The defining moment in this appealing study of a gritty, grotty Dublin childhood is when young Shero stands swaying on the roof of 44 Seville Place, trying to turn the television aerial towards England. Shouted directions from below finally result in the reception of a perilously snowy picture - and though the infernal machine gives trouble right to the last page, the incident sets the tone for what is an honest rather than a prettified account of 1960s life in the inner city. Peter Sheridan tells it as he saw it - and, as often as not, he saw it with the disturbingly clear eyes of the child who is old for his years. Thus Brother Dennehy: "He loved Gaelic football, the Irish language, the Gaelic league, anything with the word Gaelic in it, Connemara, Mayo, the Ring of Kerry, Sinn Fein, the IRA and most of all he loved `nancy boys' . . . Nancy boys never fought back, which is what made them nancy boys in the first place." If there's any justice in the world, 44 should become an international bestseller.
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