A tiny, rain-soaked Irish town, set in its narrow ways, shortly after the 1962 introduction of electricity—what events of interest could possibly happen here? Plenty. Actually, minor miracles in an unlikely setting.
Add in an improbable hero, Dr. Jack Troy, who is stiff, awkward, taciturn and unapproachable. “His moustache kept his mouth private.” Dr. Troy’s visit to a home was often “the starter’s pistol to get the funeral suit ready.” He and his adult daughter Ronnie, who serves as a kind of receptionist, “shared the lot of the emotionally blind,” with only the “most perfunctory dialogue.” Yet with surprising plot developments, he goes through extreme contortions for her. If you’ve ever had a daughter or wanted one, he shows how powerful the bond can be.
We expect so little of this man, but when pastor Tom shows serious dementia, he compassionately arranges rotating care from the neighbors so Tom won’t have to be institutionalized. Troy fully rises to the occasion when a local boy finds an abandoned baby the day of the Christmas fair, and brings her to his office apparently dead. Mysteriously, Troy brings the infant alive, and hides her in his home because his daughter is totally enraptured with her.
Now the ringer: a single mother in Ireland then would’ve been as scandalous as one was once in Galilee, immediately subject to brusque authorities who’d remove the child. So plot twists ensue, with the doctor working feverishly for the happiness of his daughter and the baby. As his desperate efforts seem to go awry, he sips brandy with the curate, interestingly named Father Coffey. After many sips, his natural reserve and reticence slip away and he makes a powerful speech, explaining what he’s trying to do. “I’m trying to be a Christian. Only the Church and the State are in my way.”
Brief quotes may not do it justice, but the whole speech is worth treasuring: “God saw all our wrong turns and catastrophes, and still loved us. Not because but despite… God made us with the intention of love. And that’s what’s in that kitchen. That’s what came to this house the day of the fair. And that’s what I am going to try and keep alive.” “The word love, said aloud, had the character of a swung thurible, the frankincense of it everywhere.”
Author Niall Williams, who also wrote This Is Happiness, History of Rain, and Four Letters of Love excels at lyrical Irish prose—immersion in his language is like a night in the pub by the turf fire with a Guinness and a session. While this novel is set at Christmas, it would make for lovely reading any time of year, with a message we’d all like to hear more often.
Kathy Coffey 