This is a female text, which is also a caoineadh: a dirge and a drudge-song, an anthem of praise, a chant and a keen, a lament and an echo, a chorus and a hymn. Join in.
Eibhlín Dubh Ní Chonaill was an 18-century Irish noblewoman who eloped with her lover, the handsome, swaggering hussar, Airt Uí Laoghaire, bearing two children and pregnant with a third when Airt was murdered. She poured her grief in to the caoineadh or keen that Ghríofa first came across at school. Nursing her third son, it becomes her constant companion and she begins to research what she can find about Eibhlín, hoping to illuminate a woman whose life has slipped between the cracks of male records. She wants this to be a reclamation, choosing to find her way in via Eibhlín’s twin sister and a book written by her distant relative in the 19th century. This is to be fitted in between the long hours of domestic chores and child rearing, the lists of things to do, ticked off so satisfyingly, work that Ghríofa loves. Despite the exhaustion, the difficult arrival of a fourth child, so nearly lost, she cannot let go of this woman who seems to haunt her, following the sketchiest of trails until it seems that no more can be uncovered. By the end of her book, her work has been recognised and domestic life has taken a different turn, at first resisted then embraced.
I creep away, struck again by how often moments of my day are lived by countless other women in countless other rooms, through the shared text of our days.
Ghríofa’s writing is gorgeously poetic, her book richly imagined as she attempts to reconstruct Eibhlín’s life. Her love of her ‘drudge work’ as she calls it is anathema to me, although we share a love of list-making and ticking, but she writes about it beautifully, weaving an intimate domesticity through her research punctuated with scenes from her life before she met her husband with whom she seems as passionately in love as Eibhlín was with Airt. Her memoir reads like a love letter to lost female achievement and a record of obsession until she understands that she must let go, both of Eibhlín and of her own domestic desires. The book ends with her translation of the work that has exerted such a hold on her imagination and sensibilities. A Ghost in the Throat is an unusual piece of writing, gripping, sometimes painfully honest and above all beautifully written.
Tramp Press: Dublin 9781916434264 224 pages Paperback
I’ve seen this mentioned in all sorts of places since it was published but I had not really engaged my brain fully with it. I can see from your review why it has had so much attention – definitely another one to add to the list (sigh! ).
Ah, you won’t regret it, Liz!
I really loved this, I thought the writing was stunning. Glad you enjoyed it.
Thanks, Cathy. Hard to do such gorgeous writing justice in a review. I’m so pleased it’s had so much praise heaped on it and that cover is superb.
This was such a fascinating book, wasn’t it? I’m glad you discovered it, too.
Quite unlike anything I’ve read before. Both raw and startlingly beautiful at times.
I have seen this all over Twitter, it does sound like a beautifullly written book with some powerful themes and interesting history. I think that cover is very striking and memorable.
It’s a true original, throughly deserving of all the attention it’s been getting.
This really was a treat to read. I’ve thought about this domestic and childbearing scene and I suppose because women keep being interpreted as limited to a domestic realm in writing, it can be courageous to go whole hog with it. I believe it actually is brave, because you know if its Tolstoy spending the bulk of his time in domestic scenes it’s ever so universal. Anyway! I’m trains and planes today with husband and teenager, and may be more checked out for a bit. Happy holidays! X Jenny
Such an unusual, often raw but always beautiful piece of writing. Interesting what you say about women writers and domesticity. I can see that to embrace it so publicly might take courage. I wish it wasn’t seen as gendered – in this house my partner is far more domesticated than I am.
Thank you so much for your support of my blog this year, Jenny, and have a wonderful time over the holidays. I hope the trains and planes run on time! xx
Xx
This does sound stunning, and a truly unusual work. I’ve read other really positive reviews from bloggers too, it’s a remarkable achievement.
I’ve not read anything quite like it before: raw yet beautiful and startlingly honest.
I’ve heard so many wonderful things about this book, including the beautiful writing and unusual story as you describe here. It does seem like it’s one of those books that’s so gorgeous it’s hard to show what it’s like to read it.
It is, indeed. Even for those of us who spend much of our time with our heads stuck in a book, it offers something truly original. I hope you’ll read it.
I have seen this book all over the place in the past year. Your review makes it sound really beautiful!
It’s glorious! Such an original book, thoroughly deserving of that recognition.
Ditto what Naomi said. (Also the cover is so striking!)
I think you’d enjoy her writing which is as striking as that jacket.