 | At sixty-six, Tom Kettle, seems to be spending his retirement like a much older man, avoiding thought or action apart from revelling in his memories of his wife and children and staring out to sea. When two young former colleagues from the Dublin Constabulary come to solicit his opinion on a case they are investigating, he does his best to host them in his tiny flat attached to a castle but is clearly overwhelmed. |
Despite the gorgeous prose, this reader was also slightly overwhelmed in the early chapters and – whisper it – even a little bored. The timeline seems confusing, although I worked out it was set in the 90s, and we often don’t know what’s real. But it turns out that that’s an accurate reflection of the character’s mental state.
Tom has some kind of unspecified dementia coupled with hallucinations but is managing – just – to live alone. Coupled with this cognitive decline, he’s been damaged by childhood abuse as a survivor of an Irish orphanage in the 60s, as was his deceased wife. How he copes, or doesn’t cope, with that is encapsulated in a metaphor of the filthy grill in his kitchen at the beginning of the second chapter (which, I must admit, I didn’t appreciate until I read it a second time):
The grill was a mystery unto itself. Like a damp, evil grotto. He was always meaning to get down on his knees and get it with a cloth and a lash of soap, but maybe the horrors were best left alone, after all this time.
I was deeply moved – who wouldn’t be? – by the poignancy of the Tom and his wife’s marriage, finding joy in each other and endeavouring to give their son and daughter the loving childhood they themselves had been denied. But, for me, the greatest strength of this novel is in its honesty. Like Tom, we all know that dreadful things have happened, and continue to do so, and long to look away. But, while for Tom and for his wife and children there’s no escaping the legacy of trauma, there are still pleasures to be found in this difficult world.
One of my favourite reads so far this year. Read it and see what you think.
Tom has some kind of unspecified dementia coupled with hallucinations but is managing – just – to live alone. Coupled with this cognitive decline, he’s been damaged by childhood abuse as a survivor of an Irish orphanage in the 60s, as was his deceased wife. How he copes, or doesn’t cope, with that is encapsulated in a metaphor of the filthy grill in his kitchen at the beginning of the second chapter (which, I must admit, I didn’t appreciate until I read it a second time):
The grill was a mystery unto itself. Like a damp, evil grotto. He was always meaning to get down on his knees and get it with a cloth and a lash of soap, but maybe the horrors were best left alone, after all this time.
I was deeply moved – who wouldn’t be? – by the poignancy of the Tom and his wife’s marriage, finding joy in each other and endeavouring to give their son and daughter the loving childhood they themselves had been denied. But, for me, the greatest strength of this novel is in its honesty. Like Tom, we all know that dreadful things have happened, and continue to do so, and long to look away. But, while for Tom and for his wife and children there’s no escaping the legacy of trauma, there are still pleasures to be found in this difficult world.
One of my favourite reads so far this year. Read it and see what you think.
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