Unsinkable by Alan Corcoran (Tivoli Publishing House, €17.35)
Waterford’s Alan Corcoran is some buck. After running 35 marathons in 35 consecutive days, he somehow found the energy to write a book on the experience. Now he’s done it again. Unsinkable recalls another huge challenge he set himself: to swim the length of Ireland, 500 kilometres. Part memoir, travelogue, coming-of-age and over-the-odds tale, the book is also a testament to his father Milo, former president of the FAI (memories of whom are the most touching parts of the story). As he says, “pain and grief were the accelerants” for swimming from the Giant’s Causeway to Tramore. There are plenty of gritty travails, but they are all told with honest good humour. Recommended for those who like to set goals for themselves, and finish them. NJ McGarrigle
Dust Child by Nguyễn Phan Quễ Mai (Oneworld, £14.95)
During the Vietnam War, many Amerasian children were born to American GIs and Vietnamese women. Inspired by the author’s own academic research, the tragic circumstances of how these children became separated from their parents sets the backdrop for Nguyễn Phan Quễ Mai’s sophomore novel. What follows is a saga of three intersecting narratives that attest to the tragedy of war. Dust Child follows the fictional lives of Phong, fathered by a black American soldier and Vietnamese mother, considered “a child of the enemy”, or “the dust of life,”; Quỳnh and Trang, two sisters who, in an endeavour to repay their parent’s debt, become “bar girls” in Saigon during the war; and Dan, a GI who, in his sixties, returns to Vietnam in an attempt to reckon with his past. A propulsive and compassionate novel. Brigid O’Dea
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Our Hideous Progeny by CE McGill (Doubleday, £16.99)
“How could we ever ensure that such a science would not be misused?” No, this is not Oppenheimer I am quoting, but Mary Sutherland, protagonist in this queer feminist retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Inspired by the work of her great-uncle Victor Frankenstein, Mary and her husband decide to embark upon a project to recreate the Plesiosaurus dinosaur. In challenging natural order by bringing this ‘hideous’ creature back to life, the author addresses important concerns of morality and the role of women in science, and Victorian society more broadly. The author succeeds in creating an evocative world that the reader inhabits with ease – albeit to our discomfort at times. This is a world of damp, rats and chronic misogyny. Be warned, however, of the novel’s slow pace. Brigid O’Dea
