. I stopped caring about the characters and the places. Too many of each.
I also think at one point he got distracted and his quest for McCarthy history intersected the story of a guy called Meagher and some young Irish dissidents who did jail time in Tasmania. Or maybe I got distracted and missed the one paragraph that held the book together, and nothing really made a lot of sense. But I didn't care; I kept on reading. Voraciously. The writing is THAT good and the turns of phrase THAT funny.
Strange thing: Highly memorable individual sentences, completely forgettable story.
Oh, yes, and I'd love to visit Alaska.
Peter McCarthy wrote with a combination of wit and candour few writers can master. If I were to count, I'm sure he averaged one self-deprecating, hilarious, and often poignant, observation per page. Hilarious does not do full justice.
The book deals with Pete McCarthy's travels on a quest to retrace the roots of the McCarthy clan or Ireland's history, or something, I think. I'm not sure. He starts off in Tangier and (I have the suspicion he returns to England first) then goes to Australia and the Caribbean and Alaska and Montana and some pubs in Cork.
For the first half of the book I tried to keep up with Pete's trek. I did, honestly. But then it just became too much and I stopped caring. I stopped caring about the characters and the places. Too many of each.
I also think at one point he got distracted and his quest for McCarthy history intersected the story of a guy called Meagher and some young Irish dissidents who did jail time in Tasmania. Or maybe I got distracted and missed the one paragraph that held the book together, and nothing really made a lot of sense. But I didn't care; I kept on reading. Voraciously. The writing is THAT good and the turns of phrase THAT funny.
Strange thing: Highly memorable individual sentences, completely forgettable story.
Oh, yes, and I'd love to visit Alaska.
August 11, 2014
McCarthy has the luck of the Irish - must be his mother's side - at least when it came to finding interesting people and getting a good story out of them. No doubt his self-effacing attitude and sense of humor help. They certainly shine through in this book as his travels ranges from Ireland to Alaska, Morocco to Tasmania - just about anywhere, in short, that you can find the name McCarthy. It's a dangerous book to read right before a trip (or anytime at all, come to think of it) because it makes you want to go, go, go!
I enjoyed this read very much. That being said, I liked McCarthy's Bar: A Journey of Discovery In Ireland more; it had a greater sense of place, and more cohesion. Sometimes it feels like Pete's stretching for the craic a bit too much, and his paranoid flights of imagination (about the wildlife, the authorities and the locals) become predictable after the first few pages. He's playing a well-worn character for us, and while it works for the most part, it also feels put-on.
But I still recommend it. I wish he'd written more books before passing in 2004.
I enjoyed this read very much. That being said, I liked McCarthy's Bar: A Journey of Discovery In Ireland more; it had a greater sense of place, and more cohesion. Sometimes it feels like Pete's stretching for the craic a bit too much, and his paranoid flights of imagination (about the wildlife, the authorities and the locals) become predictable after the first few pages. He's playing a well-worn character for us, and while it works for the most part, it also feels put-on.
But I still recommend it. I wish he'd written more books before passing in 2004.
September 10, 2015
In visiting various parts of the world (Tangiers, New York City, Tasmania, Montana, Montserrat) in a semi-serious quest to seek out the Irish whence they flew (usually involuntarily) from the Emerald Isle, McCarthy has crafted one of the funniest, perceptive, sympathetic travel books I've read (of the 5 places, I know Tasmania and Montana). A keen and sensitive observer of his surroundings and the humanity who people it, like P.J. O'Rourke and Bill Bryson, he brings a stylish diction, a mirthful eye and a love of the well-turned phrase to his story. Rarely does he deviate from a non-stop litany of humourous barbs, jaundiced comments and extravagant metaphors often becoming self-deprecating. This passage is typical:
"There's a fierce buzz of chat and I'm the only one with no one to talk to, so I lean on the bar and read the paper, pausing occasionally to look at my wrist as if I'm expecting somebody to arrive at any moment and engage me in conversation that'll be just as good as the ones they're all having. Unfortunately I'm not wearing a watch, so I probably look as if I'm checking whether the skin infection is getting any worse, which would explain why I'm on my own in the first place."
This is a very funny book, densely packed with laughs. A most enjoyable read.
"There's a fierce buzz of chat and I'm the only one with no one to talk to, so I lean on the bar and read the paper, pausing occasionally to look at my wrist as if I'm expecting somebody to arrive at any moment and engage me in conversation that'll be just as good as the ones they're all having. Unfortunately I'm not wearing a watch, so I probably look as if I'm checking whether the skin infection is getting any worse, which would explain why I'm on my own in the first place."
This is a very funny book, densely packed with laughs. A most enjoyable read.
February 5, 2013
Having read McCarthy's bar sometime ago and enjoyed it I was looking forward to this. Pete McCarthy writes a wry set of observations on people and places and when his focus was set on the bars of Ireland it worked well. This book however was larger and more sprawling and, I think as a result, lost some focus.
It took quite a while to gain a vague inkling as to what his theme was, that of tracing the spread of the Irish people across the globe. But this was mixed in with the search for the McCarthy Mor (kind of ceremonial clan chief - allegedly) and McCarthy's own search for identity. As a result there was no strong sense of direction (odd for what is ostensibly a travel book). That is not to say that the individual vignettes were not enjoyable. He manages to find out some fascinating characters and has a keen eye for the absurd. His encounters with a variety of wildlife around the globe are usually hilarious.
Despite this I really felt like I had no real sense of the story on completion. The final chapter sort of fizzled out without any conclusion.
On the whole an entertaining diversion but not a 'must read'.
It took quite a while to gain a vague inkling as to what his theme was, that of tracing the spread of the Irish people across the globe. But this was mixed in with the search for the McCarthy Mor (kind of ceremonial clan chief - allegedly) and McCarthy's own search for identity. As a result there was no strong sense of direction (odd for what is ostensibly a travel book). That is not to say that the individual vignettes were not enjoyable. He manages to find out some fascinating characters and has a keen eye for the absurd. His encounters with a variety of wildlife around the globe are usually hilarious.
Despite this I really felt like I had no real sense of the story on completion. The final chapter sort of fizzled out without any conclusion.
On the whole an entertaining diversion but not a 'must read'.
March 14, 2013
A real loss to British humourous journalism and travel writing. On a par with Bryson in most respects but someone you'd probably enjoy sharing a pint with more than the American. Even though I'd be quite happy to yarn away with the thunderbolt kid. A great loss to us all. This is the better of the two McCarthy books he wrote and it's laugh out loud good. He slips the knife in so neatly on the very deserving if less aware. Don't get this book on Audible though. I'd enjoyed reading it so much I thought it would brighten up a journey or two. The reader is everything the book isn't and vice versa. The humour is in the accumulated wisdom of the writer. The audio book reader , to put it politely, lacks this wisdom just as he lacks a sense of comic timing and the ability to do accents or believable characters. Do however, read the book.
August 12, 2020
McCarthy is a gifted travel writer and this book was very lively and very funny. He is clearly at his best in company with people. He loves to hear stories, many of them apocryphal and some of characters he meets on his travels are priceless. That these people are clearly exaggerated for comic purposes is of little consequence because it renders the book very close to fiction at times. One gets a tremendous sense of place from McCarthy's writing - one could imagine the seediness of Tangier or the stark beauty of New Zealand's South Island. Only Bill Bryson is funnier than McCarthy, but his humour, wry and understated as it is, is far removed from McCarthy's slapstick. A book well worth reading more than once.
September 2, 2009
Another hilarious outing by the late Pete McCarthy, whose McCarthy's Bar was a great find on our trip to Ireland. In this book, rather than making sure to enter every bar with his name on it in Ireland, McCarthy travels around the globe to visit locations with his name on them, including Tangier, New York City, Tasmania, Montserrat, Montana, and Alaska among others. McCarthy is a very funny writer and a charming travel companion who provides much interesting historical perspective and detail of the Irish diaspora on the trip.
January 28, 2017
To be fair I did not read the original McCarthy Bar. The stories he tells in this book were interesting in themselves. you get a feel for the place and people. I enjoyed the humor. I got through his visit to Morrocco, New York, and Tasmania. But overall i never got interested in the whole point. it felt like he went to these places, met some people, saw some interesting things, and then went to the next place. Nothing tied it together or made me want to find out what happened next. So in the end, I just stopped reading.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 10, 2009
Part history, part travel writing memoir. The author travels around to various parts of the world where Irish emigrants have settled. His travels take him to places like Tasmania, Tangiers, New York City, Montana, and Alaska. An interesting book with wry humor. Fans of Bill Bryson's books or 'Round Ireland with a Fridge would enjoy this book. I plan to go back and read McCarthy's first book, McCarthy's Bar.
December 30, 2009
Funny although not the most hilarious book I've ever read. Since I share last names with the author and know very little about the McCarthy side of the family, it was well worth the read and I would recommend for other McCarthys. Also interesting insight into where all the Irish went after leaving Ireland - including some not so obvious places such as Montana. Some good stories about how England used Australia as a penal colony...
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