Tag: Irish

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“Back to Blackbrick” by Sarah Moore Fitzgerald

Cosmo’s grandad is beginning to exhibit the early signs of Alzheimer’s. A team of social workers appear at the house he shares with his grandparents, hoping to test Grandad Kevin’s memory. If he doesn’t pass this memory test, Grandad will be dispatched to a nursing home. Cosmo is particularly close to his grandparents after his brother’s death and his mother’s subsequent move to Australia, leaves him living in their house. Desperate to help, he follows his grandad’s garbled instructions and uses an ancient key to let himself into Blackbrick Abbey. As soon as he steps through the gates, Cosmo is transported back in time. He meets his grandad as a young boy and gets caught up in a 70-year-old adventure, meeting the people who shaped his grandad’s life. As he plunges deeper and deeper into the strange world of Blackbrick, Cosmo continues to take extensive notes on the past, intending to use these notes to help Grandad Kevin pass his memory test. At the risk of giving away too many spoilers, I’ll leave my synopsis there.

Irish writer Sarah Moore Fitzgerald drew from her own experiences of her father’s dementia when crafting this beautiful snapshot of the relationship between a young man and his beloved grandad. The depiction of dementia is both accurate and shot through with moments of genuine humour and humanity. There are some genuine laugh out loud moments here and also a few scenes which moved me to tears. Grandad Kevin is far from being the stereotype often encountered in dementia narratives. And whilst the magical elements in the book bring a touch of whimsy and other worldliness to the story, at no point does Moore Fitzgerald shy away from confronting the harsher realities of watching a loved one journey with dementia. This, at heart, is a realist novel with a subtle element of the fantastical. 

Back to Blackbrick is full of wonderful, well-crafted and memorable characters and the plot kept me gripped from start to finish. I’d thoroughly recommend it for late primary and early high school readers who enjoy funny, adventure-filled novels. It also offers a great opportunity to introduce themes around dementia and begin important conversations on this subject with younger kids.

Back to Blackbrick was published by Orion Children’s Books in 2013 

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“An Unravelling” by Elske Rahill

Irish author, Elske Rahill’s second novel is an epic beast. It follows the lives of four generations of women in a large family, over a particularly turbulent period. Molly is the matriarch of the family. She’s in her eighties and very much focused upon helping her granddaughters, Cara and Freya bring up their young children. Molly is the wealthy widow of a famous Irish artist and as her life draws to a close she looks back on her childhood and early marriage and also becomes increasingly concerned with how she’ll provide for her granddaughters and great grandchildren after her death. Molly has a substantial estate and is closer to the younger generation than her own three daughters. When her health fails and Molly begins to develop dementia, issues concerning the will and financial provision threaten to tear the family apart.

Rahill is a beautiful writer. Her prose is rich and full of poetic imagery. An Unravelling is quite a long, slow read but I appreciated the way it took its time to get underneath the characters’ skin, bringing each of the women to life for the reader. Molly, in particular, is incredibly well-written. This is a character living with dementia who has both a past and a meaningful present. She is an essential part of her granddaughters’ lives, full of warmth and wit and humour. Rahill tracks her unravelling with great care. Molly’s language and meandering reminiscences perfectly convey both the dementia experience and an inherent respect for this dignified and forthright character.

I also appreciated the deep dive Rahill takes into the practicalities of dementia care. This is a novel which very much explores the unpleasant world of finances in regards to healthcare provision and inheritance. It’s something I’ve often heard talked about but rarely see reflected in dementia narratives. Molly’s own mental unravelling mirrors the unravelling of her family as they let issues surrounding finances pull them apart. An Unravelling is a book about women within a family unit; the bonds they form and how these bonds are placed under strain. It’s a wonderful, immersive read and another great addition to the canon of Irish dementia narratives. I would highly recommend.

An Unravelling was published by Head of Zeus in 2019 

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Book Reviews

“The Visiting Hour” by Frank McGuinness

This brand new play by Frank McGuinness is absolutely bang up to date. Set in a residential care facility during the Covid 19 pandemic it explores the impact of Lockdown upon older people and their loved ones. The Visiting Hour takes place over the single hour in a week when a woman is permitted to visit with her elderly father. Tight restrictions are in place and she is not allowed to enter the building and must communicate with her father whilst perched on a window outside his room. At intervals an announcement reminds her not to outstay her welcome. Only one hour is permitted for each visitor. These restrictions serve to disorientate the father who is in the early stages of dementia and already showing signs of confusion. He isn’t too sure who his daughter is, when or where they are. The Covid restrictions thoroughly baffle him. He can’t understand why his daughter is shouting at him through a window or why she can only stay for an hour. For many people who’ve visited a loved one in a nursing home, hospital, residential care facility or even in isolation at home during the Pandemic these scenes will be painfully familiar. It is heartening to see how writers are already beginning to explore how Lockdown restrictions have impacted the elderly and particularly those living with dementia.

Over the course of the hour the father and daughter banter about events from the past. It is unclear whether these incidents have actually happened or are fabricated anecdotes the father likes to recount. The line between real and unreal is blurred throughout. The two protagonists talk and argue, laugh and even sing together, revealing a profound connection and a degree of fondness. In some ways they seem dependent upon each other. Though the daughter is now looking out for her ageing father’s physical and mental wellbeing, the play reveals how in the past he has cared for her. The Visiting Hour is very much a contemporary play; poignant, recognisable and scarily relevant. In a very gentle, subtle way it asks big questions in regards to how isolation and loneliness, particularly during the Pandemic years, will negatively impact upon our older people. It’s also a beautiful and honest portrait of the relationship between a father and his daughter and how this sort of relationship evolves and changes with time.

The Visiting Hour was published by Faber and Faber in 2021.

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“Krapp’s Last Tape and Other Short Plays” by Samuel Beckett

I’m a little hesitant about adding these short Becket plays to our list of dementia narratives. I doubt that Beckett intended them to be read as an insight into dementia, though his work leaves itself so intriguingly open for interpretation I can’t imagine that he’d be surprised by this particular approach. It’s a long time since I last saw Krapp’s Last Tape performed but as I’ve been reading through dementia novels and plays over the last few months it has frequently come to mind. It is essentially a short play about an old man remembering back over his life. He relistens to tapes he’s recorded of himself at various younger stages and then amends and adapts these memories based upon how he now views the experiences he’s been through. As a metaphor for how memory evolves, fractures and repeats within the mind of a person living with dementia, I think it’s stunningly accurate. The old man’s fleeting awareness of what he’s doing, trawling through these tapes of his former life always reminds me of the Robert Frost poem, “An Old Man’s Winter Night,” and, in particular, the lines, 

What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him—at a loss.

Beckett’s characters with all their physical limitations and constraints seem incredibly familiar when considered in light of how ageing and indeed dementia can impact a person’s physicality.

Having re-read Krapp’s Last Tape, I progressed on to other short plays by Beckett and couldn’t help but see a possible dementia reading in many of these pieces. Memory and age are a frequent theme in Beckett’s work, as is confusion around issues of identity, repetition and the passage of time. To be honest, though these texts don’t claim to be dementia narratives, and I’m not too sure whether they’ve been considered as such before, Beckett’s use of language comes the closest I’ve seen in print text to conveying the sense of both internal confusion and linguistic disruption which occurs during the later stage of dementia. Take this section from That Time, for example: 

When you started not knowing who you were from Adam trying how that would work for a change not knowing who you were from Adam no notion who it was saying what you were saying what you were saying whose skull you were clapped up in whose moan had you the way you were.

I’ve read multiple verbatim transcripts of people living with dementia which sound incredibly similar to this and other sections of Beckett’s plays where phrases are repeated, sentences fractured and narratives disarranged and devolved until they lose their sense. I’m now intrigued. Am off to read some of Beckett’s longer plays to see how they stand up as dementia texts. 

Krapp’s Last Tape and Other Plays was published by Faber and Faber in 2009. 

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Book Reviews

“Bailegangaire” by Tom Murphy

Mommo is an elderly Irish woman living with dementia, although Tom Murphy characterises her as senile. This is likely to be a reflection on both when the play is set and when it was written. Mommo lives in a small, rural cottage and is cared for by her granddaughter Mary, who is a trained nurse. Mary is fed up with her isolated lifestyle. She has little company except for Mommo who repeats the same story every night. Every so often Mary and Mommo are visited by Mary’s sister Dolly, who’s also trapped in the life she’s created for herself. As the play opens we find all three women on the cusp of a new kind of existence.

Dolly is pregnant and trying to convince her sister to pass the baby off as her own. Dolly’s husband is working in England long term and she’s having another man’s child. If she can convince Mary to take responsibility for the baby before her husband returns at Christmas, he’ll be none the wiser about her affairs. Mary is hoping to leave her caring responsibilities behind. She’s looking forward to starting out again, independently, away from home. She’s convinced that if she can get Mommo to finally finish telling her story of a laughing competition -set in the town of Bailengangaire (‘the town without laughter’)- she’ll be free of her past and able to make a fresh start elsewhere.

Murphy’s characterisation of Mommo is incredibly rich. The language and dialogue employed in her repeated story is particularly distinctive and it’s refreshing to see such a believable and captivating portrayal of a working class, rural Irish woman. The dialogue and repetitive linguistic tics are worth reading for alone. I also really appreciated the way Murphy explores the weight and responsibility of caring for an elderly relative in a rural place. Mary’s experience feels both claustrophobic and isolating and, although it would have negative implications for Mommo, it’s hard not to root for her escape. Finally, I loved the humour in this play. All three women banter off each other. Mary and Dolly even use the tics in their grandmother’s language to gently take the piss out of her. They can be harsh enough in how they speak to each other and yet there’s a raw kind of fondness permeating their relationship. I’d love a chance to see this play performed.

Bailegangaire was published by Methuen in 2001. 

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Book Reviews

“Ten Days” by Austin Duffy

Irish novelist, Austin Duffy’s second novel, Ten Days is mostly set in New York. Photographer, Wolf is visiting the city with his daughter Ruth so she can take part in her late mother’s family’s celebration of the ten High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The visit will culminate in a ceremony to scatter Miriam’s ashes over the Hudson River. Miriam has recently passed away after a short battle with cancer. Though, at the time, separated from Wolf, she’d asked her husband to return to the family home so they could be together for the last few weeks. She’s also left him strict instructions concerning both her funeral arrangements and plans for Ruth to be part of the extended family’s holiday celebrations in New York. Wolf is neither Jewish nor in the family’s good books. They rightly judge him for his treatment of Miriam. He feels excluded from the celebrations and yet continues to persevere with his in-laws. It’s essential that his daughter is accepted and feels at home within the family.

Wolf has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Though he doesn’t tell his wife or daughter, he’s made an elaborate plan to provide for Ruth when he can no longer look after her. He’s booked one way tickets from London for both of them. The novel implies that Wolf intends to kill himself in America, whilst he’s arranged for Ruth to move in with her Jewish in-laws in New York. I’ll not give any spoilers away but it’s enough to say his plan doesn’t work out quite as he’d intended. The novel ends a little differently from how I’d expected and ultimately I was grateful for this.

I loved Ten Days. I loved the writing. It’s sharp, well-crafted and pacey. It’s very much a city novel and there’s a definite urban tightness to the way it’s written. I loved the depictions of Jewish culture and the way they’re seamlessly woven through the book. I also loved the occasional dips into the world of artists and musicians -some real, some fabricated- which Wolf has built his career around.

Duffy’s penned a great depiction of strained relationships, put under further pressure by the increasing confusion Wolf’s experiencing. He’s not particularly close to his daughter. He’s been ostracised by his in-laws. And yet he’s trying his best to prepare for their future together, even as he begins to forget who they are. There’s a woozy quality to the way Duffy writes dementia. Both time and spatial awareness come in and out of focus, sometimes repeating in a loop. I found this a very effective mode of capturing the dementia experience of a man who’s desperately trying to hold on to his sense of reality. It’s also a novel which explores power and ego. Wolf is a man who’s been used to riding roughshod over others’ feelings; the central section of the novel, where he discovers his mother’s Alzheimer’s, then coldly and pragmatically dispatches her to a nursing home, is quite a hard read. Now, he’s increasingly dependent on other people, some of whom he’s treated poorly in the past. This wasn’t the dementia narrative I was expecting to read. I enjoyed it all the more for that.

Ten days was published by Granta in 2021 

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“There Were No Windows” by Norah Hoult

The acclaimed Irish novelist, Norah Hoult wrote There Were No Windows during the Second World War when she was living in Bayswater, London close to the ageing writer, Violet Hunt. Hoult based her novel’s protagonist, Claire Temple very closely on Violet Hunt: garnering some criticism for how recognisable Hunt was in Temple’s character. The portrait is far from flattering. Claire Temple is a once popular society lady and reasonably successful writer who is now losing her memory. She is paranoid, delusional, frequently confused and often unpleasant to the cook, Kathleen and paid companion, Miss Jones who are now her only company. Outside the house, London is in the grip of the Blitz, with daily air raids, rationing and black out restrictions in place. Claire regularly forgets the War is going on as she drifts between lamenting her loneliness and fantasising about her former high life. Hoult has managed to create an incredibly believable archetypal spinster, (in the vein of Brian Moore’s Judith Hearne). She is not nice enough to evoke the reader’s sympathy but is pathetic enough to seem pitiful. 

The novel was first published in 1944 and is incredibly interesting because, though it doesn’t name Claire’s condition as dementia, it is one of the earliest extended explorations of the illness I’ve managed to come across in fiction. Different characters explain Claire’s behaviour using different terms. She is senile. She is doting. She is frequently called mental. This is hardly surprising. The modern usage of the word dementia is a relatively recent development. Her symptoms suggest early stage dementia. Hoult uses her character’s dialogue and internal thought process to give us a really intriguing insight into how Claire herself feels about her condition. She wanders off in her slippers and suffers from terrible insomnia. She is paranoid that the servants are plotting together and stealing from her. She has almost no short term memory and frequently repeats herself. She is, by the close of the novel, becoming aggressive and increasingly violent. None of the other characters, including the doctor, seem to know quite what to do with her.

As a period piece, There Were No Windows is incredibly useful and enlightening. It gave me a wonderful insight into how dementia was viewed back in the war years. Claire is fortunate enough to have a house and financial resources to utilise. It is likely that without finances, she would have been quickly institutionalised. And yet, her experience is far from pleasant. She has lost autonomy over her body, her finances and her creativity. She is constantly lonely, and particularly misses the intellectual company she was used to. Her staff are rude and dismissive. They don’t attempt to understand her condition. They fluctuate between bullying and infantilising Claire. There were so many moments in this novel when I wished to sit them down and explain why Claire’s dementia was causing her to act out of character. 

There Were No Windows is a stunningly written novel -perhaps even one of Hoult’s best- and I thoroughly enjoyed it as both a piece of fiction and an incredibly believable dementia narrative. There’s still so much more education about dementia which needs to take place but I’m so glad people are no longer quite so ignorant about the illness. Poor Claire’s treatment is horrific and dehumanising. I’m thankful this is no longer the norm.

There Were No Windows was published by Readers Union in 1946

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“Flight” by Oona Frawley

Irish novelist, Oona Frawley’s debut novel Flight is a beautifully observed portrait of four lives intersecting. It’s set just outside Dublin in 2004 as a referendum on citizenship approaches. Sandrine is a pregnant Zimbabwean women who has left her husband and son at home seeking to better herself and ultimately gain citizenship for them all in Ireland. Sandrine finds herself working as a live-in carer for Tom and Claire, a rich retired couple who have lived in Ireland, America and Vietnam, following Tom’s career as a spice importer. Tom is now living with advanced dementia and their daughter Elizabeth hires Sandrine to look after him and also keep an eye on Claire, who is increasingly confused herself. Tom is soon moved to a residential care facility and passes away soon after. Within a few month’s Claire’s conditioned deteriorates in a similar way and she too passes away in a nursing home.

I really enjoyed reading Flight. The prose is so carefully crafted and evocative. As the perspective moves between the protagonists it’s really easy to imagine the same situation as slightly different when seen through their eyes. It’s very much a novel concerned with the idea of memory. Whilst Elizabeth struggles with how she was brought up, flitting between various countries and various homes, Claire longs for Vietnam and the lifestyle of her younger days. As her memories merge and become confused, her senses frequently take her back to Vietnam. Sandrine is also constantly interrogating her understanding of the past and what it means to belong to a place. Thrown together, the big quiet house the three women inhabit, comes to feel like a kind of dream scape where time and reality are both confused. There’s also a sense that the women are struggling to connect. They all seem to be lonely, though they’re constantly together. They don’t seem to know how to communicate with each other. It’s only when Sandrine has her baby that she and Elizabeth finally connect, bonding as equals over the baby and talking honestly about their lives.

As a dementia narrative, Flight is intriguing. There are very few of the common tropes played upon here. Neither Tom nor Claire is prone to wandering. They don’t seem to forget each other or confuse their daughter for someone else. Their journey with dementia is more of a kind of gentle erasure. They are less and less present as the novel progresses. Both pass away calmly in their sleep as if succumbing to the last stage of what’s been a kind of extended dream.

Flight was published by Tramp Press in 2014 

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“Minor Monuments” by Ian Maleney

Minor Monuments is a collection of personal essays by Dublin-based writer Ian Maleney. They’re all set around his family’s small farm on the edge of a bog a few miles from the River Shannon. They explore issues around belonging, place, home, memory and nature and weave together Maleney’s personal experience with his musings on literature, art and, most frequently, sound. Maleney uses sound recordings to capture and explore the landscape of his childhood. Interspersed throughout the essays is the story of his grandfather, John Joe’s diagnosis and experience with Alzheimer’s.

“I wanted to listen hard to his final emergence; to capture his life in the last stage of becoming – to record the person still forming even as he began, contrapuntally, to unravel.”

Minor Monuments follows John Joe right through to his death and funeral. As the older man slowly loses his memories and connections to the landscape, Maleney is questioning his own sense of belonging and how he’s come to think of his home. He spends as much time as he can with John Joe, documenting his stories and paying careful attention to how he interacts with the world around him. At several points in the book, I had the sense that I was encountering a kind of teacher/disciple scenario, with Maleney patiently waiting for his grandfather’s lived inheritance to pass on to him.

“A wake like John Joe’s is not just an opportunity to remember these people and their stories, but also a chance to share and build on those memories, to pass them on and to bind them closer to the people who are living out their own stories in the same place.”

The prose is neat and sparse but imbued with warmth. It’s like reading someone’s meandering thoughts as they pick their way through a difficult time. It’s impossible not to imagine the two men -one old, one young- sat together companionably, their very different world experiences stretching between them, their mutual fondness apparent throughout. This is such a gentle book. It’s deeply respectful and extremely attentive, as you might expect from a writer used to recording sound.

I also deeply appreciated the portrayal of a rural, working man with dementia. It’s rare to see this character portrayed in literature and yet I frequently come across older men and women, like John Joe, who develop dementia whilst living in farmhouses and on land that’s been in their family for generations. For these people, a move to residential care can be nothing short of earthshattering. They are intrinsically bound to their land.

I love this book. It was my favourite non-fiction read of 2019 and I’ve pressed it upon many people since then. Maleney writes with honesty and tenderness, always holding his grandfather as an equal. There’s an awful lot of wisdom in both what he writes and how he writes it. These essays are rich with humility.

Minor Monuments was published by Tramp Press in 2019

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“The Summer of Lily and Esme” by John Quinn

It’s the summer between Primary and Secondary School and everything’s changing for Alan. His parents have moved the family out of Dublin and bought an old house in a village in the country. At first Alan thinks he’ll be isolated and lonely with no one around to play with. However, within days of the move he’s stumbled upon the two old ladies who live in the cottage next door. Lily and Esme are twins. Although they’re extremely elderly now, they still believe themselves to be little girls and instantly mistake Alan for a young boy they used to play with, who died tragically on the day of their tenth birthday party. With the help of his new friend Lisa and a bunch of friendly locals, Alan works hard to piece together the mystery of what happened, the summer Albert died. There is talk of ghosts, a lot of laughter and a clandestine adventure to the local circus. Thanks to Alan’s efforts, Lily and Esme have the best summer of their lives and Alan himself learns a lot about friendship and the importance of community.

This is a gorgeous novel aimed at upper Primary school aged children. It never mentions the word Dementia though it’s clear from the outset that both the twins are living with the condition. They’re confused and frequently forgetful. They muddle their memories up with the present and are cared for by a stern live-in carer whom they’ve nicknamed Badger. Quinn does a fantastic job of capturing what their condition seems like to a young boy and, through Alan’s responses, painting a really compelling picture of what it looks like to befriend and accept a person living with Dementia and actually benefit from this relationship. A few of the references are a little dated. The Summer of Lily and Esme was clearly written in a pre-Internet age and yet this doesn’t stop it from being utterly charming and compelling. It’s a treat to read such a rich Dementia narrative set right here in Ireland. This is a very special book.

The Summer of Lily and Esme was published by Poolbeg Press in 1991