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Sudden Times
By Dermot Healy
If, as was suggested sometime ago by the esteemed
film critic of the Oisish Sunday Times, Gerry McCarthy, in
his Film Ireland review of Peter Weir’s The Truman Show,
with reference to Kafka and Pynchon, Hitchcock and Cronenberg, that
paranoia was the defining condition of the twentieth century, then
Dermot Healy is up there with the best of them, and is taking this
most terrifying but potentially fruitful of mental states into the
new century as well. For if Pat McCabe’s The Butcher Boy is
more usefully read as being about the disjunction between what is
going on in a boy’s head and what is going on around him, rather
than about what it was like to grow up in Monaghan in the late ‘50s
and early ‘60s, and if Eoin McNamee’s Resurrection Man is
better appreciated as being about them knowing more than
us, and being out to get us too, by trying to rule
us through fear, rather than interpreted as a literary comment
on The Northern Situation, then Sudden Times is about a person
seeking refuge in what society denominates as madness - a la
R. D. Laing and Thomas Szasz - because their experience is too
traumatic to face, rather than about the condition of Irish emigrants
working on London building sites.
Ollie Ewing has returned to his native Sligo from
London and is ‘lying low’, living at the top of a rundown house
with some art students at the Regional Technical College. By day,
he works as a trolley-boy and shelf-stacker in a local supermarket,
by night, he tries to dodge his recurrent nightmares. These centre
almost exclusively, and hardly surprisingly, on the scarifying events
which took place when he was a navvy in London, living in a mobile
home on a vacant lot with his best friend from the old country,
Marty.
The intimacy you once had with someone is hard
to forget at
the beginning. It returns stronger than ever before.
I would say I was not right in the head.
That’s right.
High all the time on sorrow, and low because of
what you
think is being said about you.
...
It all came back. The worst thing is I turned
religious. That
can happen the best of us. I walked to the window
in the hostel
and looked out at the monastery that had not been
inhabited in
over two centuries. In my head I heard beautiful
psalms. This
need of mine for God is a travesty. The traveller
wanted to speak
of Aristotle and I wanted to speak of St Paul.
You’ll get that. You
push too much onto someone.
Marty wound up murdered through his involvement
as a foot-soldier with a sinister protection racket run by the devious
and ruthless Silver John and Scots Bob, who are ostensibly site
foremen. Ollie found Marty dead in the back of his lorry, after
the later had gone off on a ‘business’ trip to Manchester. At least,
he believes it was Marty, since the fact that the body was doused
with acid made identification difficult. Then Ollie’s brother, Redmond,
died of severe burns after a fight with Scots bob. The whole thing
climaxes in a count room cross-examination, which demonstrates the
prejudices and power structures inscribed in legal rhetoric and
practices, and has left Ollie even more disturbed.
The fact that we get the second half of the story
first, back in Sligo, before moving back in time to events in London
for the second half of the book, invites immediate re-reading, as
did Healy’s previous novel, A Goat’s Song. It’s a clever
narrative strategy, as it withholds explanatory information until
its revelation will have most impact, and makes earlier sections
clearer second time around.
With his central acting role in Nicola Bruce’s
extraordinary film of Irish emigrant life in London, I Could
Read The Sky, and his recent direction of Samuel Beckett’s play
Footfalls, to say nothing of his founding and long-time editing
of Force 10 magazine, there would seem to be no end to Healy’s
talents and energy. Let’s hope he keeps up this level of creativity,
for Sudden Times is a worthy addition to an already impressive
body of work.
First published in Books Ireland
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