August
15
The Coast Road by Alan Murrin
Hungover in church, Izzy wipes the sweat from her brow with a balled-up tissue from her sleeve. With people she knows pressing against her on all sides; there’s no space to to take off her jumper. When she moves to kneel, she smells her own sweat and tries to breathe deeply. “Lord have mercy.”
That is my condensed version of the cracking opening of The Coast Road – a page turning, thought provoking, winning work of fiction written by yet another Irish writer, Alan Murrin.
Set in 1994, against the backdrop of the Irish referendum on the legalisation of divorce, The Coast Road is about marriage. Specifically, the implications for women and children when there is no legal means of escape.
The book tells the stories of three wives in crisis and the “hangover in church” opening is nothing short of a genius metaphor for the way each of them is trapped by their marriage and society more generally. But, please don’t expect a pile on, Murrin is far too good a writer for that. I’m sure I gleaned some measured reflections on the flipside of illegal divorce and what happens when families are forced to remain together through life’s inevitable changes and disappointments.
Murrin writes about women as if he is one. To be honest, I had to google him three times just to make sure he wasn’t a modern-day George Elliott and I’m frankly still not convinced that he’s not writing under a pseudonym just to keep us on our toes.
If I was interviewing him, I’d ask “Alan, tell me exactly how is it that you understand the workings of the deepest corners of a woman’s mind so intimately?” He would sigh as if it was obvious and then we’d chat about woman’s need to be seen, heard and connected. Their inclination to judge, but also their ability to forgive and their capacity for kindness and compassion – particularly as mothers. All characteristics that he has woven into his characters individually and collectively.
Overlooking a slightly rushed ending, this novel is great book club fodder and close to perfection in my opinion. So much so that the minute I finished, I handed it to my husband in bed beside me. “Your next read” I said.
Lord have mercy.
And that’s my 2 cents worth.
Readhead 