Even these days, when it seems no praise is too high for Irish writers, this novel is outstanding. For all its sophistication, elegance, black humour, craft and obvious debt - intentional or otherwise - to the stylistic influence of John Banville, Morrissy's prose is unusually beautiful. Slowly she draws one away from the art and towards the dark emotional agonies underlying a narrative which is detached, unsentimental yet very moving. The story is a human tragedy, a woman's quietly desperate determination to have a child. A former TB patient, Irene is dictated to by shadows and the threat of discovery just as the shadow on her lungs once threatened her. In Irene, Morrissy has created a gentle, dogged, courageous heroine whose experiences are described with compassion and intelligence. Even at their most comic, the other players are also touchingly vulnerable. Don't be surprised if you find yourself in tears; I did.
