Bernard MacLavertyCritiques

Gerry is a retired architect and lecturer. His wife Stella used to be a teacher. Like the author himself, they are Irish but have lived for a long time in Glasgow. Their marriage is a long-lived one and, to all appearances, they are close and in love. Yet, their relationship is growing hollow, drained by Gerry's alcoholism and Stella's increasing exasperation at his constant criticism of her committed Catholic faith. Things come to a head during a brief stay in Amsterdam - the "Midwinter Break" of the title - where we learn that the marriage is also darkened by the shadow of the Irish troubles.

Reading Bernard MacLaverty is like watching a master craftsman at work. Consider the following description of a busy coffee-shop:

Coffee places were so noisy. This one sounded like they were making the Titanic rather than cups of coffee - the grinder going at maximum volume, screaming on and on - making enough coffee grounds for the whole of Europe while another guy was shooting steam through milk with supersonic hissing. A girl unpacked a dishwasher, clacking plates and saucers into piles. A third barista was banging the metal coffee-holder against the rim of the stainless steel bar to empty it - but doing it with such venom and volume that Gerry jumped at every strike. Talking was impossible. It was so bad he couldn't even hear if there was muzak or not. And still the grinder went on and on trying to reduce a vessel of brown-black beans to dust. Stella had to yell her order.

In a few lines of deceptively simple description, MacLaverty conjures up the scene in uncanny detail, while also giving us an inkling of his protagonists’ thoughts and inner turmoil.

The same keen sense of observation is brought to bear on the couple’s marriage and on the subjects of old age, sectarian violence, alcoholism and faith. These are the catalysts for the couple's drifting apart, even though there is much to show that at heart they do care for each other. As for the author’s attitude towards religion, I liked the fact that, despite no longer being a believer let alone a practising Catholic, he treats Stella’s faith with both understanding and delicacy.

This is, in many ways, a brilliant novel. But be prepared – because of its subjects, I found it also unremittingly bleak

Beautiful short stories, many having to with aging. The characters are imperfect but very sympathetic. I’d like to read more from this guy.

Absolutely terrific collection of short stories written by an under rated Irish author, who has written five other collections that I will definitely be seeking out. (He was also a Booker nominee for a novel at some point.) They were beautifully written, mostly in a staccato fashion, which seemed perfect for the topics covered over different time periods throughout the 20th century. They were all excellent, not a dud among them, but one story that stood out for me was entitled "The End of Days: Vienna 1918" and told the harrowing story of a couple living in Austria during the pandemic, when the pregnant wife, Edi, contracts the virus. Just breathtaking.½

Gerry is a retired architect and lecturer. His wife Stella used to be a teacher. Like the author himself, they are Irish but have lived for a long time in Glasgow. Their marriage is a long-lived one and, to all appearances, they are close and in love. Yet, their relationship is growing hollow, drained by Gerry's alcoholism and Stella's increasing exasperation at his constant criticism of her committed Catholic faith. Things come to a head during a brief stay in Amsterdam - the "Midwinter Break" of the title - where we learn that the marriage is also darkened by the shadow of the Irish troubles.

Reading Bernard MacLaverty is like watching a master craftsman at work. Consider the following description of a busy coffee-shop:

Coffee places were so noisy. This one sounded like they were making the Titanic rather than cups of coffee - the grinder going at maximum volume, screaming on and on - making enough coffee grounds for the whole of Europe while another guy was shooting steam through milk with supersonic hissing. A girl unpacked a dishwasher, clacking plates and saucers into piles. A third barista was banging the metal coffee-holder against the rim of the stainless steel bar to empty it - but doing it with such venom and volume that Gerry jumped at every strike. Talking was impossible. It was so bad he couldn't even hear if there was muzak or not. And still the grinder went on and on trying to reduce a vessel of brown-black beans to dust. Stella had to yell her order.

In a few lines of deceptively simple description, MacLaverty conjures up the scene in uncanny detail, while also giving us an inkling of his protagonists’ thoughts and inner turmoil.

The same keen sense of observation is brought to bear on the couple’s marriage and on the subjects of old age, sectarian violence, alcoholism and faith. These are the catalysts for the couple's drifting apart, even though there is much to show that at heart they do care for each other. As for the author’s attitude towards religion, I liked the fact that, despite no longer being a believer let alone a practising Catholic, he treats Stella’s faith with both understanding and delicacy.

This is, in many ways, a brilliant novel. But be prepared – because of its subjects, I found it also unremittingly bleak

A story about a marriage and coping with trauma. I remember Ireland and the troubles. Seems so long ago but the world has not improved. Having never read books by this author I will read others as his style is interesting

Cathy is hosting #ReadingIrelandMonth at 746 Books, so I hunted through the TBR and found Grace Notes, by Bernard MacLaverty (which had been lurking there since 2010). MacLaverty was born in Belfast, but moved to Glasgow in 1975, and although Wikipedia summarises Grace Notes as a conflict between a desire for creativity and motherhood, I think it’s about more than that. I think it’s also about a desire to escape an intractable conflict which soured every aspect of life in Northern Ireland.

The novel begins with Catherine’s return to Belfast for her father’s funeral after an estrangement of some years. The novel predates the Good Friday Agreement (1998) and though on the bus home she watched the familiar landmarks she used as a child pass one by one, things are not the same in the town.

In the town itself she was surprised to see a Chinese restaurant and a new grey fortress of a police barracks. She stood, ready to get off at her stop. There was something odd about the street. She bent at the knees, crouched to look out at where she used to live. It was hardly recognisable. Shop-fronts were covered in hardboard, the Orange Hall and other buildings bristled with scaffolding. Some roofs were covered in green tarpaulins, others were protected by lath and sheets of polythene.

‘What happened here?’ she asked the bus driver.

‘It got blew up. A bomb in October.’

‘Was anybody hurt?’

‘They gave a warning. The whole place is nothing but a shell.’

She stepped down onto the pavement and felt her knees shake. A place of devastation. (pp.9-10)

Catherine has been living in Glasgow since winning a scholarship and deciding not to come home after graduating. She has been living in safety while her family’s neighbourhood was bombed all around them, and she didn’t even know about it. A vast gulf now separates her from her mother, who, not knowing anything about Catherine’s new life, achievements and responsibilities, is still entertaining hopes that her only child will stay home now. But paradoxically, since it could be bombed at any time, ‘home’ is stasis, predictable, judgemental, rigid and under siege. She grieves for her father despite his flaws; she wishes she could get on better with her mother but she no longer shares her faith nor her values.

In a tense and claustrophobic atmosphere, Part One of the novel traces the brief couple of days of mourning and the funeral, with Catherine trying hard not to react to irritations from her nagging mother, and trying also to work out when and how to tell her mother a piece of news she isn’t going to want to hear.

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2021/03/20/grace-notes-by-bernard-maclaverty/

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Der junge Katholik Cal lebt zum Höhepunkt des Nordirland-Konflikts in einem protestantischen Wohnviertel und erlebt das Misstrauen und den Hass zwischen den Konfessionen am eigenen Leib. Doch auch Cal iselbst ist kein unbeschriebenes Blatt: Wenngleich zunehmend widerwillig, fungiert er bei Anschlägen und Geldbeschaffungsaktionen der I.R.A. als Fahrer. Schließlich verliebt er sich in die Witwe eines Opfers, was sein Leben endgültig aus den Fugen bringt.

Bernard MacLaverty hat mit "Cal" ein großartiges Sittenbild Nordirlands in den frühen 80ern geschaffen. Der Roman trägt viel zum Verständnis des Nordirland-Konfliktes bei, ist aber mehr als ein Buch über die sogenannten "Troubles". "Cal" ist ebenso eine Charakterstudie des Hauptprotagonisten, welcher von Gewissensbissen geplagt und zerissen zwischen (Selbst)hass und Liebe seinen Weg im konfliktbeladenen Ulster sucht. MacLaverty verkehrt in literarisch gekonnten Volten die Oper- und Täterrolle und wirft die Schuldfrage auf, ohne moralisierend zu wirken.

Detailed slow opening of 20 something revisiting home and memory and fathers funeral from whom she was estranged. Kept secret her illegitimate daughter and her music career. Stayed with it but rather bored.

Gerry y Stella Gilmore –una pareja de jubilados irlandeses que vive en Escocia– han decidido pasar un fin de semana largo en Ámsterdam para cambiar de aires. Su relación, aparentemente agradable y segura, transcurre en una apacible rutina. Sin embargo, Gerry tiene un serio problema con el alcohol, al que recurre a diario pensando que Stella desconoce el grado de adicción. Ella lo tolera discretamente, como tolera sus manías y lo que ella percibe como falta de sensibilidad e inquietudes. A medida que el fin de semana avanza, se va haciendo evidente la magnitud de la distancia que les separa y que quizá sea ya insalvable.

Bernard MacLaverty demuestra con esta novela, de enorme ambición en su profundidad y en su minuciosa indagación de las emociones, por qué está considerado uno de los mejores escritores irlandeses actuales.

Un matrimoni ja jubilats van a passar uns dies fora del seu país. A més de visitar Amsterdam recorden diferents fets de la seva vida.

Una pareja de jubilados; el arquitecto y ella profesora hacen un viaje de vacaciones a Amsterdam. Los dos son nordirlandeses que viven en Glasgow desde la época del Ira. En esas vacaciones ella quiere cumplir una promesa que él desconoce.
Es una historia sencilla y muy bien contada. Da gusto leer libros con tanta sabiduría.
Teia 13/11/2019.

Having criticised literary fiction in my last review, rather to my surprise I really enjoyed this novel! The minute detail that it is written in could have been very annoying but I didn't find it so. In fact the observational detail was part of its pleasure for me - the ritual detail of what we all do when on holiday! It made me smile in recognition at several points. And the detail of a close relationship - which in this case is a marriage but could be with any close family member. Expected to dislike this novel but didn't.

Een ouder echtpaar, wonend in Glasgow, gaat een weekend naar Amsterdam. Zij wil zich oriënteren op een nieuw leven, in dienst van de medemens, om de belofte in te lossen die zij deed toen zij in Belfast, waar ze vroeger woonde, werd neergeschoten terwijl ze hoogzwanger was. Wonder boven wonder bleef het kind leven en dus moest ze dan eindelijk die belofte inlossen. Het loopt op niets uit (er zijn geen begijnen meer op het Begijnhof) en bovendien heeft misschien haar man, die nogal aan de drank is, haar nodig. En die begint te beseffen dat hij toch echt wel een probleem heeft.
Jammer dat het boek zo slecht vertaald is! Steeds blijf je steken in zinnen die niet lopen en ja, als je als vertaler niet eens weet dat een "grand piano" een "vleugel" is i.p.v. een "grote piano"...

Gerry and Stella, an older Irish couple, take a long weekend break to Amsterdam. For Stella it's a purposeful trip to investigate the potential of a life-changing decision she wants to make, spurred on by Gerry's relentless heavy drinking.

I was a little disappointed by this novel. MacLaverty writes in quite a bleak style, and whilst I'm quite up for a good dollop of angst in a novel I find hopelessness much harder to tolerate. He also has a style that involves commenting on every minutiae of what his characters are doing, which I grew weary of from time to time.

My other irk was that I didn't like the fairly one-sided portrayal of the Troubles in the novel. Given that he'd decided to place his characters as now living in Scotland (mirroring his own life), I felt the backdrop story from their earlier life in Northern Ireland was somewhat unnecessary and brought politics into a book which was essentially about love and disappointment. Stella's back story was quite sensationalist, and I think the plot line in Amsterdam would have carried the novel sufficiently without it.

3.5 stars - readable enough, but not a favourite by any stretch.½

I recently read Milkman by Anna Burns which is about an 18-year-old girl growing up in Northern Ireland. This novella from 1983 is about a young man also living in Northern Ireland during The Troubles.

Cal McCluskey and his father Shamie are the only Catholics living in a Protestant area of Ulster. Cal falls in love with Marcella, a young widow whose husband, a Protestant reserve policeman, was assassinated. He hopes for a relationship with the local librarian but he has secrets because of his unwilling involvement with the IRA. The book jacket offers a perfect summary: “Springing out of the fear and violence of Ulster, Cal is a haunting love story in a land where tenderness and innocence can only flicker briefly in the dark.”

Cal’s father works in an abattoir where Cal could also have a job but he “hadn’t a strong enough stomach” (18). It is quite obvious that the slaughterhouse is a metaphor for Ireland: “People were dying every day, men and women were being crippled and turned into vegetables in the name of Ireland . . . [People were] caught between the jaws of two opposing ideals trying to grind each other out of existence” (83). Cal has been coerced into being a driver during some militant actions but he doesn’t want to be involved: “’I just don’t like what’s happening. . . . I have no stomach for it’” (23).

The book depicts what life is like in a conflict zone. Because of his neighbourhood, Cal faces almost daily intimidation, and he and his father receive a threat from the Ulster Volunteer Force: “Get out you Fenian scum or we’ll burn you out. This is your 2nd warning, there will be no other” (27). Cal is a sensitive and thoughtful person who does not want to get involved but is pressured into being an accomplice for the IRA. Then when he indicates that he wants out, he is threatened by those very people: “’That creates a big problem, Cahal. It would be out of my hands. I wouldn’t like to see you hurt’” (40). The effects on Shamie are equally devastating.

The characterization of Cal is outstanding. He is a decent person who wants nothing to do with violence. Yet he cannot live the peaceful life he wants or be with the woman he wants because of the sectarian violence. He feels a great deal of shame and guilt for the activities in which he’s participated: “Then he went to his bedroom to eat again the ashes of what he had done” (15).

An atmosphere of sadness permeates the book. The relationship between Cal and Marcella is doomed because of the circumstances. This is a harrowing story told with compassion but without sentimentality. It is a short narrative (154 pages) but its emotional effect lingers.

Note: Please check out my reader's blog (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com) and follow me on Twitter (@DCYakabuski).

MacLaverty's short stories are what I imagine would be penned by an Irish Alice Munro growing up during the Troubles. The domesticity of the settings, the introspection of the characters, the word-painting style of the prose, all lend a timeless quality to these otherwise very specific late-20th century Irish settings. There is a tenderness and richness to these stories that bely their insistently-quotidian nature, a juxtaposition of life-changing moments paired with the small significances of the everyday. The range of his stories and the depth of his characters are consistently fulfilling and nourishing.

My heart is so full.

Aside: This unassumingly dazzling book includes five previous collections: Secrets, A Time to Dance, The Great Profundo, Walking the Dog, Matters of Life and Death. It is almost criminal how unfairly lowly-rated they currently are.

This quiet, reflective novel is a portrait of an ageing couple who have been married “for a protracted period.” Gerry and Stella Gilmore travel to Amsterdam for a few days. Gerry sees the trip as a holiday, but Stella has another agenda: she wants to explore how “to live a more devout life,” a life which may not include Gerry whose excessive drinking troubles her. They have many shared experiences and obviously love each other, but there are fissures in their relationship which may mean they will not be able to continue living as a couple.

This is a tender, sympathetic examination of that relationship and the complexity of love. Gerry and Stella love each other. They hold hands, kiss whenever they’re alone in an elevator, and make love regularly. Their familiar bantering suggests they enjoy each other’s company. They even have the same mannerisms: “Gerry joined his hands behind his back as he walked” while “Stella stood almost on tiptoe with her hands joined behind her back.” Stella does things to make life easier for Gerry and he is attentive to her: “her hand-eye co-ordination was a lot poorer than his, so generally he travelled behind her [on an escalator] in case she stumbled. If they were descending he would go in front.” Gerry’s extended interior monologue about what he knows Stella knows reads like a love poem, and the closing lines of the book may inspire tears.

Nonetheless, there are problems. Just as “nobody could peer into a relationship – even for a day or two – and come away with the truth,” Gerry looks at Stella and sees her “Like someone he did not fully know.” This image is repeated: “Seeing her as if he didn’t know her well” and “He was seeing her as someone he didn’t fully know.” And Stella does not always help Gerry understand her; when he asks about a conversation she had with someone, she replies that it “’would be of little interest to you.’” When she feels Gerry is dismissive of her views, she gets up and leaves, thereby dismissing his opinion.

Gerry and Stella’s shared history includes a traumatic experience in Northern Ireland during The Troubles; that incident, which they do not directly discuss, affected them deeply. They cope in different ways but their lack of communication means there are unresolved issues and a lack of understanding. Gerry’s drinking is also driving a wedge between them; Gerry describes their “skidding off each other” and their becoming “ships that pass in the night.”

The husband and wife are quite different in some ways. Stella is very religious; she prays daily, attends Mass every Sunday, and is a Eucharistic minister in her parish. In fact, “Her church was her everything” and she tells, Gerry, “’Mass is the most precious thing in my life.’” Gerry, however, is a non-believer who thinks religion is “’the greatest deception of our lives’” and often mocks Stella’s piety. His devotion lies elsewhere: “A poured, but as yet untouched, pint of Guinness has a slight dome to it which reminded him of the faint curvature of the outer wall of Burt Chapel.”

This is not a plot-driven book. There are no dramatic incidents except one event described in flashbacks. It is very much a novel of character. Both are realistic characters with positive and negative qualities. Gerry, for example, is not a caricature of a drunk, and Stella, though focused on living a good life, is not perfect. Since the perspectives of both are given, the reader gets to know them better than they know each other.

This understated novel about ordinary people with everyday frustrations is definitely worth a read. It is relatively short, but with its careful attention to detail, it packs an emotional punch.

Note: Please check out my reader's blog (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/) and follow me on Twitter (@DCYakabuski).

Grace Notes: A Novel by Bernard MacLaverty is a marvelous read. McLaverty is one of Ireland's great novelist. It is the story of Catherine Anne McKenna from a small town outside of Belfast. She is a Catholic amidst the Protestants of Northern Ireland. As the story opens she now lives in Glasgow where she went to school and is now a budding composer. Her father died and she went back to Ireland for the funeral. The first half of the book takes place in Northern Ireland and it is the half of the book that most fascinated me. The second half takes place in Glasgow where she becomes a single mother and continues on her composing career. It ends with a new work of hers presented to the public by the symphony orchestra which is well received and redeems her. I enjoyed the book and recommend it especially those sensitive to Irish Catholicism.

Essentially a book about religion and Northern Ireland. Handily disguised as a love story. Well written, entertaining, but misleading and a missed opportunity.

Michael Lamb a priest decides the only way to save Owen Kane, a youth in the care of the catholic church, is to flee with him to mainland England. With a small legacy inherited from a dead relative they travel as far as London. With no plan and diminishing resources he accepts an invitation to share a squat under the direction of Haddock a man of questionable morals and sexuality who he by chance meets in a bar. The police have started a country wide search and with increasing interest of the media Lamb makes a decision which sets him on a course and a meeting with his destiny.

Together with John Boyne, and David Park I also enjoy the writing of Bernard MacLaverty but I found reading Lamb somewhat tedious, there appeared to be no real story and no real direction. Michael Lamb obviously thought that by running away from a desolate home on a wild Atlantic coastline he is saving Owen from the fate and hate of an overzealous regime under the iron rod of the Principal Brother Benedict. He loves Owen, not in a physical or sexual sense but as a protector and friend (although I do question his actions on the occasion he left Owen alone in the squat at the mercy of the morally repulsive Haddock) For all his grandiose ideas Lamb is ultimately portrayed as a weak man who squanders his legacy on an ill thought plan leading to a final journey where hope and redemption fade as the fate of Lamb and Owen is finally revealed.

Gerry and Stella, a long-married retired couple, are off on a long weekend get-away to Amsterdam arranged by Stella. They are seemingly comfortable with each other as they approach old-age. But all is not as it seems. As the novel progresses, we learn that Stella had an ulterior motive in arranging the trip, and Gerry has a serious drinking problem about which he deceives only himself. The future of Stella and Gerry is not so secure as it we originally thought.

This novel has lovely characters, a moving story, and is a very real portrait of a long relationship. I liked it very much.

3 1/2 stars½

The mood of the book Midwinter Break and the content actually had the effect of making me question the longevity and even the purpose of marriage. Is it for companionship? Is it for love? What happens when that love loses through time its spontaneity, its freshness, and those little traits you once adored in your partner now appear as an irritation, an annoyance rather than a pleasure.

Gerry and Stella have embarked on a short break to the city of Amsterdam. This is a place that on the one hand is steeped in architectural magnificence and yet is more renowned even recognized for it's tolerance of escorts and prostitutes who brazenly advertise their trade in "rosse buurt" but better known to tourists as the red light district.

Gerry and Stella approaching the twilight of their years present to the readers as a loving couple comfortable in each other's company enjoying the good and bad of this colourful capital. As a retired architect Gerry has an immediate connection with Amsterdam and both can certainly appreciate the history and horror, the open wound that is The House of Anne Frank. Gerry possesses an alcoholic's desires and need to be constantly refueling with Ireland's most famous export; Jamesons blended whiskey. Stella has begrudgingly accepted this weakness viewing this as part of her husband's failings, but is this trip to Amsterdam Stella's opportunity to break free and discover within herself some inner peace and contentment before her body and mind succumbs to the ravages of time. A type of religious community, an order of women living "useful and happy independent lives"... appears to offer the redemption and release she craves, but would they accept her?

At the airport waiting for the flight home Stella tells Gerry that she does not wish to remain in their marriage any longer and on returning home to Scotland the flat will be sold. We learn of a traumatic incident that happened to Stella many years ago and her staunch support of the catholic church which Gerry views as..."Inflexible, narrow, capable of doing terrible damage by her adherence to rules and systems."..... Yet Stella views her relationship with the church as a support helping her cope in those dark times..."Mass is the most precious thing in my life. It's the storyboard of how to get through."..

This is a very powerful, soulful, intimate tale showing the effects and damage that a long term relationship can have on the parties involved. In some ways this book presents itself as a depressing read, yet cannot it also offer hope? Relationships, and love within a marriage change, people need to be aware that as we grow older the way that we interact with our surroundings and the people we love the most never remains or indeed cannot remain the same...."What was love but a lifetime of conversations. And silences. Knowing when to be silent. Above all, knowing when to laugh".... Midwinter Break is informative, enjoyable and highly recommended

This quietly powerful novel, which was selected for this year's Wellcome Book Prize longlist, is set in present day Amsterdam and is centered on a retired Northern Irish couple who has moved to Glasgow and is on a long holiday weekend in the Dutch capital. Gerry was a modestly successful architect, who loves the bottle at least as much as his wife Stella, a former teacher and devoutly religious woman, who struggles against her husband's alcoholism and with a secret that has inspired and possessed her for over 40 years. She is no longer happy living with Gerry, and seeks to use her remaining years to serve God and to repay Him for the dire fate that He spared her from. The author's portrayal of the two characters, and the wonderful city of Amsterdam, is evocative and touching, and I found myself sympathizing with Stella's plight, becoming angry with Gerry's insensitivity and boorishness, yet rooting for the two of them to remain together despite their shortcomings. Midwinter Break is a superb examination of the destructive effects that alcoholism can have on an individual and an otherwise happy marriage, and it certainly deserves a place on this year's so far excellent longlist.

The mid 70's to early 80's was a time fraught with danger in Northern Ireland. As an expat living and working in England I am well versed to understand the mindset of the various embattled groups that continued to carry on a war of attrition not only against the so called enemy (police and army) but equally against each other and if you happened to be of the wrong religion residing in the perceived wrong locality intimidation was an everyday occurrence.

Cal McCluskey and his dad were a catholic family living in a predominately protestant locality...."he could not bear to look up and see the flutter of Union Jacks, and now the red and white cross of the Ulster flag with it red hand.".... Cal was often the target of insults, taunting, and intimidation, but he tried to ignore, picking up his Giro on a regular basis and hanging around street corners, ripe pickings for paramilitary scouts. So he helped with the "cause" and when needed would act as a driver for his fellow republicans Crilly and Skeffington. With so much free time, and little hope of a job in this divided land, he was often to be seen perusing books and cassettes in the local library where one day he notices a new woman behind the counter. What follows is a beautifully written story of a love affair that is doomed to failure from the start. Cal holds a secret that if revealed to Marcella would end their relationship as he is torn between loyalties to his friends and honesty to his lover.

The language and descriptive prose of the author reminded me of the many years I lived in a country riddled with hypocrisy and bigotry....."the weight and darkness of Protestant Ulster, with its neat stifled Sabbath towns.".... "people were dying everyday, men and women were being crippled and turned into vegetables in the name of Ireland. An Ireland which never was and never would be."....."I like the look of Donegal where nothing grows. Beaches, bogs and mountains."......"The parade led by Evangelists screaming about sin and death and damnation."....

The ending when it happens is unexpected and sudden in its execution and brutality but I felt that it suited so well the time and events in such a deeply divided community. Highly Recommended.