So few books written in Ireland and about Ireland have the compassionate understanding of the people and our confused past. Sebastian Barry digs deep and lovingly into the black, bleak earth of sorrow and comes up with a masterpiece.
It echos surreal stories of another Sligoman, Jack Yeats, or the elaborate ventriloquism of Falnnery O'Connor. But it stands as a novel reflecting on Irish history, Irish losses, Irish enmities, with singular force, grace and beauty.
