So, I forced marched my way through this book after the first maybe 25%.TMoK is a 'bodice ripper' or 'true romance' dressed up as something more. And told from the frustrated but virtuous male point of view. All this sleeping together nude, but such a gentleman.All this self searching of his m...
". . .every legend and all mythologies exist to teach us how to run our days. In kind fashion. A loving way. But there's no story, no matter how ancient, as important as one's own. So if we're to live good lives, we have to tell ourselves our own story. In a good way. A way that's decent to ourse...
Part way through this book I realised that Delaney had written another book, Venetia Kelly's Travelling Show. I felt that perhaps I should have read the earlier book first, but not having done so the Last Storyteller had to stand on its own. It didn't quite, for Venetia also occupies some of th...
Delaney's use of voice in this novel is excellent, as is the massive amount of local flavor with which he imbues his writing. That's the best I can say about this book. As you probably already know, Ireland attempts to tell the story of Ireland (surprise, surprise): about half the novel is a fram...
“My wooing began in passion, was defined by violence and circumscribed by land; all these elements molded my soul.” So writes Charles O’Brien, the unforgettable hero of bestselling author Frank Delaney’s extraordinary new novel–a sweeping epic of obsession, profound devotion, and compelling histo...
Fences surrounded Slains Castle, with turbulent messages: “These ruins are unsafe.” Yes, but for very different, much older reasons - right? To get to the ruins, I had to traverse a slender, nerve-wracking causeway; the sea below curves around in a huge deep gash. With, at most, half an hour of d...
Don’t be the first to sit in the hall. Move in with the main body of the crowd. Just in case he’s around the place. Or looking from behind the curtain. Seats are first come, first served. Which is good. Keep calm. Remember why you’re here. Remember the tactic. Don’t touch the hammer until you’re ...
We had no preparation for such an event. We were emotionally quiet people. We had no training in relationship drama. How could we have? Our farm was like so many others. We had the usual scruffy backyard, never clean enough, with cows parading in and out twice a day, leaving their calling cards i...
In 1824, in New York City, was born a child named James Merritt Ives. Currier trained as a printer in Boston and Ives as a bookkeeper; when they became brothers-in-law they joined forces and made their fortunes. With widespread literacy so new, much of America had not yet received its own literat...
His face was sometimes young as a boy’s, and sometimes creased with mourning. The talking began well—Ireland and fishing. We all liked one another. I gleaned further knowledge of his late wife. “She had the blackest hair you ever saw. I mean, when you looked into it very close. Black as black can...