THERE is eating and drinking in this collection of stories by Coil Learai O Finneadha. All are based in the west of Ireland. The Irish is rich and colourful, although it may prove difficult for some in places.
The title story is about a wake that takes place late one evening to mourn the death of Murcha a drake. "Didn't he look grand and haughty yesterday morning, recalls Bideachin Bhui. All the neighbours who attend the solemn event share their memories of Murcha, a proud and beautiful bird. He is laid out by one of the chief mourners in the narrator's best white shirt. The neighbours recall his shape, his character, his relationship with various individuals, and then they bury him in a lovely little grave right beside the pond where he fell in love with the white duck. It is a very funny story, and it works.
It is the fresh insights and the descriptive, earthy details, along with a gently humorous slant, that make each story work so well. The characters are drawn with a few, deft brush strokes. There is An Baitsileara Bocht (the poor batchelor), whose 90 year old mother, the same Bideachin Bhui, decides while lying in her bed one morning that it's time for her son to get married. She emerges from behind the door of the room, her two little eyes as lively as a hawk's, fixed on Michilin. "It's not going to go beyond today," she says to him. "You'll have to find her some place and that's that." The poor man has no choice but to go in search of a wife.
All ten stories are set in the west of Ireland in the 1920s and 1930s. There are plenty of references to donkeys, cats the hearth, bicycles, carts, ashes, horse dung, teeth, tea, snuff and individuals who appear over the half door with a grin or a scowl. There's a lot of talk about finding a wife.
There is a carpenter whose sole aim is to have a son and heir. He finds a suitable wife, but in spite of his great efforts, they end up with fifteen daughters all of whom, the author tells us, emigrate. The old couple die and no one is left to carry on the line.
There's the baby boy, Seamaisin Una, who is so small when he's born that he is put on a plate in front of the fire to keep warm. "Don't let the cat get at it," the doctor warns on his way out. Seamaisin Una grows up to be a strapping six footer, who also emigrates, never to return or make contact again.
"Ce he Jack?", about "Jack the lantern", starts out as a story about a blacksmith who marries a woman who is addicted to snuff. The devil comes into their lives and takes the blacksmith to hell to work. He is kicked out eventually for being too much of a trouble maker and a thorn in the side, and he is sentenced to seven years wandering the area as "Jack the Lantern".
There is a character who leaves home in search of work and pighneacha. In his first job carting potatoes he finds himself fighting off fleas during the night, and hens at mealtimes. In another story, we hear how Paidin Bhonnoige earns his living by making poitin, only to discover on one fateful day that his donkey has passed out from imbibing too much. But the story has a further twist.
This book is a treasure trove of funny stories filled with vivid images rural vignettes and great, crusty characters. Many of the words and phrases will be known only to Irish speakers who are familiar with the local dialect of the Connemara Gaeltacht. For the average reader with middling Irish it will be a difficult read, but for all that, worth it.