MASARYK UNIVERSITY BRNO Faculty of Education Department of English Language and Literature

MASARYK UNIVERSITY BRNO Faculty of Education

Department of English Language and Literature

THE FICTION OF COLUM MCCANN IN THE CONTEXT OF

MODERN IRISH LITERATURE AND THE TRANSLATING OF IMAGINATIVE FICTION Diploma thesis

Brno 2006

Supervisor:

PhDr. Pavel Doležel, CSc.

Written by:

Petra Pivoňková

ANOTACE DIPLOMOVÉ PRÁCE Petra Pivoňková: The Fiction of Colum McCann in the Context of Modern Irish

Literature and the Translating of Imaginative Fiction, diplomová práce, Brno, MU 2006, s.87.

Diplomová práce se zabývá rozborem díla irského autora Columa McCanna v kontextu současné irské prózy, tzn. podává stručný přehled Irské prózy dvacátého století a nastiňuje její současné vývojové tendence. Důraz klade především na žánr povídky a

obecné teze konkretizuje analýzou díla jednoho z nejvýraznějších irských prozaiků devadesátých let, Columa McCanna. Diplomovou práci doplňuje překlad dvou jeho povídek, které dokládají názory v této práci prezentované.

This diploma thesis deals with the analysis of the fiction of an Irish author Colum

McCann in the context of contemporary Irish fiction. It provides a brief overview of

Irish fiction of the twentieth century and explains the newest tendencies in the

development of Irish fiction. It is focussed mainly on the genre of short story and puts the general notions in concrete terms by the analysis of fiction of Colum McCann, one

of the most significant Irish prose writers of the 1990s. Additionally, it supplies two translations of Colum McCann’s short stories exemplifying many points raised in the thesis.

Klíčová slova: současná irská próza, irská povídka, imaginativní próza, rozbor literárního díla, překlad imaginativní prózy

Keywords: contemporary Irish fiction, Irish short story, imaginative fiction, literary analysis, translating imaginative fiction

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I declare that I worked on my thesis on my own and that I used the sources mentioned in the bibliography.

Brno, 20th January 2005 3

Acknowledgements I would like to thank to all who have helped me with the work on my diploma thesis,

namely to PhDr. Pavel Doležel, CSc for his kind help and valuable advice which he had provided me as my supervisor.

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CONTENTS 1. INTRODUCTION .................................................................................................... 7 THE IRISH AND THE LITERATURE ........................................................................ 8 Ireland over the last decades ......................................................................................... 8 Are the Irish gifted writers? ........................................................................................ 10 Phenomenon of Irish Short Story ................................................................................ 11 Contemporary Irish Literature..................................................................................... 14 2. COLUM MCCANN ............................................................................................... 25 McCann’s place in the context of modern Irish literature ............................................ 25 McCann’s life ............................................................................................................. 26 McCann’s fiction as a mixture of Irishness and global understanding of the world...... 30 Style ....................................................................................................................... 30

Themes ................................................................................................................... 34

Fishing the Sloe-Black River ...................................................................................... 37 Along the Riverwall, Breakfast for Enrique – Detailed analysis of the stories ............. 40

Allong the riverwall ................................................................................................ 41

Breakfast for Enrique .............................................................................................. 46 Songdogs.................................................................................................................... 53 This Side of Brightness............................................................................................... 54 Everything in this Country Must ................................................................................. 56 The Dancer ................................................................................................................. 58 5

3. TRANSLATIONS .................................................................................................. 61 Problematic areas of translation .................................................................................. 61 4. CONCLUSIONS .................................................................................................... 65 5. CZECH SUMMARY.............................................................................................. 67 6. ENGLISH SUMMARY.......................................................................................... 68 BIBLIOGRAPHY ...................................................................................................... 69 APPENDIX I.............................................................................................................. 72 Na nábřeží .................................................................................................................. 72 APPENDIX II ............................................................................................................ 79 Snídaně pro Enriqua ................................................................................................... 79

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1. INTRODUCTION

We first encountered Irish literature1 when living in Dublin and quite quickly, we fell in love with some of the modern authors, particularly with Roddy Doyle and Colum McCann whose fiction for some reason appealed to us very much.

Then we realized that most Czech readers hardly know modern Irish fiction at all as it is

rarely translated into Czech. What we have in the Czech language is the classic of

modernism James Joyce and then writers of the sixties such as John McGahern and

Edna O’Brien but apart from them, Irish literature has not been translated into Czech

frequently and this is true especially as far as the writers of the nineties are concerned. Of course, there are some exceptions; some fictions of Roddy Doyle and Colm

McToibin for example, do exist in the Czech language and this fact contributed to our

decision to focus the diploma thesis on Colum McCann, whose only story translated into Czech so far is the one called Sisters, which was published in the praiseworthy collection Farari a Fanatici published by Fraktály Publishers2.

Originally, the goal of this work was to focus exclusively on Colum McCann but soon we realized that such a work, though aimed at one particular author, must be presented in some sort of context to show what he has been shaped by (in literary, cultural and political terms) and what place he takes within the continuity of Irish fiction.

Therefore, we broadened the subject of the diploma thesis and attempted to introduce Colum McCann’s fiction in the context of modern Irish literature with a focus on the

short story as it is a phenomenon which, Pilny notes, ‘in the Czech Republic hasn’t got the room it deserves yet.’3 The diploma thesis should provide its readers with the

1

The term Irish literature is used to refer to Irish literature in English in this work as Irish literature in

Irish is not what the work is aimed at. Definitely, such a theme is so extensive that it deserves to be discussed in an independent work. 2

Fraktály Publishers is the only publishing house, which aims one of its editions (Irská řada) on Irish

literature (both in Irish and English) and so far has published two collections of Irish short stories containing the works of new authors as well. It should be noted, that, to a great deal, Ondřej Pilný takes credit for it. 3

Pilný, O. (2004). Faráři a fanatici (Back cover). Praha: Fraktály.

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information which will help them to orientate in contemporary Irish fiction a bit easier, however, it is not meant as a deep analysis of modern Irish fiction but rather as a

concise overview of this seemingly small literature. In other words, we aimed to

introduce Colum McCann’s fiction in the broader context and point out to the fact that Irish literature definitely is worth attention.

On that account, this diploma thesis is neither a traditionally approached translation analysis nor traditionally viewed literary analysis. We attempted to produce a balanced combination of the both, instead.

THE IRISH AND THE LITERATURE Ireland over the last decades

Literature always reacts at what is around, therefore it is necessary to look at the recent development of Ireland. Ireland has been through many fundamental changes over the

last decades. After entering the EU at the beginning of the 1970s, Irish economy started to flourish in an unprecedented extend. Originally, poor and rural Ireland has slowly

transferred itself into a Celtic Tiger with one of the most productive European

economies. Partly this has been caused by European money flowing to Ireland and

partly it must have been the human potential which took advantage of this opportunity. Together with these changes, another important thing to change society came in the 60s;

the Irish slowly started to free themselves from the prudent and extremely strict Catholic Church, which had used to rule people’s lives to an unbelievable extend.

However, it took a long time to free from the power of the Church as the Irish are traditionally strong believers and the tradition to obey all the rules the Church introduced (however absurd they were) had been deeply rooted in people’s minds. In

order to illustrate the prudence of the Catholic Church in Ireland, we may present this example; it was not until 1985 that the sale of contraception without medical

prescription was legalised. On that account, it ordinarily happened that especially the

poor families had four children and more. The Irish who are currently in their forties or fifties still regard it as absolutely normal to have about four children. 8

Presumably, it was the poor who were the most oppressed because those who had money always found their way out of problems; they usually went to England where an

abortion was legal. A famous contemporary writer Roddy Doyle often points out to still existing social injustice in Irish society.

Within the last two decades living conditions in Ireland has greatly improved but on the

other hand, many new problems appeared. Despite the growing wealth of the country, the Irish have had to adjust themselves to these new problems and to a new, transformed society. Naturally, this process is best reflected in the new writing of the 90s.

In the Introduction to the Contemporary Irish Literature Christina Haunt Mahony points out to positive tendencies in today’s Ireland: ‘Not only is Ireland enjoying a level of

unprecedented economic prosperity moving as it has to take its place among European

nations, but the artistic climate seems particularly favourable to fostering notable achievement in a variety of disciplines. Film studies and production, new to the country flourish. Ireland’s traditional music, sometimes blended with elements of pop rock and

often availing of new technology has found a worldwide audience...Similarly, today’s writers in Ireland are producing an impressive body of work that gains daily in critical and popular acclaim.’4 To prove her words we can remember e.g. Seamus Heaney’s

recent Nobel Prize for Poetry. Definitely, the glory of Irish literature is not gone and is

not limited only to the great writers of the past such as Jonathan Swift, James Joyce or Samuel Beckett.

In this chapter we cannot forget to mention the Northern Troubles as the Irish

themselves call the fight between the Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland because especially in the 70s and 80s it greatly influenced every individual’s life. In his

Introduction to The New Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction Dermot Bolger

fittingly remarks on this topic: ‘For the past quarter of the century the most extraordinary violence has been an everyday reality in Northern Ireland...There is no

doubting the major and continuing importance of Northern Troubles. As writers like

4 Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s

Press. p 1.

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McCabe [Patrick] have shown here, this terrible slaughter is something which Irish writers have confronted frequently with great humanity, outrage, insight and success.’5

Are the Irish gifted writers?

Concerning the notion of Irishness, there are two interesting phenomena we would like

to point out to. There are two myths connected with Irish literature: Firstly, the Irish are

regarded as particularly gifted writers and secondly, a short story is often considered to be an Ireland’s national art form. Further on we will attempt to explain how these notions came into being and whether they are based on reality or not.

In fact, it is not surprising that these myths have developed as the list of important Irish

writers throughout the history is astonishing; Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), Lawrence

Sterne (1713 – 1768), Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1792), Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), John M. Synge (1871-1909), Sean O’Casey (1880-1964), James Joyce (1882-1941), Frank O’Conner

(1903-1966) or Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) were all writers, whose importance was

not limited to Ireland, on the contrary, they belonged among the best writers of their times.

The number of Irish successful writers is surprising mainly because of the size of

Ireland. Dermot Bolger wittingly comments on Irish literary success throughout the 20th century in the Introduction to the Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction: ‘Dublin,

for example, a city roughly the size of Bologna has produced three Nobel Prize winners

in literature – Yeats, Shaw, Beckett – in addition to Joyce (probably the most important writer of the century), Wilde and J.M.Synge.’6 While listing important Irish writers we

definitely cannot forget to mention Sean Heaney who won the Nobel Prize for literature

in 1995.

5 Bolger, D. (2000). The New Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction. London: MacMillan

Publishers.p. XIV-XV.

6 Bolger, D. (1993). The Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction. London: MacMillan Publishers. p. VIII.

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It might be a mere coincident and these generalizations derived from nations’ typical

qualities are always a bit superfluous, it is worth pointing out to the success of Irish literature, though, at least for the sake of interest. Whether or not it is a misconception

on the part of others, Irishness is and has always been associated with the poetic. Writing skills are held to be a special talent of the Irish, and although like all the

generalizations based on nationality it is a suspect notion, it is certainly the one that persists.

Phenomenon of Irish Short Story

There is one more myth surviving among the Irish as well as outside Ireland. It is a significant position of a short story in Irish fiction. By many, it is regarded as a national

art form as this genre has always been extremely popular among both Irish writers and

readers. In the Introduction to The Hennessy Book of Irish Fiction Joseph O’Connor wittily remarks: ‘We Irish are very good at the short story, we are constantly telling

ourselves, as though having an Irish passport automatically entitles the bearer to produce a really startling neo-Joycean epiphany in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. The

truth, however, is a little more complex. Writing good short stories is not easy. So many short stories are imitative, or tricksy, or twee, or boring, or sentimental, or lacking in resonance, or just plain bad.’7

Undoubtedly, the genre of a short story has a long and uninterrupted tradition in Ireland, which had started with James Joyce and his Dubliners and since then it has achieved

distinction and worldwide recognition. Christina Mahony asserts that ‘chief among Irish short story writers are Frank O’Connor (pseudonym of Michael O’Donoven) and his

contemporary and fellow Corkman Sean O’Faolain (who was born John Phelan, the

English form of the name).’8 According to Joseph O’Connor there is one more writer who belongs into this group and it is Liam O Flaherty9, who is in this regard mentioned

7 Bolger, D. Carty, C. (1995). The Henessy Book of Irish Fiction. Dublin: New Island Books.p. 10.

8 Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s

Press.p. 21.

9 Bolger, D. Carty, C. (1995). The Henessy Book of Irish Fiction. Dublin: New Island Books. p. 11.

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by Dermot Bolger as well. Bolger completes the list with one more name and it is Mary Levin.10

However, many Irish literary critics disagree with the notion of a short story as an

Ireland’s national art form. For instance, Dermot Bolger points out to an interesting fact: ‘The myth of a short story as an Ireland’s national art form has had a good innings. In

the past it was, perhaps at least domestically, more easily understandable and even, in cases, politically desirable. The short story was certainly going to shine brighter in an environment where novels by almost every major Irish writer were being banned.’11

John McGahern, a famous Irish novelist, refuses a short story as a national genre in his

preface to the 1984 edition of his Leavetaking because ‘it [a short story] is not social at

all. It is just a small explosion, and in a way the whole world begins before the short

story begins and in a way whole world takes place afterwords, which the reader imagines. And it generally makes one point and one point only.’12

In other words, short stories occur in a limited place and time and within that form,

Colm Tóíbín (one of the most famous contemporary Irish writers) notes, ‘we need not deal with the bitterness of the past, the confusion of the present or the hopelessness of the future.’13

It is hard to say how much the problems of the censorship influenced the bent towards the short fiction or how much the society they existed in lent itself more readily towards

the short story but definitely the popularity of the short fiction in Ireland has been to a certain degree caused by the political and social factors (the Church’s censorship) and it remains popular both thanks to the strong tradition it has developed and the quality of current stories.


Publishers. p. XIX.


Publishers. p. XVIII.

12 McGahern, J. (1984). Leavetaking, London: Phoenix House. p. 3.


Publishers. p. XIX.

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Despite that we share Bolger’s (and many others’) opinion, believing that ‘Ulysses

along with Becket’s trilogy make the novel as much, if not more, a national art form that the short story ever was.’ Apart from that Bolger makes it clear that ‘the major achievements of contemporary Irish fiction in recent years have been most frequently in

the novel form.’14 To support this idea we want to draw reader’s attention to Colum

McCann’s latest work, the novel called The Dancer, which has definitely won him greater success than his volumes of short stories.

McCann points out to the fact that ‘a restrictive nationality is often put on the idea of a

short story. Critics and readers and writers often believe that they know what an Irish

story is and how it should conduct itself in the world. So it is with Russian stories, French stories and even the contemporary American short story, as if a national voice is

somehow coded in the spine. Often one finds oneself at the whim of a sort of literary

olympics. Yet a good story operates in the world as a sort of scaffold to our souls, not as an event for flags.’15

We would like to draw attention to an interesting parallel between the Irish and Czech

literature. Many Irish literary scientists suggest that the popularity of the short story was

partly caused by the illiberal environment in society. In other words, Irish writers tended

to write short stories rather than novels because short fiction (for all the reasons stated above) was less likely to be banned. In the Czech Republic, under the Communistic

government the situation in terms of freedom of speech was quite similar to Ireland.

There was the same lack of freedom (however different the reasons were) but writers

chose other ways to cope with it. They did not bend towards short fiction that much but tried to hide the message and express themselves allegorically instead. We would

submit that perhaps, as a result of that, novel has remained the most popular literary form in the Czech Republic.


Publishers. p. XIX.

15 Kiely, B. (2001). Collected Stories of Benedict Kiely (Introduction by Colum McCann). London: Methuen Publishing Ltd.

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Contemporary Irish Literature BEGINNING OF THE TRADITION

In order to make the overview over contemporary Irish literature complete we have to start at the beginning of the 20th century as modernist prose of James Joyce is of such an

importance that it simply cannot be omitted. Not only did his works changed literature and opened new opportunities for an artistic expression but also they still have an influence on contemporary writers.

Bolger stresses that ‘possessing such immediate and famous ancestors can be both beneficial and problematic. The benefits include inheriting a sense of self-confidence and (through Joyce and Beckett) a sense of belonging within the mainstream of European literature.’16 On the other hand, there are also obvious drawbacks as such

ancestors, in a way, make one bear higher responsibility for what he or she writes. One

is expected to proof that he or she is worthy of such predecessors.

Joyce’s sole volume of short stories Dubliners ‘defines and introduces modern Irish prose and stands nearly a century after its publication as one of the finest examples of

modernist short prose in the English language.’17 Similarly, his ‘aesthetic novel of the

growth of a young man to maturity, and his cultural awaking, A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, remains one of the most fully achieved novels of its type, the bildungsroman, in the English language.’18 For these, Joyce had models in English and

continental languages, which he was familiar with but he had no Irish models at all.

Therefore, it is not surprising that, like many others, he appears as innovator in this

regard. That he, in turn, stands as the model for so much Irish fiction to follow is no more surprising.


Publishers. p. VIII.

17 Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s Press. p.18.

18 McMahon, S. (1998). The Mercier Comapanion to Irish Literature. Cork: Mercier. p.55.

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Joyce’s Ulysses, as Mahony says, ‘is a celebration of Irishness and humanity,’ in which

he ‘revels in exhibiting every stylistic device in the history of English and other literatures. The highly experimental quality of the book could be, and was, daunting for writers who followed Joyce, but it was also liberating, especially for Irish writers.’19 IRISH RENAISSANCE

We stopped at the beginning of Irish modernist fiction as it is a background for

contemporary fiction, which this work is focussed on, but now we have to proceed to another important breakpoint in the development of Irish fiction, so-called Irish Renaissance. This period started in the 1960s and was connected with social and political changes in Ireland.

In this period, Ireland began to change. People from the countryside moved to cities, the women’s liberation movement started and the Catholic practices were being revised and

‘a confession was no more a social highlight of the week’20, Bolger jokes. As a result of

that they began to publicly debate abortions, divorce and (little latter) homosexuality. These were problems, which had not officially existed before.

Unfortunately, there were some negative events happening as well. In the 60s the

Troubles in Northern Ireland began and this violence slowly started to influence people’s everyday lives all over the island.

Such a situation naturally had a strong impact on new generation of writers and artists in

general. In their books, they suddenly discussed things, which were unacceptable for the establishment, therefore the books were often banned right after their publication or were not published at all.

According to Dermot Bolger, there are four main starting points in the history of

contemporary Irish writers’ struggle to write in their own way and stand up against the

censorship: ‘The intense fury surrounding John McGahern’s novel The Dark (banned in

19 Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s Press. p.19.


Publishers. p.XIX.

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1966), the rejection by the Abbey Theatre21 of Tom Murphy’s violent study of an

immigrant family A Whistle in the Dark (1961), controversy surrounding Eugene Mc

Cabe’s stage debut with Kings of the Castle (1964) and the end of Edna O’Brien’s Girls in Their Married Bliss (1964),’22 a novel portraying the sexual life of an Irish woman.

Probably, the most influential prose writer of the 60s is John McGahern (1934) whose best known book is, according to Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia23, the novel

Amongst woman (1990), the story of Michael Moran, an IRA veteran of the Irish War of

Independence and the Irish Civil War, who now cruelly dominates his family in the

unforgiving farmlands of Monaghan. McGahern is considered a master of the short story. It should be stressed, though, that he does not view short story as an Ireland’s national art form and prefers a novel as a more appropriate form for depicting society and its problems (for more details see p 4).

McGahern is also important as a writer whose work has influenced a younger generation of authors such as Colm Tóibín and Colum McCann.

The one who kind of started the feministic writing in the Irish literature was Edna

O’Brien (1930). Her prose is not truly feministic but she was courageous enough to depict openly women’s problems (Irish society used to be strongly patriarchal). In most of her novels she focuses on the role of woman in Irish family life and her works

usually carry many of the features that are considered typical Irish novel’s attributes. For instance, her Country Girls (1960) are said to have all the classic symptoms of the

Irish traditional novel (short story): ‘from the claustrophobic rural religious upbringing,

through the betrayal of innocence and down to the conventional ending of heroine (hero) fleeing Ireland on the desk of the cattle boat.’24

21 The Abbey Theatre is the Irish National Theatre


Publishers.p. XIV.

23 [online] cit. December 15th 2005.


Publishers. p. XXV.

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CHANGES OF THE 70S AND 80S

Ni Dhuibne (1954), who lives in Dublin and writes in both Irish and English, examines

the same themes like Edna O’Brien in her fiction. However, her writing is varied – it

ranges from children literature to television scripts – but her recent novels and short stories brought her a wide readership.

Neil Jordan (1950) is now famous mainly as a film director (The Company of Wolves,

Mona Lisa). When he published the collection of short stories named after the famous jazz piece Night in Tunisia (1974), it signalled the emergence of new generation of

writers. Jordan did not write about the rural Ireland and Irish patriotism like the older

writers. In his works, we can notice the rhythm of Charlie Parker’s bebop music, which

accompanies growing up of a boy thinking of sex and music, instead. Apart from The

Night in Tunisia, he wrote e.g. novels The Past (1980) or Sunrise with a Sea Monster

(1994).25

In the 1990s Neil Jordan has directed Butcher Boy, which was made according to

Patrick McCabe’s (1955) novel published in 1992 under the same name. ‘Like much of

McCabe’s fiction, the novel features a child’s world, from the child’s perspective and one that is comprised of father, mother and an only son.’26

For the reason of similar narrative’s viewpoint McCann’s short stories from Everything

in This Country Must are often compared to McCabe’s Butcher Boy as this novel is

considered to be a model for depicting the world through child’s perspective in the Irish fiction.

In the 70s new and tragic theme entered Irish literature: In this period an armed conflict

between the Nationalists (Catholics) and the Unionists (Protestants) overgrew in i a

25 For more details see: Pilný, O. (2004). Faráři a fanatici. Praha: Fraktály.p 307+312.

26 Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s Press. p. 242.

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form of civil war. Writers reacted differently on this violence. There are writers such as

Seamus Heaney who express their feelings about the conflict indirectly - for instance by using analogies. This is the case of McCann as well, who deals with this theme in a similar way even if he does not belong among this generation.

On the other hand, there are authors, whose writings verge on political propaganda27. Bernard McLaverty’s (1942) fiction, for example, straightforwardly describes the terrible scenes of everyday life in the North. McLaverty’s most famous works include the novels The Lamb (1980) and Cal (1983), which both have been made into film. He

focuses exclusively on the subject matter of Northern Ireland and writes also short

fiction, which was published in volumes A Time to Dance (1982) or Walking the Dog (1994).28

German-Irish writer Hugo Hamilton (1953) ‘has not acquired a large readership outside

Ireland , but this Dublin-based writer has a lyrical and evocative style that he can adopt to, it seems, nearly any setting,’ Mahony claims. ‘His fiction set both in Ireland and

abroad, explores and at times explodes layers of incongruity in modern life.’29 His

recent short story collection Dublin where the Palm Trees Grow is, Mahony asserts, ‘as

eclectic and surreal as the title suggests.’30 Hamilton’s style is sometimes compared to

McCann’s writing thanks to their formal eclecticism and surreal tendencies.

Dermot Bolger (1959) is both an important literary critic and a respected writer. In the 90s, he edited many significant anthologies of Irish short fiction such as The Picador

book of Contemporary Irish Fiction, The New Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction or The Vintage Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction, where he provided room

for young and unknown writers and in fact, to a great deal he helped them to win

27 Pilný, O. (2004). Faráři a fanatici. Praha: Fraktály. p.308.

28 According to: Pilný, O. (2004). Faráři a fanatici. Praha: Fraktály. p 308+314. 29

Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s

Press.p. 24.


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recognition. McCann belongs among these writers who were sort of ‘revealed’ (or at least, given a space) by Bolger.

In his own fiction Bolger tends to be ‘overly ideological, condemning the new have –

have not society that has emerged in Ireland in the last two decades as a result of changes in economic policy and Ireland’s entry into EU,’ asserts Mahony.31

She remarks that his Dublin is an environment more familiar to some of the not-Irish

readers through the work of Roddy Doyle. The difference between the two is, though, that Bolger’s writing is not favoured with the same degree of leaving humour.32

Colm Toibin (1955) and Roddy Doyle (1958) are probably the best-known

contemporary Irish fiction writers abroad. Nevertheless, they are respected out of Ireland as well as in Ireland.

Colm Toibin gained acclaim as journalist before publishing his award winning novels The South (1990) and The Heather Blazing (1992), which was commented on by Don

DeLillo, a respected American writer: ‘A strong and moving work of fiction about the hard truths of changing one’s life. A grand achievement.’33

According to Mahony, he ‘writes an economical prose that scrupulously avoids the temptation to the rhetorical or the sentimental. Instead, complexity and nuance are vested in characters, moral dilemmas and eerily emphatic landscapes.’34

His most recent novel is Master published in 2004 and depicting the life of Henry

James. He has also written non-fiction books Homage to Barcelona (1990) and The

Sign of the Cross: Travels in Catholic Europe (1994).


32 For more details see: Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition.

New York: St. Martin’s Press. p. 249.

33 Toibin, C. (1999). The Blackwater Lightship (Back cover), London: McMillan Publishers Ltd.

34 Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s Press.p. 256.

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Roddy Doyle’s first novel Commitments was published in 1989 to a great acclaim.

Together with The Van (1991) and The Snapper (1990) it comprises the Barrytown

Trilogy.

Doyle’s work is significant and found a wide readership partly because it ‘gives voice to yet another previously unheard segment of the Irish population.’35 He was born and

lived in the poor north side of Dublin and was the first one to write first-quality books about people living in suburban areas such as Kilbarrack (which is the real name of Barrytown).

Mahony reminds us that ‘the Dublin working-class poor has, of course, been the subject of O’Casey’s great tragicomedies and the novels and plays by Brendan Behan, but each of these authors wrote at times, when Dublin’s urban poor were truly urban.’36

Nevertheless, ‘Doyle’s subjects suffer the dual disadvantage of being not only deprived

economically and socially but also being displaced from their tightly knit urban tenements to the new suburban wastelands like Kilbarrack.’37

Jimmy Rabbit, the main character of Commitments wittily enlightens the situation of the

Northern Dubliners: ‘...the Irish are the blacks of Europe and the Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin and the Northern Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin...’38

Doyle ignores all the taboos and openly describes life of the poor, which is full of

alcohol, crime, lack of money and social injustice. He does not only provide us with the social criticism, though. His writing is full of irony and black humour and, at times, of

beautiful images (the images from the childhood of the main character in Paddy Clark

HaHaHa).

Even though Doyle’s themes and settings are quite gloomy, his books are mostly rather optimistic in the end. They ordinarily contain at least a small piece of hope and his




38 Doyle, R. (1992). The Barrytown Trilogy (2nd ed.). London: Minerva. p.37.

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writing is never utterly pessimistic. The characters are mostly left with a kind of hope or a potential way out of problems. This element of Doyle’s fiction reminds us of Bohumil Hrabal’s early short stories, in which despite the sadness one will always find, what

Hrabal called ‘small pearl hidden at the bottom’. As a result of that the reader is left

with the feeling that there is always some chance to improve things whatever the circumstances. The perfect example supporting this opinion is Doyle’s novel Woman Who Walked into the Doors. NEW IRISHNESS

In this section we won’t mention well-established authors such as Doyle, Toibin or Bolger again because, we believe, we paid enough attention to them in the previous

chapter and this part will be dedicated to the writers who entered literature after the year 1990.

The writers of the 90s are not focussed on Ireland so much, they are attracted to more personal themes, we can say. ‘Rather than trying to save the world or Ireland, writers seem to be preoccupied with examining the life they have.’39

Colum McCann seems to contradict this notion, though, as his work is often closely bound with Ireland. But on the other hand, he focuses on an individual and his or her

life (not on Ireland as a whole) – in Ireland or somewhere else. In his books he tries to define his own relation to the native country or understand what is going on in the

North. However, what he deals with is rather his own life and things associated with it than ‘saving Ireland’.

‘New writers created a grand mixture of literary styles that hint at the complexities of

human experience,’ says John Somer, the editor of The Scribner Book of Irish Writing, and distinguishes four main tendencies in the Irish fiction of the 90s: realistic writing, postmodern writing , partly deep realism and deep realism.40

The typical representative of the realistic writing in Irish literature is, for instance, Bernard McLaverty, who belongs rather to an older generation, though. He openly and

39 Somer, John; Daly, John (ed.): The Scribner Book of Irish Writing, Scribner, London 2001, p.XII. 40 Daly, J., Somer, J. (2001). The Scribner Book of Irish Writing. London: Scribner. p.XII.

21

straightforwardly describes the life in Northern Ireland not avoiding any taboos. Through the third person narrator he simply depicts reality as he sees it around.

Concerning Irish post-modern writing in the strict sense of the word, the typical

representative is e.g. Patrick McCabe, whose most-accomplished novel Butcher Boy as

noted in the chapter The Changes of the 70s.

Irish postmodern writing (likewise any other postmodern fiction) is characterised by narrative openness and fragmentation, which replaced narrative closure and coherence and in a way it is an assault upon traditional definitions of narrative. Postmodern writers tend to create gaps and ironies that continually remind the reader that an author is – and wants to be – present in his or her writing.

Speaking of deep realism, John Somer explains, the essence of it and lists its main

features in his preface to The Scribner Book of Irish Writing: ‘It shares goals and

techniques with both French Surrealism and Robert Bly’s notion of deep imagery...It tries to examine how we use or misuse myths and subliminal images and signs in order to infuse meaning and significance into our lives. It is a proper reaction to the cynicism and postmodernism.’41

Deep realists share some of the techniques with magic realists, in fact, the two literary styles have a lot in common. Like magic realistic fiction, deep realistic fiction contains fantastic and dreamy features but at the same time it is set in a normal, modern world

with authentic descriptions of humans and society. It blends the real and the fantastic in

a way that the fantastic seem to be real and the other way round. To be more concrete, we want to present an extract from McCann’s short story Fishing the Sloe-Black River as he is probably the most significant representative of this stream in Irish fiction.

‘The women fished for their sons in the sloe-black river that ran through the small

Westmeath town, while the fathers played football, without their sons...They were

casting with a ferocious hope, twenty six of them in unison...whipping back the rods

41 For more details see: Daly, J., Somer, J. (2001). The Scribner Book of Irish Writing. London: Scribner. p. XIII-XIV.

22

over their shoulders. They had pieces of fresh bread mashed onto hooks so that when they cast their lines, the bread landed with a soft splash on the water, and the ripples

meat other gently...Mrs Conhenny scratched at her forehead. Not a bite, not a bit, not a brat around, she thought as she reeled in her line.’42

Deep realists use the mixture of realistic, surrealistic and magic realistic literary techniques in order to provide the reader with more deep and true reflection of reality than conventional realist techniques would illustrate.

Partly deep realism is derived from deep realism but ‘uses realistic techniques to introduce various features of deep realism.’43 The features of this style can be found in

works of Joseph O’Connor and Eilis Ni Dhuibne.

Most Ni Dhuibne’s writings describe lives of today’s teenage girls and young women.

Her impressive and slightly ironic short story The Woman from Bath tells the story of a

slightly bitter young girl who sets off for the journey to Bath, a small spa town, to look for literary characters of Jane Austen’s novels. Nevertheless, she comes across a reincarnation of another literary character, Chaucer’s lecherous Woman from Bath, instead. 44

We may carefully conclude that new Irish prose differs from earlier writing in one

important thing and that is the themes it deals with. However, in terms of the form and the genre, it is rather traditional. Mahony makes a point that: ‘The modern Irish fiction with rare exceptions is markedly noninnovative in structure. Irish writers, who have

always found the short story a felicitous genre, continue to do so.’45 Nevertheless, it has

already been stated above that novel is currently regarded by many as the most flourishing genre of Irish fiction.

42 McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p.53. 43

44 45

Daly, J., Somer, J. (2001). The Scribner Book of Irish Writing. London: Scribner. p. XIII. According to: Pilný, O. (2004). Faráři a fanatici. Praha: Fraktály. p. 308.

Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s

Press. p. 275.

23

Irish fiction has simply kept pace with modern Irish life and has adjusted to it. In Contemporary Irish Literature, Mahony 46 thoroughly explores the themes which the

contemporary Irish fiction deals with and concludes that instead of rural or small-town

people it is focussed on the city dwellers and their urban dilemmas. Irish writers always depicted family life but now they focus more on the dysfunctional elements of families.

Former criticism of the authoritarian Church has been transformed into the analysis of

the dissolution of the Church’s power. Moreover, Irish writers have gained much more global awareness, which they combine with a local history and politics. Poverty, a

typical Irish theme remains but now it is often presented in a different range of

problems. Mahony suggests that it is probably caused by education and affluence that results from education. And last but not least, many taboos such as sexuality are now openly discussed without books being banned.

However, traditional Irish theme of exile remains, as it continues to be a fact of Irish

life. Mahony explains though, that today it is usually a different type of exile: ‘Irish

emigrants in books, as in reality, now show up in unlikely places and are rarely forced

to remain there against their will.’47 In this regard, Colum McCann seems to be the

characteristic example. He lives abroad (and so do many of his characters) not because of being forced to it but because he wants to.

46

For more detailes see: Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition.

New York: St. Martin’s Press. p. 275.


24

2. COLUM MCCANN McCann’s place in the context of modern Irish literature

Nowadays Colum McCann is considered to be one of the central figures of

contemporary Irish writing together with e.g. Eoin McNamee. He entered literature at the beginning of the 90s when he appeared in a few compilations of Irish short stories (e.g. The Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction, New Island’s Ireland in Exile, both edited by Dermot Bolger) and since then had been regarded as a promising author.

First, his fiction was associated mainly with exiles’ writing and in the 1994, after the

publication of McCann’s debut volume of short stories, Dermot Bolger wrote in his

review of McCann’s Fishing the Sloe-Black River: ‘Though emigration has been a fact

of Irish life for centuries, it is only quite recently that it has found its way into Irish

literature. Joseph O’Connor, Hugo Hamilton and Michael Collins are amongst the most

celebrated voices of contemporary emigration (though the first two are now repatriated), but a number of lesser known emigrés are emerging...Amongst the most promising of this energetic new wave of Irish fiction is Colum McCann.’48

Tony Connelly sees McCann as ‘a part of literary tradition, of which the more senior

exponents are William Trevor and John McGahern, the more junior Desmond Hogan and Dermot Bolger. All these writers produce well-crafted prose on the condition of

Ireland.’ Connelly is of the opinion, though, that McCann ‘fits into this category perhaps too smoothly.’49

Mahony puts McCann among writers such as Desmond Hogan and Niel Jordan, whose

writing is - like McCann’s – associated with Magical Realism but she stresses that McCann’s fiction is more significant in this regard: ‘...For McCann it [the link to the Magical Realism] seems to be becoming a signature.’50

48 Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’. Books Ireland. Summer 1994, No 178, p. 154.

49 Connelly, T. ‘Celtic Tales of Our Day’. London Times, May 23rd, 1994, p. 31e.


25

It is not only Dermot Bolger, who is keen on this generation. Joseph O’Connor says in

his preface to The Hennessy Book of Irish Fiction: ‘Many of the writers whose work has appeared during that time [1989-1995] – Hugo Hamilton, Colum McCann, Marrina Carr, Marry O’Donnel and Colm O’Gaora – have either simultaneously or subsequently established themselves as part of the most vibrantly energetic generation of Irish writers to have appeared for many decades.’51

In the Editor’s Note to the Expanded Edition of The Picador Book of Irish

Contemporary Fiction in 2000, Dermot Bolger claims that he had been sometimes

criticised for including relatively unknown writers like McCann in the edition of The Picador Book in the 1993.52 Nevertheless, in less then seven years time McCann has

turned out to be a respected author whose novels have been celebrated in literary magazines all over the country.

In our opinion, the most interesting link between McCann and other Irish contemporary writers has been revealed by James Eve in his review for London times: ‘Maybe the closest parallels with McCann’s stories in contemporary literature are, strangely, with

the early work of the poet Seamus Heaney. Like Heaney McCann refuses to be drawn into explicit statements or blame, and both writers approach the wider political situation through the delicate tensions of domestic incidents.’53

McCann’s life

Colum McCann was born in 1965 and was raised in and around Dublin and at his

mother’s family farm in County Derry in Northern Ireland. In 1989 he graduated from the journalism course at Rathmines College of Commerce and went to spend the

summer in New York, working as general dogsbody for an international press

51 Bolger, D. Carty, C. (1995). The Henessy Book of Irish Fiction. Dublin: New Island Books. p. 13.


Publishers.p. XXXV.

53 Eve, J. ‘No Way Out in Ireland’. London Times. Supplement II. June 7th, 2000, p. 18.

26

syndicate. This was the first time he had left Ireland and since then he came back to Ireland sporadically and lived mostly abroad, which turned out to be one of the most important factors influencing his writing.

It was neither the economical situation of his family nor problems to find work which

made him leave Ireland. According to what he says in interviews, there were two main factors, which made him leave. Firstly, it was definitely a political and social situation in Ireland and secondly, it was something coming from the inside, a will to try living in

another country and grab new opportunities. Additionally, he openly admits that as a

teenager he was under the strong influence of American writers of the Beat Generation, whose books his father would bring home from the States.

In McCann’s Introduction to The Collected Stories of Benedict Kiely he explains: ‘The

summer when I was sixteen was a hot involved confusion: the 1981 hunger strikes,

school exams, riots in Dublin, teenage longings, a blaze of external and internal noise. It was the sort of summer when anything could have happened and I was at the sort of age when one hammers together the bits and pieces of a public and private self. In literary terms I was reading Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs, Ferlinghetti, anybody at all who would get me out of Ireland.’54

After five months of working for an international press syndicate, he was offered a job

as a photojournalist and his employer promised to arrange a permanent work visa for

him, but McCann, feeling that he was not ready for it, turned the offer down.

Additionally, he had a girlfriend back in Dublin. On returning to Ireland he worked briefly for a trade magazine before getting a job at the Evening Press, where his father

Sean McCann, also worked as a journalist. To his surprise, they offered him a year’s

contract, which probably could have led to a permanent job, but he decided to emigrate instead. With his friend, they had the idea of setting themselves up as property owners in the USA, sub-letting accommodation to Irish emigrants in Cape Cod. Presumably, it did not work out and they ended up cutting lawns to make living.

54 Kiely, B. (2001) The Collected Stories of Benedict Kiely (Introduction by Colum McCann). London:

Methuen Publishing Ltd.

27

Nevertheless, long time ago inspired by writings of Kerouac and Tom Wolfe, McCann

was planning a grand tour of the Unites Sates. Therefore, he started working long hours, cutting lawns during the day, driving a taxi by night and raking bunkers on a golf course early in the morning. Then he took off for travelling across America on the bike

accompanied by a friend. Before he set out on the journey, he had promised himself he

would never stay in a motel or get on the train at any point of his journey and he managed to keep that promise.

With his companion, he travelled down to Florida and across to New Orleans and from

New Orleans he continued alone. He lightened up a bit and often stopped off along the way for a few days or even weeks. In terms of his next writing, this has been an important and inspiring experience: ‘That way, I met a lot of fascinating people, many

of them very kind and generous.’55 From New Orleans, he went on to Texas, south to Mexico, then north through the Colorado mountains and on to Canada, before finishing in San Francisco after two years on the road.

After this episode, he had enough raw material to fill several novels and he really began

to write some fiction. On his return to Ireland, he wrote a short story about a young girl

who becomes pregnant which won a Hennessy Prize. His travelling was not over, though. He went back to Texas to work on ‘Wilderness Program’ aimed at rehabilitating

of young offenders. When the program was completed, he enrolled on an Arts Course at the University of Texas, where he also joined a graduate writers’ workshop. According to his own words the workshop was very helpful in that it ‘forced me to sit down and write and I was getting feedback from other writers.’56 At that time, he was sending off

lots of short stories to magazines and publishers and getting loads of rejections, therefore he decided to hold back for a while and improve his writing technique.

He was lucky, though. A friend of McCann’s father, David Marcus was putting together a collection of Britain’s new writing in 1993 and asked McCann if he’d had published anything recently. McCann had published one story called Sisters in a small college

55 Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’, Books Ireland, Summer 1994, No 178, p.154.

56 Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’. Books Ireland. Summer 1994, No 178, p. 155.

28

magazine with a circulation about fifty. He sent it off and ironically the story had been published in Best Short Stories (edited by Giles Gordon and David Hughes), alongside

the stories of writers such as Edna O’Brien. As a result of this McCann became

represented by Giles Gordon, one of the most influential agents in London and gained a contract with Phoenix House, a prestigious publisher.

However, he got married to a New York girl in 1992 and after the wedding she wanted to go to Japan and so McCann wrote most of the stories published in his first collection

Fishing the Sloe-Black River there. ‘I wrote three of the stories in Fishing the SloeBlack River in a hostel room the length of an average body and the width of two with

people coming and going all hours of the day and night.’57 Despite his qualifications, he

could no sooner get a job than they moved to Southern Japan where their circumstances improved.

In 1994 he won the Rooney Prize for Irish Literature (for the Fishing the Sloe-Black River) which can be regarded as an official beginning of his career as a writer. From

now on he has published both successful novels and short stories collections. Apart

from the Rooney Prize, he has won the Irish Hennessy and Butler awards and was shortlisted for the IMPACT award.

Currently McCann lives with his wife and three children in New York where he settled

in 1998 and his last book so far is a much-acclaimed novel Dancer. He has written for various newspapers, including the Herald, Evening Press, and Connaught Telegraph, in

Ireland, and for United Press International in New York City. He is recognized as one

of the best contemporary Irish writers, though living abroad. Concerning his

‘emigration’ he says: ‘Because I’ve been travelling so much I probably haven’t suffered so much as others...It’s when you settle into a daily work routine that the homesickness really hits you...I am very concerned about the diaspora of emigration and the terrible sadness it causes, both for those who leave and those who are left behind. But it’s no

57 Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’. Books Ireland. Summer 1994, No 178, p.155.

29

only sadness and I hope that the joy of the living in another country and opportunity also comes through in my writing.58.

McCann’s fiction as a mixture of Irishness and global understanding of the world Style

Paradoxically, McCann’s style ignores frontiers between the styles and forms. It is

hardly possible to put him in one particular group of writers who share similar style or use similar devices to express themselves. He attempts to examine the world and pass

on what he has revealed and he does so by means of inventing new ways and shapes. He

is eclectic and postmodern in this regard. Earlier on, he was labelled a deep realist,

which is a bit too restrictive term. Indeed, McCann has been influenced by Magic

Realism of the South America and the presence of magic realistic features in his works

is evident (e.g. mothers fishing the river in search for their sons in the Fishing the SloeBlack River). However, there are more literary styles and devices which have had an

impact on his writing and which are present in his fiction.

He was definitely influenced by authors of the Beat Generation such as Kerouac, Ginsberg or Ferlinghetti, who tried to make their writing automatic and avoided the conscious control. McCann does not go that far but in his descriptions of images he

frequently just compiles details which are often linked together through associations

only and uses extremely long sentences, which was by the way, favoured by the Beats

as well. To illustrate this point we present this extract from the beginning of the short story Along the Riverwall:

‘Fergus nudges his wheelchair up to the riverwall and watches the Liffey flow quickly along,

bloated from an evening rain, a cargo of night sky and neon, all bellying down towards Dublin bay. He remembers his father once heaving a fridge into the river and wonders what else might lie down there. Flakes of gold paint from the Guinness barges perhaps. Blackened shells from

British army gunboats. Condoms and needles. Old black kettles...And many and old bicycle no

58 Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’. Books Ireland. Summer 1994, No 178, p.155.

30

doubt. Down there with wheels sinking slowly in the mud, handlebars galloping with algae, gear cables, rusted into the housing, tiny fish nosing around the pedals.’59

Speaking of the conscious control and planning the story in advance, McCann says that before writing a novel or a story he knows, what he wants to express but before it is finished, he doesn’t know how (by what means) to do it:

‘At first, I didn’t set out to write from the point of view children in Northern Ireland. It

just happened that way. I work in a sort of emotional blizzard, nothing is mapped out and I try to move forward, sometimes blindly [he concerns the stories from Everything in This Country Must].’60

However, it does not suggest the absence of material studies. On the contrary, before McCann wrote the novel This Side of Brightness about homeless people living in

tunnels under Manhattan in New York, he had spent many days down there getting to know the people and exploring the location. He asks:

‘As a novelist should you go homeless for a number of years to find out what homelessness is? Or is it more acute to actually sit down and listen to these people's stories and write them with as much honesty as you can, learn that way, and then make

an imaginative leap? I spent the best part of a year - three or four times a week, going down to the tunnels and hanging out, getting to know people, and then immersing myself in a fair amount of research that had to be done on the building of the tunnels.’61

Moreover, in his stories such as Fishing the Sloe-Black River, he blends features of

social realism and a magic realist construct. He can be realistic and very lyrical at the

same time. Ciaron Carty, together with many others, claims that ‘McCann’s terse narrative style combines austere lyricism with elegant realism.’62 In his review on the

collection Fishing the Sloe-Black River Tony Connelly remarks on McCann’s style that

59 McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p. 53.

60 Kelly, S. ‘The Moral Complexity of Life in the North’, Books Ireland. Summer 2000. No 232. p. 166.

61 Margetts, J. ‘Interview with Colum McCann.‘ [online] cit. December 1st 2005.

62 Carty, C. (1995) ‘Songdogs’ (the review). The Sunday Tribune Magazine, June 11th , 1995, p.19.

31

it ‘is almost painfully wistful and breathtaking in its lyricism...and each chapter appears

like a poem which arches into a story.’63 Although most his stories are socially and politically critical, McCann always remains vividly poetic. Perhaps his most poetic

work so far is the novel Songdogs.

What he avoids is expressing things explicitly, he is confident enough ‘to let images do

the talking,’ as John Dunne remarks64. He keeps things hidden and as Dunne stresses, ‘is

not obsessed, unlike so many of his peers, with explaining everything. He does not treat

words as mere plot carriers; on the contrary, he recognises the magic hidden behind the words’65.

McCann’s writing is fiercely imagined and the vivid imagination is one of the most

distinctive features of his prose. He prefers to express through images to stating things more straightforwardly. For instance, the novel Songdogs is, according to Mahony, ‘a palimpsest of images.’66 She implies that once again McCann uses typical postmodern

literary method and piles up individual images one over another. Jumping forward and back in time, he ignores chronology and cohesion. It is not the plot, which holds the

novel together but associations and repeating motives, which link individual images.

Not the plot but images are important to McCann. Stating things this way the novel requires an attentive reader who is able to reveal the message even though it is expressed indirectly.

From McCann’s writing we can notice that he can view the world in a defamiliarized

way which is a great luck for the artist. He sees things differently than others and also he notices things that others do not and this, if nothing else, makes him worth reading. In other words, he is original in viewing the world around him as he has a special gift

63 Connelly, T. ‘Only Just Irish’. Irish Independent. Weekender Supplement. June 4th . 1994. p.11.

64 Dunne, J. ‘Fishing the Sloe-Black River’. Books Ireland. September 1994. No 179. p.201. 65 Dunne, J. ‘Fishing the Sloe-Black River’. Books Ireland. September 1994. No 179. p.201.


32

for it. Antonia Logue claims that he ‘has a rare scope of vision of the world and this sort of originality can never be underestimated.’67

What is stated above implies that McCann’s fiction is rather complex. Even though his

stories often seem simple at first sight, they have an unexpected depth. The short story Cathal’s Lake demonstrates this point perfectly; it is about a hidden lake with many

swans adrift on its surface on a winter morning. Cathal, a farmer, is freeing the swans from the ice and only slowly we realize that each swan is the spirit of another murder in

the North and that everything is actually much more complex. This story is also a good example of McCann’s blending different styles as well. Bolger asserts that McCann ‘is effortlessly blending realism and surrealism in it.’68

McCann’s great advantage is his versatility. John Dunne claims that ‘he has a wide repertoire of voices.’69 He is good at both short stories and novels. If we look at his

volumes of short stories, we can see that he completely changes modes even within one

collection. In Fishing the Sloe-Black River each of the stories differs from others. They differ in everything but the themes. In one story he brings us to American countryside

and gives us a perfect description of a local landscape as well as he manages to evocate the atmosphere and the mind of the place. Then we get back to the rural Ireland and then we suddenly find ourselves in San Francisco.

It is not only the location he changes, though. He works with different narrative styles;

from a child’s perspective and a first-person narrator in the stories of Everything in This

Country Must to an omniscient (‘objective’) narrator in the stories such as Along the

Riverwall.

McCann’s versatility comes up in his usage of the language as well. He often uses a

wide range of language across the language layers. For instance, in the stories Breakfast

67 Logue, A. ‘Tickets to the end of the night’. Sunday Independent. May 8th. 1994. p.8L.

68 Bolger, D. ‘Exciting and Vibrant New Irish Voice’. Sunday Tribune, May 22nd . 1994. p.B8.

69 Dunne, J. ‘Fishing the Sloe-Black River’. Books Ireland. September 1994. No 179. p.201.

33

for Enrique or Along the Riverwall in the narrator’s voice McCann uses strictly very

formal, sometimes even old-fashioned English (‘...and many and old bicycles’70)

whereas in the direct speech or epithets he uses spoken English, Irish English and

frequently he uses vulgarisms and slang words, which make the dialogues more authentic:

‘Betty reaches up above her for the box of Marlboro Lights and slides them on the counter,

towards me. ‘My treat,’ she says. ‘Don’t smoke ‘em all in one one place, hon.’ I thank her profusely and tuck them quickly in my shirt pocket. Betty leans over the counter and touches my left hand: ‘And tell that man of yours I want to see his cute Argentinean ass in here one of these days.’71

As stated above McCann’s language can also be very poetic. He uses a lot of metaphoric expressions, works with symbols, calls things indirectly and in general, his language is very imaginative.

Michael O’Connor notes that ‘McCann’s taut prose, imaginative descriptions and

characters that seem to be too deep to have been created in so few words.’72 To borrow McCann’s own descriptions, for a change, his writing is ‘as sharp as a new blade of grass’73.

Themes

As we have already mentioned earlier on in this work, one of the most dominant themes

of McCann’s works is emigration; an exile as an endless possibility. Mahony suggests that McCann’s tendency to focus on exile is not surprising at all because it ‘remains a

70 McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p.147.

71 McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p.29.

72 O’Connor, M. ‘Fishing the Sloe Black River’ [online]. cit January 17th 2006.

73 O’Connor, M. ‘Fishing the Sloe Black River’ [online]. cit January 17th 2006.

34

fact of life in Ireland’74 Bolger supports this notion: ‘Four of the eight writers born in

Ireland in the sixties live outside Ireland, along with six or so of those born in the 50s’75.

Additionally, it is a personal matter for McCann because he himself has lived abroad since he graduated.

Nevertheless, it is necessary to stress that McCann’s viewpoint of emigration is different from Irish writers of previous generations such as Joseph O’Conner or Michael

Collins. They tended to go to live in England whereas McCann settled down on the other side of the world in the end. Shirley Kelly remarks: ‘His [McCann’s] is a world of endless possibilities and less then splendid isolation, a million miles from the Irish clubs

of London and Boston where emigrants of a previous generation sang sentimental ballads over endless pints of Guinness.’76

Mary Morrissy asserts that ‘the dominant feature of Fishing the Sloe-Black River is

McCann’s struggle to understand at a distance his relationship to his native place.’77 We

would dare to say that it is the dominant feature of most of his books (except for the novels This Side of Brightness and The Dancer), in fact.

In McCann’s fiction exile is usually presented as a form of displacement. In his stories

he depicts many completely different characters but what they often share is the feeling of sadness, loneliness, and displacement.

In the novella Hunger Strike there are these two elderly Lithuanian holocaust survivors,

who live in Galway. Even the main character, an Irish boy, in this short fiction is a

typical McCann’s dislocated character. Despite moving from Derry (Londonderry) to Galway only he suffers from all the typical symptoms of exiles’ sadness.

One of the characters of the short story Basket Full of Wallpaper is a Japanese man who may or may not be a survivor of Hiroshima who fled to a rural area of Ireland.



Publishers. p. XXVII.

76 Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’. Books Ireland. Summer 1994, No 178. p. 154.

77 Morrissy, M. ‘The Ills of Ireland Home and Away’, Irish Times, May 31, 1994, p.14.

35

In the story Breakfast for Enrique both the main characters are exiles, who live in

States. One Argentinean, one Irish, they both dream about having a farm in South America instead.

McCann’s characteristic hero is a dislocated and lonely man or woman living in exile

and this exile does not necessarily have to be a real one in a geographical sense but it can be an imagined one.

However, McCann does not produce only stories of Irish exiles and various states of

dislocation. There are some which seem to have nothing to do with emigration or Ireland but one can never be sure about this. Though right from the start McCann’s

work has been marked by an international vision and global awareness, he says that

Ireland figures one way or another in much of his writing.78 He admits that ‘...whatever I

write I’m not sure I’m not writing about the Irish themes – exile, family, return.’79

Especially at the beginning of his career he frequently wrote about the Northern

Troubles. There are many writers who feel the need to write about it but McCann does it in slightly different way then most others do. Rather than focussing on politics, he depicts individuals’ lives and the way political events determine their lives. Using this viewpoint he achieves higher authenticity, sincerity and, above all, poignancy.

Actually, McCann’s focussing on individuals instead of political abstracts is one of the most distinctive features of his fiction. He depicts people’s everyday lives and show how they are impacted up by political events of which they are only dimply aware. All three stories from Everything in This Country Must deal with political and social

situation in the North but despite the theme, their purpose is not political at all.

Desmond Trayner claims: ‘They [the three stories] are almost three memories, three

78 Kelly, S. ‘The Moral Complexity of the Life in the North’. Books Ireland. Summer 2000. No 232. p. 166.

79 Kelly, S. ‘The Moral Complexity of the Life in the North’. Books Ireland. Summer 2000. No 232.

p.166.

36

moments in time that changed the course of their [characters] lives from innocence to the greyness and moral ambiguity of ordinary life.’80

In many of his works McCann depicts people on periphery. When The Dancer was

published people were sort of surprised that from the book about homeless people living

in the subway tunnels (This Side of Brightness) he had gone to write about a gay

Russian ballet dancer (The Dancer). There seems to be a big gap between the themes he

deals with in these subsequent books but in fact, there is not; in both of them McCann is

interested in people living on some sort of periphery.

McCann’s fiction, in general, is very poignant and to conclude this chapter we would

like to quote Jocelyn Clarke, who asserts that ‘he [McCann] articulates a tragichumanistic vision of the world.’81

Fishing the Sloe-Black River

McCann’s first book to be published was the short stories collection called Fishing the Sloe-Black River (1994) by which he managed to draw attention to himself. The New

Yorker compared Colum McCann to writers such as Hemingway or Kerouac which is

undoubtedly a great success for a young writer; ‘McCann seems to be powerfully

influential man of feeling, like Hemingway and Kerouac, Cormac McCarthy and Bruce Chatman.’82

The dominant feature of this collection, in our opinion, is McCann’s struggle to understand an emigrant’s relation to the native place. In each story, there are present McCann’s over-arching themes of love, loss, remembrance, despair, hope and loneliness but they never become repetitive.

80 Trayner, D. ‘Naivety’. Books Ireland. Summer 2000, No 232, p. 173.

81 Clarke, J. ‘They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?’. The Sunday Tribune Magazine. Art Life Section. May 14th. 2000. p. 9.

82 McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). Critical acclaim. London: Phoenix House.

37

The title of the first story, Sisters, is an interesting repetition of the first story of Joyce’s

Dubliners. This story begins with an Irish cliche (two sisters growing up i rural Ireland

in the 1960s) but as Conelly asserts, ‘McCann transforms it into something more subtle.

Two sisters epitomise polar opposites of Irish womanhood. The narrator, Sheona is a good time girl – fond of dancing, drinking and casual sex, her sister, Brigid, an anorexic virgin destined for the nunnery. As the story progresses, these roles are gradually reversed.83

Similarly to Along the Riverwall, in this story there are some beautiful passages describing parts of Dublin which are so accomplished that one can almost see them in

front of his eyes and feel the atmosphere of this strange city (ugly and in a way beautiful at the same time):

‘Days in Dublin were derelict and ordinary. A flat on Appian Way near enough to Raglan Road, where my own dark hair weaved a snare. Thirteen years somehow slipped away...I watched

unseen as a road sweeper in Temple Bar whistled like he had a bird in his throat. I began to

notice cranes leapfrogging across the skyline. Dublin was cosmopolitan. A drug addict in a doorway on Leeson Street ferreted in his bowels for a small bag of cocaine. Young boys wore baseball hats. The canals carried fabulously coloured litter. The postman asked me if I was lonely...’84

The title story is by many critics regarded as the weakest; it ‘tackles the theme of

emigration head-on and to my mind, is the least satisfactory of McCann’s fictions. The

central image of mothers fishing in the river for their absent sons is arresting and enchanting but the story is an uneasy mix of magic and social realism.’85

This story describes surreal and imaginary riverbank of a small Irish town where elderly

parents cast rods into the water, fishing for their emigrated children, even though they

know how futile it was as ‘the river looked not a bit like the Thames or the Darling or the Hudson or the Loire or even the Rhine itself...’86

83 84 85 86

Conelly, T. ‘Keltic Tales of Our Days’. London Times. May 23rd. 31e. 1994.

McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p.10.

Morrissy, M. ‘The Ills of Ireland home and away’. Irish Times, May 31st, 1994, p.14.

McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House.p. 56.

38

There are other touching depictions of the exile’s life in this collection – the sadness

and dislocation of an Irish social worker in New York in Stolen Child or the heartening

tale with echoes of the life of Irish boxer, Jack Doyle, called Step We Gaily, On We Go.

It tells us the story of Old Flaherty, former boxing champion living in States, who ended up spending time stealing women’s clothes from a laundrette and then rushing

home with them so as to be on time for tea prepared by Juanita for him. No sooner do we realize the sadness of the story than we get to know that Juanita does not live with Flaherty anymore. Actually, they split 25 years ago.

In Around the Bend and Beck again ‘McCann is a convincing ventriloquist who catches

inner voices with ease...he manages to capture the same mesmeric Gothic madness that Patrick McCabe achieved in the Butcher Boy.87

The narrator, a cleaner in a mental asylum, gets involved with a female patient and

through his eyes the reader sees the inevitable tragic end. Morrisy asserts that ‘it is risky

for a writer to make his characters less-knowing then himself and McCann manages it with style.’88

The last story to be mentioned now is Cathal’s Lake, generally considered to be one of

the most accomplished stories in the book: ‘The stories that work best here are those

which take their relationship with place for granted...Breakfast for Enrique and Cathal’s

Lake, about an old man freeing a new born swan, which has all the simple intensity of

McGahern. As Cathal makes his ritual journey to the lake, he considers the grief of the latest casualty in the North.’89 It is an extremely poignant and fiercely imagined writing:

‘A crowd gathering together, faces twitching, angry. The boy still alive in his house of burnt

skin. Maybe his lung collapsed and a nurse bent over him. A young mother, her face hysterical with mascara stains, flailing at the air with soapy fists, remembering a page of unfinished

87 88 89

Morrissy, M. ‘The Ills of Ireland home and away’. Irish Times, May 31st. 1994, p.14.



39

homework left on the kitchen table beside a vase of wilting marigolds...Upstairs, in his bedroom

a sewing needle with ink on the very tip, where the boy had been tattooing a four-letter word on his knuckles. Love or hate or fuck or hope.’90

The story is about a farmer who digs swans out from under the muck of a lakeside and

as it progresses, we realize that each bird being freed is actually another murder victim in the North. John Somer points out to the fact that the story is even more complex and

has one more layer: ‘McCann depicts the artist as one cursed to ignore his practical

duties in order to respond with beauty to the world’s ugliness. Because a young Irishman burned and died in the explosion of his own Molotov cocktail, Cathal, the protagonist of the story must once again surrender to the irrational and dig up a swan

from the mug of creation, where it waits to be born. To fulfil his aesthetic obligation of liberating beauty, then, the artist must embrace the human condition with all its

confusion and corruption, both personal and political. In one sense, Cathal’s peculiar curse is the job description of all writers, but additionally, it is the destiny of Irish writers.’91

Along the Riverwall, Breakfast for Enrique – Detailed analysis of the stories

We have chosen particularly these two stories for detailed analysis for two reasons; firstly, we believe that the two stories belong among the most poignant and touching

stories of the collection and especially concerning Along the Riverwall, there were slightly melancholic reasons which made us write about it, too.

Knowing Dublin quite well, one recalls lots of details when reading the story. It depicts the place in such a way that it arises in front of one’s eyes with all its beautiful and ugly

attributes. McCann obviously likes the city and does not avoid melancholy but he never idealises the reality. On the contrary, he describes the city as it really is and includes the

90 91

McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p. 174. Daly, J., Somer, J. (2001). The Scribner Book of Irish Writing. London: Scribner.

40

litter on the surface of Liffey and writes about ‘drunks belching out of the pub’92 or ‘a

crowd of drunks huffing glue down on the quays’93 simply because that is the real

Dublin. However, in McCann’s presentation even the litter in the river can be poetic.

Secondly, the two stories are suitable for exemplifying many of the typical features of McCann’s writing.

Allong the riverwall PLOT AND CHARACTERS

Fergus, the protagonist of the story, is a young man, who loves cycling. He used to ride

a bike for a messenger company and also he had some ambitions in contests. However, after a car crash, he ended up in a wheelchair, which he is trying to reconcile himself to.

An important issue of this story is Fergus’s relationship with his father, who refuses to accept the idea of his sun not riding a bike again. When Fergus gets home from the

hospital, he finds many boxes with spare parts waiting for him to be pieced together. The bike has been damaged completely in the crash and his father, obsessed with the

idea of Fergus’s recovering, has spent most of his money on the parts as he wanted Fergus to ride again.

Fergus works hard putting the bike together and, when it is finished, there comes the truth and he must admit that the bike is ‘a fossil and the only thing it could be ridden

with is a perfect cadence of imagination.’94 Realizing this, he starts an inverted process.

He slowly dismantles it and night after night he takes the individual parts to the river

where he throws them away and he does not stop until the whole bike is in the river where it joins many other useless things such as ‘condoms and needles. Old black

kettles. Pennies and prams. History books, harmonicas, fingernails and baskets full of dead flowers...’95

92 93 94 95





41

Concerning the ordering of plot, McCann deliberately breaks the temporal sequence and begins at the end of Fergus’s story and then works backward to the beginning and then forward again. We encounter Fergus when he nudges the wheelchair along the riverwall

contemplating life and only afterwards we learn that he used to be a messenger and that he was injured in the car crash. Naturally, broken chronology is more demanding in

terms of the reader’s perceptiveness but on the other hand, the chronological parts are rearranged ‘for the sake of emphasis and effect,’ James H Pickering and Jeffrey D Hoepper explains 96. In McCann’s case, it definitely meets its function as the interaction of the joyful past and gloomy present increases the poignancy of the story, intensifying

the contrast between the two periods in Fergus’s life. It is important to stress that

despite the rearranged temporal sequence, the plausibility and unity of the story is not weakened.

Fergus is characterised mainly through his acts and through dialogues, McCann does not tell the readers what they should think of him and lets them form their own opinion

on the protagonist. This is in agreement with McCann’s general idea of stating things

inexplicitly. Like in other layers of his writing, he provides the readers with sufficient space for forming their opinion on things themselves. POINT OF VIEW

For the same reason, we believe, he does not take an advantage of the third-person narration, which gives him the opportunity to see into minds of the characters. McCann hardly ever comments on character’s emotions even though the story is presented from the omniscient point of view. He sticks with describing what they think of but avoids

explaining their feelings as the reader himself is supposed to reconstruct these from characters’ acting.

96

Pickering, J.H. Hoeper, J.D.(1986). Literature (2nd ed.). New York: Macmillan Publishing

Company.p.25.

42

THEMES

McCann’s general theme, which appears in both Breakfast for Enrique and Along the Riverwall and repeats in many of his fictions, is the absurd futility of human existence.

In the analysed story it is expressed through Fergus’s building up the new bike despite

the evident uselessness of it. McCann goes even further and makes his character dismantle the whole thing and piece by piece bring it to the river ‘for a swim’ 97

In Breakfast for Enrique it is represented by the idea of swimming against the current;

Enrique sometimes wakes at night and babbles. He narrates about the game he used to

play with his friends as a child. They would compete in swimming against the current

and the one who stayed the longest at one place was a winner. It sometimes happened to Enrique that he would still be there, swimming in the current without noticing that his friends were already halfway down. Slowly we realize that it is exactly what happened

to O’Meara and Enrique; they both fight with Enrique’s illness without noticing that the battle has been already lost.

In Along the Riverwall this futility of swimming against the current is referred to by the motif of the circles on the Liffey as well:

‘Down below, on the surface, concentric circles fling themselves outwards, reaching for the

riverwalls in huge gestures, as if looking for something, galloping outwards, the river itself shifting its circles for another moment, moving its whipped water along...’98

There is one more typically McCann’s theme which appears in this story; human loneliness, accompanied by the feeling of sadness and isolation. Fergus, being put right

from the bicycle saddle in a wheelchair, experiences an absurd dislocation which he

reacts at in an absurd manner. He has got everything that McCann’s typical character should have; he is deeply sad which makes him lonely and because of his disability he suddenly finds himself on a social periphery in a way.

97 98



43

Children-parents’ relationship is a traditional Irish theme which McCann frequently

deals with. In Along the Riverwall, it is referred to by Fergus’s relationship to his father, who actually aggravates his situation by pushing him to get on the bike again. The

relationship is more complex, though. Fergus’s father himself had to sacrifice a lot to be able to get Fergus the new bike and he obviously did it for love and not realizing he makes things worse for Fergus. STYLE

As noted above McCann’s writing is very poetic which he achieves through working

effectively with language. In terms of diction, he uses lots of abstract and figurative expressions and successfully combines formal and informal language devices.

In Along the Riverwall, he uses a wide range of language expressions, from words

which border with terms such as nipples of the spokes, cotter pin, front forks, derailleur etc. to abstract expressions like emphatic hope or nagging insistence. Moreover, he

combines them with a great skill, therefore the reader never gets the impression that this mixing is inappropriate.

In lyrical passages McCann uses many figurative devices, mainly similes (be tossed in the air like a stale crust), metaphoric (necklace of oil) and metonymic expressions (song of tyres, bucketfuls of sun, Liffey – a cargo of night sky and neon), and personification

(Liffey guides a winter wind along its broadbacked banks, trees curtsied down the road). It is the language above all, that makes McCann’s stories so poetic.

As far as the poetic devices are concerned, we would like to present an extract from the story in order to demonstrate how poetic and lyrical McCann’s images can be:

‘It [the bicycle wheel] flares out over the river, then almost seems to stop. The wheels appeared

suspended there in the air, caught by a fabulous lightness, the colours from along the quays

whirling in its spin, collecting energy from the push of the sky reeling outwards, simultaneously serene and violent, a bird ready to burst into flight...’99

99

McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House.p.156.

44

Speaking of McCann’s style, it is necessary to mention syntactical devices he uses. He

predominantly uses extremely long, complex sentences, which are mostly linked

asyndetonically, which ‘slows down and retard the pace of narrative.’100 This feature is

characteristic of the lyrical, imaginary passages whereas in the dialogues and passages

conveying the plot, McCann prefers shorter and less complicated sentences in order to hasten the narrative. Applying these syntactical devices serves to change the rhythm of the narrative and helps to avoid monotony and boredom.

Another distinctive feature of McCann’s style, present in Along the Riverwall, is the

perfect evocation of the place. In fact, it appears to be very significant feature of this story in particular and the following extract illustrates how suggestive McCann can be;

‘Down along the quays things are still quiet. The exhaust fumes from a couple of lorries make

curious shapes in the air, sometimes caught in mid-flight with a streak of neon from a shop or a sign. A couple of pedestrians stroll along on the opposite side of the river, huddled under anorak hoods.’101

What is McCann respected for, is the way he can combine lyricism and realism which

again is the case of the analysed story. Apart from the lyrical and poetic passages

discussed above, there are parts in this story where the realistic techniques are dominant:

‘And out in the coalshed, for two months, in the wheelchair, Fergus sweated over the bicycle.

He tightened the nipples of the spokes on the right hand side of the wheel to bring it to the left,

took the cotter pin and tapped it until the fat leap came out of the pedals, used the third hand to hold the brakes in place, dropped in the new set of front forks, plied the thin little Phillips head screwdriver to adjust the gears...’102

100

Pickering, J.H. Hoeper, J.D.(1986). Literature (2nd ed.). New York: Macmillan Publishing Company.

p. 67. 101

102

McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p. 153.


45

Last but not the least thing to be mentioned is the surreal atmosphere of some parts which is also significant in terms of McCann’s style. From time to time, he switches

into different mode and employs dreamy and fantastic features but still, he presents such an image as it is completely real. In the analysed story, the best scene to exemplify it is probably the one describing what happens to the bike at the bottom of the river:

‘...And many an old bicycle, no doubt. Down there with wheels sinking slowly into the mud,

handlebars galloping with algae, gear cables rusted into the housing, tiny fish nosing around the pedals.’103

Breakfast for Enrique

PLOT AND CHARACTERS

The story Breakfast for Enrique definitely belongs among the most poignant stories of

the collection. Antonia Logue estimates it to ‘exemplify McCann’s skill as a writer’ as

he ‘uses words to fill his stories with a tenderness and fragility that is more powerful than any ranting anger...’104

The short story describes one morning in a life of a young Irishman living in San Francisco. O’Meara, as he is called, works as a fish-gutter and lives with his lover

Enrique, who is dying of AIDS. One day O’Meara gets up and decides not to go to work immediately but go and get Enrique a breakfast instead, even though he will be late for work.

The story line is interrupted by his recalling of other breakfasts he had a long time ago and by this means we learn more about his past.

As noted above, it is full of sadness; the protagonist is doing his best to prepare a great breakfast and spend a nice moment with the one he loves but Enrique’s disease ruins all

the attempts. Likewise, in Along the Riverwall, McCann shows how futile it is to fight

with human fate. When the breakfast is ready and the short dialogue over Enrique,

weakened by AIDS, hardly eats anything and falls asleep. For the protagonist of the


103

104

Loghue, A. ‘Tickets to the End of the Night’. Sunday Independent. May 8th. 1994. 8L.

46

story it is an impulse to sober up and suddenly, he realizes that ‘we [Enrique and him]

are in the stream...that the traffic below is flowing quite steadily, trying to carry us

along, while all the time he [Enrique] is beating his arms against the current, staying still, keeping on one place...’105

The story is narrated chronologically, step by step O’Meara describes what he does that morning only sometimes the chronological order is broken by flashbacks referring to his

past, as stated above. These flashbacks are usually sparkled off by O’Meara’s associations; he is walking along the aisles in the shop thinking of what he can afford and suddenly a breakfast in an Irish suburban kitchen comes to his mind and all of a sudden, we find ourselves in Ireland many years backwards:

‘I move up the aisles, looking at the prices, fingering the $3.80 in my pocket...walking down the rows of food, other breakfasts come back to me - sausages and rashers fried in a suburban Irish kitchen with an exhaust fan sucking up the smoke, plastic glasses full of orange juice,

cornflakes floating on milk...In the background Gay Byrne would talk on the radio while my late mother draped herself over the stove with a patterned apron on, watching the steam rise from the kettle...

I reach for a small plastic jar of orange juice and a halfdozen eggs in the deli fridge, two oranges and a banana in the fruit stand, then tuck a loaf of a French bread under my arm.’106

Although the dominant factor determining an unreeling the plot is chronology, sometimes it is the principle of association which rules the arrangement of the plot. The narrator never hesitates to stop to present what has just come across his mind:

‘...When scrambling eggs I always make sure to add a little milk and whisk the fork around the bowl quickly so that none of the small stringy pieces of white will be left when they’re cooked. The only disturbing thing about my mother’s breakfasts were the long thin raw pieces. The

kitchen is small, with only room for one person to move. I lay the baguette on the counter and lice it...’ 107

105 106 107




47

Such an ordering of plot make the story more accomplished but, naturally, requires a more attentive reader.

Characters of this story are, like in Along the Riverwall, characterised mainly through

showing but here, McCann pays more attention to describing their appearance. Enrique,

in particular, is depicted thoroughly because his appearance serves to reflect on his health condition. Similarly, the shop assistant Betty is drawn thoroughly in terms of her appearance and, we believe, that the author does it to hep the reader to imagine what she

is like. The author describes her appearance and shows how she acts in order to enlighten her human qualities without directly describing them.

48

POINT OF VIEW

This time McCann used the first-person point of view, whose biggest advantage is ‘the

marvellous sense of immediacy, credibility and psychological realism’ 108 and, additionally, it enables him to focus on O’Meara’s feelings and his inner life. Through the first-person narrator, he achieved a greater insistency and vividness.

The narration is often interrupted not only by the flashbacks, mentioned above, but also by epithets, which O’Meara is used to hearing from his colleagues at work and which he

keeps recalling. Involving them in a story is actually a very interesting feature as in a way they represent another point of view. Told from the character’s point of view, the

whole narration is naturally subjective but on the other hand, we get these other fishermen’s comments, which indicate how others look at O’Meara and Enrique and additionally, they heighten the couple’s loneliness.

THEMES

The theme of human swimming against the current has been discussed in the section focussed on Along the Riverwall, therefore we will proceed to other thematic elements

of the story.

Both O’Meara and Enrique are McCann’s classic characters; cut-off and lonely

immigrants, forced further on to the periphery by Enrique’s disease and their sexual

orientation. Nevertheless, however lonely O’Meara feels now with Enrique, it is not as bad as what lies ahead of him for Enrique is going to die soon and then there will be nobody else but him.

Mary Morrissy asserts that ‘the dominant feature of Fishing the Sloe-Black River [the

whole collection] is McCann’s struggle to understand at a distance his relationship to his native place,’109 which we agree with, therefore we want to point out to an interesting element of the analysed story. There is a scene when O’Meara finds the Irish

108 109


Morrissy, M. ‘The Ills of Ireland home and away’. Irish Times. May 31. 1994. p.14.

49

quarter pound and comments it on saying that it is ‘an anachronism, a memory’110. One of the possible interpretations, implied by this scene, is that it is the way McCann

himself views his relationship to Ireland but at this point we must stress that it is rather an impulse for consideration than a statement.

Whatever this scene says about the author himself, we might be sure that it clarifies O’Meara’s relationship to the native place and, evidently, he does not intend to come back to Ireland. That is the paradox faced by many voluntary exiles; they are not happy where they live but they do not want to come back home even though they could. It is a

sort of curse; if they went home, they would feel the same dislocation to they face

abroad. We are getting to one of the points raised in the section dedicated McCann’s

general themes. This is the difference between emigration as it features in Irish literature of the eighties, for example, and the way McCann presents it. STYLE

The language devices used in the story are very similar to those used in Along the

Riverwall, therefore we will not discuss them so thoroughly this time. However, it is

necessary to stress that they are very varied. McCann uses both concrete and abstract language, formal and informal English along with figurative expressions.

What is unique about McCann’s style is that right beside poetic expressions, we come across vulgarisms such as lazy shits or asshole. They are to be found in epithets only,

though. Apart from the epithets and the dialogues, McCann uses formal English.

Informal English in the dialogues and epithets has its function as they are more natural and convincing if informal language is utilized as that is the way people ordinarily

communicate. For the same reason, the epithets and dialogues contain slang expressions as well.

The narrative, on the other hand, is characteristic of figurative language. McCann creates exceptionally good metaphoric expressions (a small smile crackling the edges, I

watch this body of Enrique, this house of sweat, this language of amino acids) and

similes (his hair dark and strewn like a seaweed, the scar on his chin worn like the

110


50

wrongly-tight knot of a Persian rug or Enrique’s coughing sounds like the rasp of the seals along the coastline cliffs further up the California shore).

In this story, he slightly shortens the sentences and make them less complex through which he achieves greater dynamicity of the narrative.

To conclude the section dedicated to the language devices of the stories, we would like

to stress that language and the way McCann works with it belongs among the most significant features of his fiction.

Another distinctive feature of his style is, as noted above, blending various literary techniques and, of course, this feature can be found in Breakfast foe Enrique as well.

From focusing on details and meticulous reflecting reality in realistic passages McCann shifts to the imaginary and poetical descriptions of images in lyrical passages and creates some beautiful images:

‘It’s a strange light that comes this morning, older, thicker-wristed, pushing its way through the gap and lying with its smotes of dust, on the headboard.111

This extract is followed by a fisherman’s epithet and rather a realistic description of Enrique’s appearance:

Goddamn it, aren’t you two just a the salt of the earth?

Enrique is curled into himself, the curve of his back full against the spindle of his legs. His hair

all above his face. Stubbled hairs in a riot on his chin. His eyes have collected black bags and his white t-shirt still has smatterings of spaghetti sauce from yesterday’s lunch...’112

Last but not the least, we would like to point out to McCann’s inexplicitness; in this

story, there are many things hidden behind the words and the reader just has to reveal them. Loghue remarks that ‘the story is simple on the surface but has an uncommon depth.’113 For instance, in the concluding scene of the story O’Meara says:

111 112 113


McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p. 23-24. Loghue, A. ’Tickets to the End of the Night’ Sunday Independent, May 8th, 1994, 8L.

51

‘In a few moments I will go and to work and gut everything they bring me, but for now I watch this body of Enrique’s, this house of sweat, this language of amino acids, slowly being assaulted.’114

The story obviously takes place in San Francisco but McCann never mentions it. It is

only the description of the city which indicates that and this is typical about McCann’s

fiction. He does not say more that is needed and forces the reader to participate more actively, in Shirley Kelly’s words ‘he is not obsessed with explaining everything...’115

114 115

McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. p. 34-35.

Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’. Books Ireland, Summer 1994, No 178, p.154.

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Songdogs

McCann’s first novel Songdogs was published in 1995 and once again, it was a great success for McCann; in the Irish Independent they labeled it ‘an event in Irish writing’.

By publishing this novel he has established himself as a well-respected author.

In the Sunday Independent they wrote of it: ‘Potent, sometimes astonishing, fuelled by a

unique descriptive vision – the simplicity and power of the final two pages of Songdogs form one of the most technically and lyrically accomplished conclusions to a novel, debut or otherwise I have ever read’.116

As McCann explains in this novel, the Navajo Indians believed that the world was hawed into existence by coyotes, that their songs were the genesis of all other songs. Here the songdogs are the narrator’s parents and we are presented with a vivid

reconstruction of their lives. After an unusual childhood, his father, a photographer, drifts to Spanish Civil War, then through Mexico and America until he eventually ends

up back in Mayo, a bitter old man. Conor, the narrator, decides to follow his father’s

steps and sets off for travel to Mexico in search of his mother, a Mexican beauty, who

had left Mexico to live with Conor’s father in Ireland but then disappeared, when Conor was still a child.

The novel depicts McCann’s typical themes such as displacement of the characters (Conor’s Mexican mother, Juanita, in Mayo), the relationship between parents and their

children (Connor and his father), the theme of travelling and getting to know other places in order to learn more about oneself (Conor), in other words, search for identity (Connor travelling to Mexico in order to see his mother’s native place).

Nevertheless, this search is made more complicated by the fact that he has gone on a

real search for his mother in a foreign country and his metaphorical search for identity can only be found by reconnecting with his father and Ireland instead.

116 McCann, C. (1996). Songdogs (3rd ed.). Critical acclaim. London: Phoenix House. .

53

The biggest triumph of this novel is in its structure. Ciaran Carty makes a point that ‘the form doesn’t just shape the content but is shaped by it.’117 As Mahony says, both in

reality and his imagination, Conor reconstructs his parents’ steps. A visit in the Bronx is

conjured by an old photograph of a street scene. From it, he creates a life for the people

in the photo, a timeless emigrants’ tale. As McCann later brings the narrative of the past up to his parents’ return to the west of Ireland and the time of his own birth, the presentday narrative reveals that Michael (Conor’s father) is dying.118

Like his other books, it is very evocative (the description of the Mexican village life in

the 1940s) and imaginative although John Dunne criticise the part, in which Conor travels in search of his mother saying that ‘this imposes an unnecessary symmetry, a

tidiness which doesn’t leave enough gaps for the reader’s imagination.’ On the other hand, he stresses that the pages, where Conor imagines his parents’ life in New York are especially memorable.119

This Side of Brightness

McCann’s second novel was published in 1998 under the name This Side of Brightness. It takes place in New York or, in fact, under the city in the subway tunnels and among

homeless people, who live down there. From one point of view, this novel can be regarded as a sort of breakpoint in McCann’s writing because, at least seemingly, it has

nothing to do with Ireland. Still McCann goes on exploring traditional Irish themes such as family or poverty in this book. Nevertheless, there is no direct link in between Ireland and this novel.

117 Carty, C. ‘Songdogs’. The Sunday Tribune Magazine, June 11th. 1995, p.19.

118 For more details see: Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New York: St. Martin’s Press. p. 263-264.

119 For more details see: Dunne, J. ‘Songdogs’. Books Ireland. October 95. No 189. p.244.

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This Side of Brightness is, basically, a story of a single family over seventy years, but as John Dunne remarks ‘given the oblique way McCann tells it (not to mention the ambiguous blurb) you are more then halfway through before you recognize it.’120

It was this novel, which proved to be his breakthrough book, winning him an international critical acclaim. Shirley Kelly says it is ‘an ambitious saga spanning

seventy years of New York’s history, which explores the city’s underbelly, the labyrinthine subway system through the sweat and tears of the labourers, who built it

and through the alcoholic haze of social rejects who now inhabit it. It is a work of rare compassion and humanity...’121

McCann says that this novel ‘was sparked off by a story I [McCann] heard at a

party...story about how one of the construction workers was killed when sucked through a hole in the tunnel.’122

As we have already mentioned, McCann had prepared thoroughly before writing this novel. ‘I started to go down into the tunnels and discovered all these people living there. I made friends with couple of them and I still go down there now and then.’123

According to John Dunne, this novel is full of ‘extraordinarily haunting images’ that are

difficult to be found in any other book and these images are ‘so sharp and potent that McCann makes one realize that the only difference between the best prose and poetry is

one of the length.’124 He remarks that ‘with consummate and convincing ease McCann creates an atmosphere that will seep into your head and linger there for ages.’125

120 Dunne, John: ‘Treat in Store’, Books Ireland. February 1998. No 210. p. 23.

121 Kelly, S. ‘The Moral Complexity of the Life in the North’. Books Ireland. Summer 2000. No 232. p.166.



124 For more details see: Dunne, John: ‘Treat in Store’, Books Ireland. February 1998. No 210. p. 23. p.23.

125 Dunne, John: ‘Treat in Store’, Books Ireland. February 1998. No 210. p.23.

55

Everything in this Country Must

In the year 2000 he published a volume of short fictions called Everything in this

Country Must, in which he returns to Ireland. It consists of two short stories and a

novella, all dealing with the Northern Troubles. This book was accepted more then enthusiastically by both the ordinary readers and the critics.

In the Big Issue, they wrote: ‘Mc Cann once again shows why he is one of the best

writers in the world...Deeply moving and powerfully written, these are likely to become

classics.’126 A respected Irish fiction writer Edna O’Brien labelled the stories ‘powerful -

gritty, memorable, and ambitious’127

In the title story, four young soldiers help a farmer and his daughter free their horse from a stream in a flood, unable to understand that their help will never be anything but

an insult. The story is moving and extremely sad reading; as Katie, its protagonist, says at the end, ‘what a small sky for so much rain.’128

In the second story, Wood, a ten-year-old boy helps his mother to make poles for

marching season, against his crippled father’s wishes. This story is a reminder how even

the simplest things can cause friction in the changed atmosphere of a sectarian politics. McCann says: ‘I once heart someone in the North say ‘Even a piece of wood has politics’. It was a snatched piece of conversation that played and replayed itself in my

imagination for years. What could it mean? In the end, it meant for me that everything literary everything – in the North has a political implication. I wanted to try to turn

some of the traditional elements on their head – the father is a quiet peaceful man rather

than some sort of mad Orangeman; the mother is a rural woman discovering herself; the boy is the confusion between them...’129

126 McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). Critical acclaim. London: Phoenix House.

127 McCann, C. (2000). Everything in this Country Must (2nd ed.). Critical acclaim. London: Phoenix House. 128 129

McCann, C. (2000). Everything in this Country Must (2nd ed.). London: Phoenix House. p.15.

Kelly, S. ‘The Moral Complexity of the Life in the North’. Books Ireland. Summer 2000. No 232.p.166.

56

In the novella Hunger Strike, set during the 1981 hunger strike, a young boy and his

mother flee to Galway as the boy’s uncle goes on a hunger strike in Derry Gaol. By

returning to her homeplace, the mother hopes to save her son from the tribalism of the

North. It is revealed as an impossible dream, though. The boy follows his uncle’s decline in the papers and imagines himself shooting British soldiers. While going

through this story, we realize that although the boy can be taken out of Belfast Belfast cannot be taken out of the boy which is the big tragedy of the Troubles.

Each story is told from a child’s perspective, a device which, McCann130 notes, he came

upon by accident. In each case, a child is either a narrator or the central consciousness through which we see the world.

Desnond Trayner asserts that ‘McCann employed a device of naive narrator to a good effect...The disparity between the narrative voice’s personal experience and recounting of events, and the wider social implications of which it remains mostly unaware, provides a faithful source of interplay, and packs a powerful emotional punch for the reader.’131

Concerning the language, McCann naturally adjusted it to the young narrators therefore

it is, as James Eve says, ‘light and translucent and seeming-simple.’132

In our opinion all the stories are highly accomplished. Nevertheless, there are some critics, who point out to negative features of the novella; Jocelyn Clarke, for instance, makes it clear that ‘although the emotional and psychological core lies in the boy’s

relationship with his mother and the old man, McCann’s self-conscious and over

wrought metaphors and images continually distract from them, undermining the boy’s

characterization. The novella lacks the cohesive narrative structure and rigorous style of

130 http://www.thei.aust.com/sydney/interviews/mccannint.html 131

132

Trayner, D. ‘Naivety’. Books Ireland. Summer 2000. No 232. p.173.

Eve, J. ‘No Way Out in Ireland’. London Times. Times 2. June 7th 2000, p 18.

57

the stories, while the boy speaks and acts as an over elaborated cipher rather than a fully integrated character.’133

The Dancer

McCann’s last book to be published so far was is the novel Dancer (2003), which again gained himself a great critical acclaim.

Nevertheless, many of McCann’s readers were surprised by the theme. Although he had

already published the novel This Side of Brightness, which was far more ‘international’

than his other works, McCann was ‘still widely applauded for finely celebrated fiction

about Ireland, Irish immigrants and the emotional spaces between’134 and therefore very unlikely to write a novel about a Russian ballet dancer’s life.

McCann himself adds to this: After my last book [Everything In This Country Must], which was on a small intimate scale, about the glancing blows children get from politics, I was looking for a big, international canvas that crossed cultures and politics and experience. The Nureyev story did it.’135

The Dancer is a story of an immensely gifted ballet star Rudolf Nureyev who was ‘one

of the most written-about dancers in a history. From the moment of his pivotal defection froom Russia , this beautiful man, this obsessive performer...became both, monster and

darling of the western media...He was dogged by the paparazzi and obsessed over by critics and gossip columnists...His refusal to give up peddling the ruins of his technique

aroused fierce controversy, as did his death from AIDS, an illness he had kept secret from the outside world.’136

133 Clarke, J. ‘They shoot horses, don’t they?’. The Sunday Tribune. Art Life section. May 14th.2000. p.9.

134 McGee, C. ‘An Irish Novelist takes a Big Leap’ NY Daily News [online]. cit. November 27th 2005..


136 Mackrell, J. ‘Being Rudolf Nureyev’, Guardian Unlimited [online]. cit. December 2nd 2005.

58

McCann’s ‘novel adds no new facts to the Nureyev legends, it is a semi-fictional

imagining of the dancer’s life sheds an intense an intense if oblique light on the man.’137 The difference between fiction and nonfiction is, McCann claims, ‘how we tell our

stories. It is like going into a room, and all the historians and critics have swept it clean. They’ve done a great job but what happens in the little pile of dirt in the corner?’138

McCann says he doubts the word ‘fiction’: ‘I am not sure it [the word fiction] is the best way to describe what we do. I think the best way is that we‘re storytellers. Whether it’s a fiction or nonfiction, you’re telling a story’139

‘McCann’s aim is not to discount the glamorous nature of his subject but to construct it

through the eyes and voices of those whose lives were burnt or illuminated as he scorched his way towards fame. Some of his characters are real, some fictional...’140

In other words, in The Dancer, McCann views its subject through the prisms of many

lenses.’141 We see Rudi from the biased viewpoints of the novel’s other characters which

makes him a really round character.

McCann intended to write an international novel which he succeeded in, nevertheless, even in the Dancer he still returns to his general themes, discussed above.

The main character Rudi Nureyev can actually be viewed as another underdog, who

does not fit smoothly into society, a social outsider in a way. Although being a gifted

137 Mackrell, J. ‘Being Rudolf Nureyev’, Guardian Unlimited [online]. cit. December 2nd 2005.

138 McGee, C. ‘An Irish Novelist takes a Big Leap’ NY Daily News [online]. cit. November 27th 2005.. 139 Curled up with a good book [online]. cit. December 21st 2005.

140 Mackrell, J. ‘Being Rudolf Nureyev’, Guardian Unlimited [online]. cit. December 2nd 2005. 141 Curled up with a good book [online]. cit. December 21st 2005.

59

performer this gay dancer was also a ‘compulsive egomaniac’,142 who in the end dies of AIDS, an illness which draws you to the social periphery, no matter if you are famous

or not. Dieing of AIDS and alone is the motif McCann has not used for the first time. In

Breakfast for Enrique, as stated above, it is one of the main motives.

In McCann’s early short story Breakfast for Enrique, we are confronted with a character dying of AIDS and being drawn at social periphery as well.

Then, like in many other of his fictions (at random: Hunger Strike, Sisters, Along the Riverwall, This Side of Brightness) McCann deals with the parents’ – children’s relationship as well. Nureyev was an ethnic Tatar who ‘came from humble beginnings

in the Russian Republic of Bashkiria...His father wanted ‘more’ from his son, the distance between the father and the son is never more on display than on a fishing trip –

Dad enjoys the violence in skinning and piercing the fish. Son would rather have none of it – he prefers the self-imposed violence of dance.’143

For this novel, likewise for This Side of Brightness, McCann prepared thoroughly. ‘He

spent six months of research in the New York Public Library to reconstruct winter warfare in Russia in the end of World War II...’ However, as McGee points out to, ‘he did not interview anybody who had known Nureyev.’144

McCann makes it clear that what attracts him to Nureyev is his approach to dancing. According to the Dancer, Nureyev talent impelled him, to always seek perfection in

dance and McCann says he tries the same in writing: ‘Perfection for me lies in sound

142 Curled up with a good book [online]. cit. December 21st 2005.

143 Curled up with a good book [online]. cit. December 21st 2005.


60

and language as we choose the words to bump up against each other and tell us our dreams and nightmares.’145

3. TRANSLATIONS Problematic areas of translation

As noted above, McCann’s writing is highly poetical and imaginative which permeates all its levels and, presumably, it complicates the translator’s work. In this section, we will proceed from the lowest levels of the text to the higher ones and discuss individual

problems one encounters at each level when translating McCann’s fiction. We will also

attempt to theoretically support and justify the decisions we made concerning

complicated passages of the text. Both the translations will be analysed together as the texts are (in terms of language repertoire and stylistic means) very alike therefore it is

convenient to discuss them together supplying concrete examples from both the texts. The two stories represent typical author’s approach to two different things through the same form and so there is no need for employing two different stylistic approaches.

Speaking of the lexical level, probably the biggest problem lied in searching for the most appropriate Czech dialect, which would correspond the Irish English used in dialogues in Along the Riverwall, in particular. However, the Irish English is a language

variety whereas there are no varieties of Czech but only dialects and so, logically, there

is no language variety in Czech, equal to Irish English. Therefore we decided to interpret Irish English as an independent language form and, in this regard, the marked language elements used in Along the Riverwall (Wha ya doin’, Ferg? Da’ll cream ya. Ya’ve no fucking right to do that.) can be actually regarded as the specific Dublin

dialect, it means as one of the dominant Irish English forms. The most appropriate Czech dialect to reflect on that, therefore is the Prague dialect.


61

Apart from that, McCann’s fiction’s translator is likely to have problems with poetic

passages, which are full of figurative language. Some of McCann’s metaphors are very original thus difficult to translate as the words, which they consist of, have different connotative meaning in English and in Czech. Additionally, McCann sometimes combines words very unexpectedly and if we translated them literally, it would seem

odd. In these cases, we tried to look for a Czech equivalent which would have similar meaning but which did not necessarily have to consist of the same words. ‘...he smeared his jeans with a necklace of oil...’(Along the Riverwall)146 ‘...zamastilo jeho staré džíny kroužky od oleje...‘

‘...I notice a little necklace of blood spots on the pillow...’(Brakfast for Enrique)147 ‚...zahlédnu krvavé prstýnky na polštáři...‘

Another problematic area was translating vulgarisms such as fucken. As fuck and its

variants is the most frequent swear word in English and Czech simply has different repertoire of currently used swear words (for the same purpose it uses words with

different meanings), we decided to apply Czech words with different denotative meaning but appearing in similar contexts and functioning similarly:

‘How d’ya think I feel, I’marvellous, just fucken marvellous.’ (Along the Riverwall)148

‘Jak si do prdele myslíte, že se asi cejtim. Je mi skvěle, fakt skvěle.‘

Next, we had to solve the problem of technical words which concerns mainly the story Along the Riverwall. Descriptions of Fergus’s building up the new bike include a few

multi-word terms, whose Czech equivalents are too complicated. For instance, thin little Phillips head screwdriver sounds a bit clumsy in Czech: malý úzký Philllips šroubovák

s hlavou. Nevertheless, the author deliberately made this passage a very detailed

realistic description where every detail contributes to the overall impression and we

146 147 148


McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House.p.24.


62

wanted to avoid losing this feature of the text in the translation therefore we rather accepted a little clumsiness.

Nevertheless, translating the technical terms generally caused many troubles to us as it is more demanding in terms of understanding and imagining the situation.

Another category to be discussed are proper names of streets, restaurants, city parts, generally speaking concrete places’ designations. Again it concerns mainly the story Along the Riverwall, one of which most accomplished feature is that it perfectly

evocates the place. Therefore, names of places necessarily must remain decipherable for

Czech readers. If the reader knows Dublin, he has to be able to identify the places mentioned in the story, otherwise it will lose most of its beauty.

McCann mentions the bar Stag’s Head, for example, which could be quite easily

translated into Czech but if we do so, would anybody who knows Dublin recall the

particular bar in Temple Bar area? Would it be meaningful to talk about Karlova ulice instead of Georges Street? For this reason, we left the majority of names of places in

English to make it possible for the reader to identify them. We translated only the proper names, not referring to well-known places, whose Czech translation conveys some meaning (literal or aesthetic):

‘His younger brothers drew pictures of favourite places, Burdock’s Chipper, the alleyeway down by the Coombe, the front of the Stag’sHead...’ (Allong the Riverwal)149

‚Mladší bratři kreslili obrázky oblíbených míst, restaurace Burdocks Chipper, pěšina v parku poblíž čtvrti Coombe, vchod do baru Stag’s Head...‘

‘...occasionally the nurses brought him down to a Baker’s Corner for a sweet and furtive pint...’ (Allong the Riverwal)150

‘...sestřičky ho občas braly dolů na Pekařův Růžek na jedno tajné sladké pivo...‘

At syntactic level, the biggest problem was to keep the long sentences, which are

characteristic of McCann’s style and belong among the most distinctive features of it.

149 150



63

English language frequently uses nominal structures functioning as sentence

condensers, which make it possible to create long and clearly organised sentences whereas Czech tends to favour verbal structures instead and is not suitable for long

sentences based on nominal structures. As a result of that, it was necessary to transform many nominal structures into verbal patterns and also to divide some of the complex sentences.

Speaking of the semantic level, there is one point that has to be made. In Allong the Riverwall, McCann mentions a joke which is well known in English speaking countries

and so he can afford to use only part of it as a hint referring to the joke. However, the

Czech translation is aimed at people with different cultural background, therefore it was necessary to slightly adjust the joke in order to make it clear to the Czech reader.

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4. CONCLUSIONS

This work is a synthesis of literary and translation analysis as it introduces Colum

McCann in the context of modern Irish fiction and in order to be more concrete we included two translations of his short stories. The two stories were chosen with a regard

to the fact that they should be suitable for exemplifying and supporting notions

presented in the theoretical part of the work in terms of both McCann’s fiction and new Irish fiction in general.

In order to present everything in the logical continuity we added some information on today’s Ireland because only then can readers fully understand the impulses of new Irish

fiction. The first part of the work is therefore aimed at getting the readers familiar with these days Ireland and with the changes it has gone through recently.

We briefly outlined the development of Irish fiction throughout the twentieth century to be able to proceed to the more detailed analysis of new Irish fiction, again with the

stress put on McCann as he is one of the most significant authors of this generation. It has been explained in what the new prose differs from that of the eighties and seventies; it is not particularly innovative concerning the form but it introduces new or newly

approached themes to Irish fiction. It has been suggested that it is a natural development as Ireland has changed a lot and literature just reflects on these new circumstances.

The theme focus has shifted to a more personal level. McCann, for instance, depicts

existential absurdity of human life, leaving behind the attempts to solve Ireland’s

problems. In this regard, the new Irish fiction is less Ireland-bound, with a chance to appeal readers abroad as the message it conveys is more universal in its application.

However, it does not mean that the writers would drop traditional Irish themes; they just view them from the new perspective and add more up-to-date themes. McCann and the thematic construction of his fictions is a perfect example illustrating this notion.

The diploma thesis includes the chapter aimed at McCann’s life for an artist’s life always influences to a great deal their work, therefore it must be given space in the analysis of their work..

A lot of room is dedicated to clarifying the specific position of the short story in Irish literature and presenting possible reasons for its extraordinary popularity in Ireland. The

diploma thesis also attempts to provide the reader with opinions of experts on Irish 65

literature, whose majority suggest that short story is not of bigger importance than novel in Ireland.

Last but not least, it was necessary to theoretically support the two translations included in this work. McCann’s fiction will never translate easily for many reasons; it is, for

instance, its imaginativeness, the language employed and its inexplicitness. This work points out to problems one may come across when translating imaginative prose and suggest possible solutions to concrete problems of translating. Apart from that, being aware of the presence of arguable elements in the Czech translation, we focussed on clarifying them.

The main goal of the work, definitely, was to provide a kind of introduction to contemporary Irish literature and to show that it is worth paying attention to this small European literature even now when days of James Joyce are gone.

66

5. CZECH SUMMARY Tato

diplomová

práce

se

zabývá

dílem

Columa

McCanna

jako

jednoho

z nejvýraznějších irských prozaiků devadesátých let. V rozboru dvou jeho povídek

poukazuje na charakteristické rysy jeho tvorby, která je svým způsobem typickým příkladem moderní irské prózy.

V první části se tato práce zaměřuje na vykreslení kulturní, společenské a politické

situace Irska na konci dvacátého století a osvětluje vliv těchto faktorů na mladé irské

autory, kteří ve své tvorbě samozřejmě reflektují především současnost Následně tato práce stručně nastiňuje vývoj irské prózy od modernismu po současnost se zvláštním

důrazem na povídku coby tradiční irský žánr. Dále specifikuje netradiční postavení tohoto žánru v rámci irské literatury obecně a odhaluje impulsy podmiňující popularitu tohoto žánru.

Druhá část je věnována Columu McCannovi, faktorům majícím vliv na jeho tvorbu,

tedy jeho životu, událostem spoluformujícím jeho životní názor a umělecká východiska,

a autorům, jimiž byl ovlivněn. Zároveň autora zařazuje do kontextu současné irské prózy a upozorňuje na styčné body s dalšími autory, stejně tak, jako poukazuje na rysy,

kterými se od ostatních naopak odlišuje. Posléze obecně rozebírá jeho autorský styl, tematickou složku jeho próz a stručně přibližuje jednotlivá jeho díla, opět se zvláštním zřetelem na žánr povídky.

Další část diplomové práce je zaměřena na interpretaci dvou McCannových krátkých

próz – konkrétně povídek Along the Riverwall (Na nábřeží) a Breakfast for Enrique

(Snídaně pro Enriqua) - na nichž konkretizuje rysy rozebrané v části zaměřené na jeho styl obecně.

Jelikož tato práce zahrnuje překlady zmiňovaných dvou povídek, obsahuje i kapitolu

věnující se teoretické stránce překladu, kde na konkrétních příkladech poukazuje na problémy, se kterými se můžeme setkat při překladu imaginativní prózy, a navrhuje možná řešení.

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6. ENGLISH SUMMARY

This diploma thesis deals with the fiction of Colum McCann, one of the most significant

Irish prose writers of the 1990s. In the analysis of his two short stories it points out to characteristic features of his writing, which is in a way a typical example of modern Irish fiction.

The first part of this work is focussed on depicting cultural, social and political

condition of Ireland at the end of the twentieth century and makes clear its the influence

on young Irish authors, whose writing, of course, reflects on the present. Subsequently,

it provides an overview of the development of Irish prose from modernism to the present with a special focus on the traditional Irish genre, the short story. Next, it

defines the unique position of this genre in the context of Irish literature in general and clarifies the impulses determining the popularity of the genre.

The second part is dedicated to Colum McCann, factors influencing his writing; his life,

events forming his worldview and artistic opinions, and writers who have influenced

him. It also defines the author’s place in the context of contemporary Irish fiction and emphasises what he has in common with other writers as well as what he differs in. The

diploma thesis also studies the author’s style in general, thematic construction of his

fiction and briefly analyzes his individual works, again with a focus on the genre of short story.

One section of the diploma thesis presents the interpretation of McCann’s two short stories, namely Along the Riverwall and Breakfast for Enrique, at which it demonstrates the features discussed in the section focussed on his style in general.

As the diploma thesis includes the translations of the two short stories mentioned above,

it contains the section dealing with translation in terms of the theoretical background as well. Giving concrete examples, it points out to problems one might encounter when translating imaginative fiction and suggest possible solutions to it.

68

BIBLIOGRAPHY Bolger, D. (2000). The New Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction. London: MacMillan Publishers.

Bolger, D. (1993). The Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction. London: MacMillan Publishers.

Bolger, D. Carty, C. (1995). The Henessy Book of Irish Fiction. Dublin: New Island Books.

Daly, J., Somer, J. (2001). The Scribner Book of Irish Writing. London: Scribner. Doyle, R. (1992). The Barrytown Trilogy (2nd ed.). London: Minerva. McGahern, J. (1984). Leavetaking, London: Phoenix House. p. 3.

Kiely, B. (2001) The Collected Stories of Benedict Kiely. London: Methuen Publishing

Ltd.

Levý, J. (1998). Umění překladu (3rd ed). Praha: Ivo Železný s.r.o.

Mahony, C.H. (1998). Contemporary Irish Literature: Transforming Tradition. New

York: St. Martin’s Press.

McCann, C. (1995). Fishing the Sloe Black River (5th ed.). London: Phoenix House. McCann, C. (1996). Songdogs (3rd ed.).London: Phoenix House.

McCann, C. (2000). Everything in this Country Must (2nd ed.). London: Phoenix House.

McMahon, S. (1998). The Mercier Comapanion to Irish Literature. Cork: Mercier.

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Pilný, O. (2004). Faráři a fanatici. Praha: Fraktály.

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Publishing Company.

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Bolger, D. ‘Exciting and Vibrant New Irish Voice’. Sunday Tribune, May 22nd 1994.

p.B8.

Carty, C. (1995) ‘Songdogs’ (the review). The Sunday Tribune Magazine, June 11th 1995, p.19.

Carty, C. ‘Songdogs’. The Sunday Tribune Magazine, June 11th 1995, p.19.

Clarke, J. ‘They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?’. The Sunday Tribune Magazine. Art Life Section. May 14th 2000. p. 9.

Conelly, T. ‘Keltic Tales of Our Days’. London Times. May 23rd 1994 31e.

Connelly, T. ‘Only Just Irish’. Irish Independent. Weekender Supplement. June 4th 1994. p.11.

Dunne, J. ‘Fishing the Sloe-Black River’. Books Ireland. September 1994. No 179.

p.201.

Dunne, J. ‘Songdogs’. Books Ireland. October 1995. No 189. p.244.

Dunne, John: ‘Treat in Store’, Books Ireland. February 1998. No 210. p.23.

Eve, J. ‘No Way Out in Ireland’. London Times. Times 2. June 7th 2000, p 18.

Kelly, S. ‘The Moral Complexity of the Life in the North’. Books Ireland. Summer

2000. No 232.p.166.

Kelly, S. ‘The Voice of the Exile’. Books Ireland, Summer 1994, No 178, p.154.

Loghue, A. ’Tickets to the End of the Night’ Sunday Independent, May 8th 1994, 8L. Morrissy, M. ‘The Ills of Ireland home and away’. Irish Times. May 31st 1994. p.14.

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Wikipedia, Free Encyklopedia. [online] cit. December 15th 2005.

Margetts, J. ‘Interview with Colum McCann.‘ [online] cit. December 1st 2005.

Gee, C. ‘An Irish Novelist takes a Big Leap’. NY Daily News [online]. cit. November 27th 2005.

Mackrell, J. ‘Being Rudolf Nureyev’, Guardian Unlimited [online]. cit. December 2nd 2005. http://guardian.co.uk./arts/critic/ feature/ 01169,874689,00.html Curled up with a good book [online]. cit. December 21st 2005. http://www.curledup.com/dancer.html

[online] cit. January 15th 2006.
sloeBlack_2.html>

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APPENDIX I Na nábřeží

Fergus pohání svůj vozík k řece a pozoruje, jak se Liffey valí kolem, nasáklá večerním deštěm,

obtěžkaná večerní oblohou a neóny,

a vydává se vstříc Dublinskému zálivu. Vzpomene

si, jak jeho otec jednou do řeky vyhodil lednici a napadne ho, jaké další věci tam dole

asi leží. Zrnka zlatého nátěru z nákladních lodí Guiness. Zčernalé nábojnice z britských

dělových člunů. Kondomy a jehly. Staré zašlé rychlovarné konvice. Drobné a kočárky. Učebnice historie, harmoniky, nehty a košíky plné mrtvých květin. Miliarda

cigaretových nedopalků a uzávěrů od lahví. Ručníky a roury od kamen, mince a píšťalky, podkovy a fotbalové míče. A bezpochyby mnoho starých bicyklů. Tam dole se

jejich kola pomalu boří do bláta, řídítka závodí s řasami, převodová lanka přirezla k rámům a drobné rybky se ochomýtají kolem pedálů.

Urovná si dlouhý černý kabát, jenž ledabyle splývá kolem jeho nohou, a bratrovou fotbalovou šálou Shamrock Rovers151 si utře pot z čela. Půl míle, vybavuje si, z jeho domu ve čtvrti Liberties, a to kolo bicyklu, které vláčel na klíně, působilo všemožné

problémy - spadlo na zem, když se snažil opatrně zavřít vchodové dveře, zamastilo jeho

staré džíny kroužky od oleje, když zápolil se sjezdem u katedrály Christchurch, a odkutálelo se, když se na nábřeží pokoušel dostat přes obrubník.

Liffey naviguje zimní vítr podél doširoka rozkročených břehů. Fergus zabrzdí vozík, plivne do řeky nálož hlenu, jenž se tam zachytí a roztočí. Přemýšlí, jaký oblouk asi ve vzduchu opíše kolo od bicyklu.

Lednice, to už je let, se do vody zřítila vzhůru nohama, Fergusův otec, muž s ošlehanou

tváří a kapsami vždy napěchovanými lahvemi, ji celou cestu dolů k řece odvláčel sám. Neměl na splátky a nevyrovnal se s tím že by ji měl vrátit agentovi. „Ten vyděrač si

může dojít zaplavat, jestli chce svojí Frigidaire.“ Stloukl dohromady pár prkýnek

z kůlny na dřevo, dospodu přišrouboval kolečka z bruslí, naložil ledničku a odrachotil

s ní k nábřeží. Fergus s bratry se mu přilepili na paty. Pár opilců, kteří vykukovali z

151 Shamrock Rovers je název irského fotbalového teamu.

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hospod, nabídlo pomoc, ale Fergusův otec vždy jen rozhodil rukama. „Jeden jako druhej ‘ste sice pořádný chlapi,“ zaburácel, pak zastavil a zapálil si cigaretu, „ale sotva se držíte na nohách, sakra, takže to rači zvládnu sám.“

Za cinkotu láhví doklopýtal k řece, a když obrovská bílá lednice po několika přemetech dopadla s ohromným cáknutím do vody, stál tam a smál se.

Těch krámů, ke kterým se přidala. Láhve od cideru152. Knoflíky. Boty na vysokých podpatcích. Jedny moc staré berle. Chvíli se třese zimou a rukama si prohrábne kudrnaté vlasy. Nebo možná i polohovací postel obklopená infuzemi, pytlíky na chcanky, gumovými rukavicemi, lahvemi od

energetických nápojů, asi deseti

terapeutickými stolky, sestřinou tužkou s ožvýkanými konci. Fergus chytne kolo za

střed a roztáčí ho, upřeně se skrze něj dívá a naslouchá rytmickému cvakání volnoběžky, zatímco řeka a nábřeží jako by rozpadaly na jednotlivé výřezy, pak do řeky vypálí další salvu hlenu.

Pochroumaný nákladním autem rozvážejícím pečivo. Lansdowne Road poblíž místa, kde Dodder zmáhá nízká skaliska. Plné náruče zimního slunka dopadají na zem,

zatímco se po doručení zásilky vrací zpět, přes most u fotbalového stadiónu, přemítá o Que Seras153, Molly Maloneové154 a Ronniem Whelanovi155, jak to z velkého vápna pálí přímo do šibenice. Ozval se ale jen jekot pneumatik, ten blbeček za volantem nákladního auta plného pečiva dostal infarkt a našli ho se šlehačkou z kremrole vpředu

na bílé košili a s rozepnutým horním knoflíkem, hnědé drobky roztroušené kolem něho po podlaze, ležel vpředu na klaksonu, který zněl jako nářek kolihy, jen až příliš monotónně, a krev na předním skle připomínala peří.

Ferguse to odhodilo do vzduchu jak okoralou kůrku chleba a probral se v rehabilitačním

centru Panny Marie Lourdské, obklopen doktory jako svatozáří. Zlomená klíční kost, třicet stehů na čele, polámaná žebra a třetí obratel bederní páteře rozdrcený na padrť.

152 Cider je v Irsku velice oblíbený alkoholický nápoj, vyráběný z jablek. 153 Que Seras je název písně oblíbené v Británii i Irsku.

154 Moly Malouneová je irská lidová hrdinka, prodavačka ryb. 155 Ronnie Whelan je známý irský fotbalista

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Dali ho na pokoj plný ragbyových hráčů a poraněných motorkářů. Když mu natočili

postel, viděl ven z okna na vlnící se stromy obřadně se uklánějící cestě pod nimi. Týdny

tekly jak měsíce. Muž z Cavanu ležící vedle něho měl párek jizev, které, když podržel zápěstí u sebe, vypadaly jak železniční koleje.

Z druhého konce pokoje se ozýval vytrvalý nářek. Chlapec s mrkvově červenými vlasy

pocházející ze Sliga si tetoval trikolóru na stehno a jehlu natvrdo vrážel do svalu, který beztak nic necítil. Měsíce bezstarostně vířily jeden za druhým.

„Jak si do prdele myslíte, že se asi cejtim. Je mi skvěle, fakt skvěle.“ Fergus křičel na

sestru jednou odpoledne, když vše začínalo být zřejmé – už nikdy se nepřilepí za

autobus číslo 45, aby tak zmenšil odpor vzduchu a letěl v dešti dolů po Pearse Street, už nebudou sprinty podél pivovaru a ohánění se po psech pumpičkou na kolo nebo

provokování taxikářů a ježdění v protisměru, žádné další vtipy o ženách sedících na

jiných věcech než na rámu – Ten rám je ňákej tvrdej. To nesedíš na rámu miláčku, jenom tě moc rád vidim - a ani hádky s řidiči náklaďáků na nábřeží nebo prostě jen svezení se po ulici Thomas Street pro láhev mléka.

Kolo se zabydlelo v kůlně na uhlí, trofej ubohosti, kterou otec vyzvedl v den nehody.

Koupil mu ho před pěti roky, přesvědčen, že Fergus byl tak dobrý, že mohl závodit. Po každé výplatě roloval postradatelné bankovky a pěchoval je do láhve od Pernodu. Domů

kolo dovedl jednou v sobotu večer, tlačil ho opatrně z obchodu na ulici Georges Street. Byl to červený italský model kompletně ostrojený díly Campagnolo. Chlapci ve čtvrti

jen zahvízdali, když ho viděli. Na O’Connelově mostě ho jednou čtyři mladíci

v bombrech zkusili z kola shodit a ukrást mu ho, ale on jednoho z nich uhodil kryptonitovým zámkem do brady. V kurýrní službě byl znám tím, jak uměl po lososím

způsobu plout proti proudu a proplétat se provozem v opačném směru jednosměrky.

Svůj první závod ve Wiclowských horách dva měsíce před nehodou dojel na druhém místě. Kůže na sedle se akorát začala tvarovat podle jeho těla. Naučil se, jak docela snadno prolétnout dopravní zácpy u Christchurch.

Po nehodě byl stroj jen hromadou železa. Když ale otec přišel do nemocnice, vždy se vztyčil nad postelí: „Dřív než se rozkoukáš, Fergusi, budeš zas sedět na kole a do prdele se všema závistivcema.“ Fergus tam ležel a přikyvoval.

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Matka zůstávala nahoře ve své ložnici a klečela nad červenými lampičkami a svatými

obrázky. Dopisy byly odeslány do Knocku156 i Lourdes157. Mladší bratři kreslili obrázky

oblíbených míst, restaurace Burdocks Chipper158, pěšina v parku poblíž čtvrti Coombe, vchod do baru Stag’s Head159 a nové graffitti na zdech školního dvora. Fergusovi kamaradi z kurýrní služby sedali u nemocniční postele a někdy pak společně pospíchali pryč,

vysílačky jim chrčely, tak jeď už ty kokote, zatraceně, hoď sebou. Bývalé

přítelkyně psaly krátké básničky, jež našly v časopisech a sestřičky ho občas braly dolů na Pekařův Růžek na jedno tajné sladké pivo. Jakmile měl ale sklopenou postel, byly

tam pořád ty samé stromy dělající pukrlata. Chlapec s trikolórou se ze špendlíků zbláznil, všude si tetoval modré flíčky a trefoval se do vlastního oka jehlou. Muž z

Cavanu si hladil zápěstí. Cyklista z Waterfordu křičel, že po někom zbyly chlupy ve

francouzském časopise, který koloval pokojem. Na Fergusově nočním stolku plesnivěly pomeranče. Terapeutická místnost byla plná jasných barev a usmívajících se sester, ale

v noci, zpět na pokoji, to hluboké a vzdálené sténání neustupovalo – stalo se součástí okolí, hukot a bzukot, polknutý hluk, bez kterého už nedokážete usnout. A měsíce vířily dál.

Když přišel z nemocnice, otec ho dotlačil ven ke kůlně na uhlí. Byl pátek a v domě se

vařily ryby. Vůně se vinula kolem. Lehce mrholilo a holubi se sháněli po jídle na

střechách okolních domů. Otec pomalu odemkl zámek kůlny. Na Ferguse tam vedle bicyklu čekalo půltuctu hnědých krabic. Byly objednány na dobírku a odeslány z Anglie. Fergus je pomalu otevíral. „Doktoři nepoznaj prdel od lokte, synu, neotálej a pusť se do toho.“ Fergus se na krabice dlouze zadíval. „A že mě, kurva, stály majlant,“

řekl otec a se spokojeným úsměvem na tváři zamířil ven ze dveří a do pivnice, kabát mu

na ramenou málem praskal ve švech. Fergus tam seděl a pohrával si s přehazovačkou, zatímco vůně připravovaného jídla se vznášela všude kolem.

156 Knock je posvátné městečko, jelikož v tamním kostele údajně došlo v roce 1879 ke zjevení Panny Marie, sv. Josefa a sv. Jana.

157 Notre-Dame de Lourdes ve francouzských Pyrenejích je poutním místem křesťanů. 158 Irský řetězec tzv. fast-food restaurací.

159 Stag’s Head patří k nejznámějších dublinským barům a nachází se ve čtvrti kultury a zábavy, Temple Baru.

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Povytáhne si šálu nahoru ke krku a podívá se na hodinky – jsou už tři hodiny ráno – a poté na chvilku opře hlavu o opěradlo vozíku, aby se mohl podívat na oblohu. Některé hvězdy se dají zahlédnout dokonce i přes mraky a smog. Před deseti lety, to mu bylo

sedm, ho chytili, když před kostelem Sv. Patrika zkoušel ukrást auto a otec ho po pořádném výprasku vzal na procházku k té samé řece a ukazoval na oblohu. „Podívej na ty hvězdy,“ pověděl mu, „dovol abych ti něco řek‘.“ Historka byla o tom, jak na

hvězdách je peklo a jak všichni vrazi přijdou na jednu hvězdu, kde kromě nich nebude nikdo jiný, koho by mohli zabít. Všichni zkorumpovaní politici půjdou tam, kde nebude

žádná vláda, všichni, kdo zneužívali děti se dostanou tam, kde nebudou žádné děti, které by mohli zneužít. Všichni zloději aut půjdou na hvězdu, na které nenajdou žádná auta a

jestli tohle pro něj není dostatečně odstrašující, dostane další výprask. Fergus si rukou tře hruď a napadne ho, jestli existuje také hvězda plná vybavení na bicykl.

Náhradní díly stály otce velkou část dvoutýdenní výplaty. Dokonce si našel druhou práci jako noční hlídač u bezpečnostní agentury ve čtvrti Tallaght. Když přišel v noci domů, z jeho kapes už se neozýval cinkot, najednou v nich rachotilo spíše přetrvávající

a pohrdavé pokašlávání, jasná naděje, vyčítavý nátlak, nutící Ferguse sednout znovu na

kolo.

A venku v kůlně, na svém vozíku se Fergus celé dva měsíce potil nad bicyklem. Dotáhl matky výpletu na pravé straně kola aby ho vycentroval doleva, povolil závlačku a lil

dokud z pedálů nekapalo mazivo. Držákem přidržel brzdy na místě a usadil nové přední vidlice. K nastavení převodů použil malý úzký Phillips šroubovák s hlavou. Řídítka

omotal novou páskou, zatočil roztřepené konce lanek, koupil nové nálepky. Bratři ho sledovali a pomáhali mu. Otec přicházel každý večer do kůlny, poplácal sedlo kola a řekl: „Tak teď už jenom pár tejdnů, synu.“

Nabídl kolo bratrům, ale oni dobře věděli: Byla to vykopávka, i Fergus to věděl, jež by znovu jezdila jedině za pomoci pořádné dávky představivosti.

První na řadě byla řídítka - ta dolů dopadla s malým cáknutím. Následující noc došlo na

pedály, pedálové kliky, přední tác a kuličková ložiska. Byla zrovna sobota, když se na

nábřeží vydal, aby přes palubu hodil brzdy, brzdová lanka, sedlo, sedlovou tyč a

přehazovačku. Dole na molu byla skupinka opilců, kteří čichali lepidlo, a tak seděl ve

vchodu na Městský úřad a čekal, až zmizí.

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Neděle představovala největší dřinu – pokusy zvládnout rám mu zabraly tři hodiny a už

ho skoro nechal vedle kostela, když u něj přibrzdil taxikář, a s pohupující se cigaretou v puse se zeptal, cože to ksakru vyvádí. „Beru to kolo k řece trochu si zaplavat,“ řekl

Fergus a taxikář jen kývl hlavou a poté se nabídl, že ho vezme do kufru a dolů k řece ho pro něj doveze. Držel rám na zídce. “Ještěže to není žádná proklatá Ganga,“ řekl taxikář a odjel. Fergus, netušil, co měl taxikář na mysli, překulil rám přes zídku a vydal se domů, aniž by alespoň počkal, až vlnky zčeří hladinu.

Včera v noci, když se vydal zbavit předního kola, se dveře kůlny doširoka rozletěly, což

vzbudilo Fergusova bratra Padraica. Padraic sešel dolů ve svém dresu Arsenálu: „Co to děláš Fergu?“ „Hleď si svýho.“ „Kde je zbytek kola?“ Fergus nic neříkal. „To ti táta nedaruje,“ řekl bratr. Později, když Fergus manévroval dolů po ulici, uviděl jak Padraic

odhrnul závěsy a sledoval ho. Když se vrátil domů, Padraic na něho čekal na schodech

jejich domu. „Ty vole, ty nemáš žádný právo todle dělat,“ řekl Padraic. „Táta za to utratil všechny svoje peníze.“

Fergus projel kolem bratra do domu: „Zjistí to dost brzo.“

Dole na nábřeží je ještě všechno tiché. Výfukové plyny několika nákladních aut vytváří ve

vzduchu

podivné

obrazce

a

ty

jsou

někdy

v půli

letu

zachyceny

zábleskem/proužkem neonu z obchodu nebo značky. Na druhé straně řeky se prochází dvojice chodců zachumlaných do kapuc.

Fergus se nakloní se dopředu, chytne kolo za výplet a s námahou ho zvedne nahoru ke hrudi. Zahlédne maličko oleje a špíny na třetím zubu kolečka zadní přehazovačky a

přejede po něm prstem. Otře olej o džíny a sleduje šmouhu rýsující se na modrých kalhotách.

Voda je nyní klidnější a na hladině se objevují odpadky. Zajímalo by ho, zda se všechny

ty díly, jež do vody naházel během několika posledních dní, usadily na dně ve stejné

části řeky.

Třeba jednoho dne složí nějaká bouře jednotlivé díly znovu dohromady. Jen tak, z rozmaru přírody; pedály se připevní ke klikám, střed kola vklouzne do vidlice, řídítka

hladce zapadnou do objímky, celá ta zatracená věc bude zpátky pohromadě. Třeba se

potom bude moci potopit na dno té stoky a znovu jezdit. Špičky vsune do klipsen, prsty sevře řídítka, natáhne se, aby mohl páčky přehazovačky posunout dopředu a potom projede celé dno řeky kolem všech těch vraků starých krámů. Odhodí kolo do Liffey. 77

To vylétne do vzduchu nad řeku a najednou, zdá se, se skoro zastaví. Jakoby tam ve vzduchu bylo uvězněno, lapeno tím úžasným jasem. Barvy nábřeží se otáčí v kruzích a

hromadí energii uvolněnou z oblohy, divoce se rozptylují, kruté a mírné zároveň, jako

dravec připravený k letu. Na moment pomyslí na maratóny a dresy, sprinty a čelenky, tratě a startovní pistole. Na proplétání se dublinskou dopravou na invalidním vozíku,

závodění s ostatními, možná dokonce na doručování zásilek. Jednoho nebo dvou balíků či dopisů, které na vozíku pobere, pomyslí na skromnou výplatu, na otce sklánějícího

se, aby se na peníze podíval a na cinkot lahví. Na mladší bratry v barevných trikách stojících u cílové čáry a na matku pohrávající si s růžencem.

Z ničeho nic se kolo natočí na stranu a padá. Zděné břehy Liffey se stáhnou, aby ho

pohltily, zatímco ono krájí vzduch s úsporností kamene. Fergus přitiskne trup k zídce nad řekou, ale pět stop nad vodou mu kolo mizí z dohledu. Nastraží uši a čeká na

šplouchnutí, ale to je přehlušeno rachotem nákladního auta blížícího se po silnici od

Guinessu160. Dole se po hladině šíří pravidelné kruhy, které ve velkém stylu dosahují až

k vysokým břehům jakoby něco hledaly, ženou se k nim, zatímco řeka je hned odnáší

dál. Její zpěněná voda plyne a stahuje kolo stále více ke dnu, pomalu a záměrně ho dostává tam, kde bude odpočívat. Fergus se snaží vzpomenout, zda se lednice, když před všemi těmi lety metala nad vodou přemety, otevřela dokořán nebo ne.

Položí ruce na kola invalidního vozíku, zatne zuby, vyrazí podél řeky a s námahou se vydává dál po nábřeží, zatímco kabát mu vlaje ve větru.

160 V originále najdeme výraz ‚from the James‘ Gate Brewery‘, což je označení pro pivovar, kde se v Dublinu vaří Guiness.

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APPENDIX II Snídaně pro Enriqua Jediní starší chlapi, jež znám jsou ti, kteří vstávají brzy do práce. Loví mořské pstruhy a tresky, čluny odráží od mola před východem slunce a ráno se vrací s obrovskými bílými

plastovými barely plnými ryb, které my vykucháme. Zhluboka potahují z cigaret bez filtru, svýma ohromnýma rukama si projíždí kropenaté vousy. Dokonce i ti mladší s

řídnoucími vlasy a očima upřenýma k moři vypadají staře. Můžete je vidět, jak se

pomalu jako racci kolíbají zpět na své čluny potom, co byly jejich úlovky zváženy, a klopýtají ve změti lan a provazů. Nebaví se s lidmi, kteří ryby kuchají. Tichý nezájem.

Vyvolávají v nás jakýsi pocit viny. Tuším, že to způsobují naše nevypracovaná předloktí.

Přemýšlím o nich vždycky po ránu, když dovnitř pronikne přes závěsy světlo. Podobá se starému rybáři v nepromokavém kabátě, který se přichází podívat na mě a Enriqua, zatímco jsme ještě zachumlaní v peřinách.

Dnes ráno ale přichází divné světlo, starší, má mohutná předloktí, dovnitř se tlačí

škvírou mezi závěsy, povaluje se na čele postele a odhaluje tak zrnka prachu. Zatraceně,

nejste vy dva ta sůl země? Enrique je stočený na boku, křivka jeho zad proti klubku

nohou. Vlasy má rozházené všude po obličeji. Na bradě mu roste krátké strniště. Pod očima se mu objevily černé kruhy a bílé triko má špinavé od špaget, které jsme měli včera k obědu. Přiblížím se, abych se mohl rty dotknout jeho tváře. Enrique se jemně

zavrtí a já zahlédnu krvavé prstýnky na polštáři v místě, kde si odkašlal. Vstávejte,

padejte z postele, vy prasata líný. Uhladím mu obočí, kde se mu nashromáždil pot dokonce i ve spánku.

Nahý vylezu z postele a vklouznu nohama do bačkor. Podlaha je studená a já opatrně našlapuji. Včera v noci jsem rozbil sklenici od borůvkové marmelády, kam jsme ukládali peníze. Třpytivé střepy se rozletěly po celé místnosti. Jdu k oknu a Enrique

něco zamumlá do polštáře. Závěsy vydají zvuk praskajícího ledu. Duchové starých rybářů se teď mohou valit dovnitř v celých stádech a pokud by chtěli, mohou plivat své 79

nadávky po celém pokoji. Co je tohle kurva za bordel? Přídeš pozdě do práce. Irskej chlapečku. Dneska se navigační sirény nevypnou. Rybu musíš kuchat podélně, ty blbe.

Z okna máme výhled na prudký kopec plný zaparkovaných aut. Dnes ráno stojí těsně za sebou, nárazník na nárazníku. Řidiči vždy stočí volant na stranu, aby auta samovolně nevyrazila dolů z kopce a neskončila v moři. Před dvěma týdny jsme s Enriquem

prodali auto za 2700 dolarů pánovi s vlasy žlutými jak citrón. Peníze už jsou ale

všechny pryč. Tašky plné léků a malinko kokainu. Poslední lajnu jsem dal včera večer Enriqueovi na břicho ale tolik se potil, že bylo skoro nemožné si šňupnout.

Podívám se na konec ulice směrem k potravinám. Na ulici je spousta bělavého světla. Věší se na budovy, padá na železné zábradlí. Na téhle ulici se mi líbí nejvíc, že si lidé

dávají do oken květiny, vytvářející barevnou změť středomořské zelené a červené.

Dveře jsou také natřené směsicí všech barev. Závěsy se zde roztahují brzy ráno. Ve třetím patře naproti přes ulici je v okně kočka černá jako uhel, přes sebe ušmudlaný šátek. Donekonečna sedí v okně, pohazuje hlavou na stranu a zívá. Někdy domů donesu pstruha a nechám ho na prahu domu pro majitele.

Zakryji se rukou a vyjdu ven balkónovými dveřmi. Od vody fouká studený vítr, nesoucí s sebou vůni slané vody a chlebového těsta. Teď už budou mít někteří rybáři vyložený

úlovek a Paulie si bude zběsile prohrabovat vlasy. Kde je O’Meara dneska ráno?, budou mu říkat, že by měl za sebou vášnivou noc? Zbylí tři kuchači nad fláky ryb

nadávají, zatímco velká ručička hodin na zdi skladiště obíhá kolem. Plastové rukovice budou celé od krve. Šňůry střev jim padají na boty. Ten blb chodí stejně furt pozdě.

Měl bych si nandat staré džíny a zavolat taxi, nebo chytit tramvaj, nebo jet na kole přes

kopec rovnou dolů ke skladišti, ale světlo dnes ráno je neobvykle těžké, netečné a pomalé a já mám chuť zůstat.

Enrique vedle mě v ložnici kašle a chrchlá do polštáře. Zní to jako spílání racků u

mořských útesů trochu výš na Kalifornském pobřeží. Pleť kolem jeho úst vypadá nezdravě a jakoby příliš napjatě. Tím, jak se v posteli převrací, mi připomněl mládě

chřástala161. Jednou jsem si takové přinesl domů, když ve městě, kde jsem bydlel,

161

Chřástal polní (v originále baby corncrake)je druh ptáka.

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unikl olej. Bylo to poblíž zálivu Bantry Bay a to mládě zčernalými křídly vytrvale bylo o klec a snažilo se dostat ven.

Brzy by se měl probudit, třeba se dnes bude cítit lépe a bude se moci posadit a přečíst si knihu nebo časopis. Sehnu se posbírám kusy rozbitého skla. Na zdi je v místě, kam jsem

sklenici hodil, dlouhá jizva. To bylo chytré O’Mearo, nebo snad ne? Ve sklenici najdu

zapomenuté dva čtvrťáky a několik deseticentů. Na zemi leží také irská pětipence, anachronizmus, vzpomínka.

Vyndám si z prstu drobný střep a Enrique se v posteli znovu pohne. Hubne víc a víc,

postupně se mi ztrácí před očima. Je jak skořápka sokolího vajíčka a povlečení už brzy sotva zašustí. Přesunu se do koupelny a spěšně se vymočím do umyvadla. Enrique vždycky říkal, že je to mnohem lepší výška a odpadá tak riziko pocákání prkénka. Ne

zrovna hygienické, ale zato neobyčejně příjemné. Moje oči v zrcadle vypadají krvavě a všimnu si také ztrhaného výrazu ve tváři. Jak se umývám, pořád z rukou cítím ryby

z předešlého dne. Máme poslední mýdlo a z kohoutku teče kovově načervenalá voda. Zpátky v ložnici si nandám džíny, dřevorubecké kostkaté triko a černou kšiltovku. Prohledám kapsy u kalhot, najdu další tři dolary a kouknu na hodinky. Další hodina zpoždění už nic nezmění. Můj kabát visí na posteli. Nakloním se k Enriqovi a řeknu mu,

že jsem za chvilku zpátky Ani se nepohne. No, není to prostě roztomilý, O’Mearo? Skoč ven a dones Enriquovi snídani.

Vítr v zádech mě pohání dál ulicí plnou aut, podél řady mladých stromků, přes dětské

křídové značky na panáka, až do potravin, kde za pultem pracuje Betty. Je to starý obchůdek, na podlaze černé a bílé dlaždičky běžící podél zdí dozadu. Betty je mohutná

tmavovlasá žena, která – vtipkuje Enrique – by byla schopná zařídit si své osobní poštovní směrovací číslo. Často nosí upnutá tílka a masy povoleného masa, jež ji visí

z podpaždí, by na komkoliv jiném byly obscénní, ale k ní se skoro hodí. Na druhém

konci města poblíž knihkupectví City Lights láká jeden kabaretní vyvolávač na show Zpocené Betty, ale já nikdy nenašel kuráž zajít dovnitř a podívat se, jestli se nahoře na pódiu natřásá v záři reflektorů právě ona.

Betty se s uličkami mezi regály vyrovnává po krabím způsobu, místy svými zadními

partiemi shodí vystavený štos pytlíků brambůrek. Když krájí šunku, je stejně tlustá jako její prsty. Zevnitř na dveřích je zvonek a jakmile vejdu, vykoukne zpoza pokladny a odloží noviny.

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„Ty můj divokej irskej chlapečku,“ říká. „Kam ten spěch?“ „Přijdu pozdě do práce. Jdu jen pro pár věcí.“ „Pořád děláš dole na těch jatkách?“ „Ve skladišti. Kuchám ryby.“

„Žádnej rozdíl.“ Její smích se rozezní po celém obchodě. Vázání ve výstřihu její bílé

blůzy nadskakuje. Její zuby jsou úžasně bílé, ale všimnu si do živého masa okousaných nehtů. Zvonek zacinká a dovnitř vejde párek starších Asiatů, za nimi muž, ve kterém rozpoznám barmana z ulice Geary Street. Betty každému rozvlněně pokyne na pozdrav.

Chodím uličkami tam a zpátky a pohrávám si se svými třemi dolary a osmdesáti centy v kapse a prohlížím ceny. Káva nepřipadá v úvahu, stejně tak kroasanty za dolar jeden v regálu s pečivem. Nicméně, jablečný koláč by mohl obstát. Jak procházím kolem

regálů s jídlem, vybavují se mi jiné snídaně. Párky a plátky slaniny usmažené

v předměstské irské kuchyni, kde digestoř odsává kouř, plastové hrnky plné pomerančového džusu, kukuřičné lupínky plovoucí v mléku, kousky pudinku

naaranžované na otlučených bílých talířích, smažená rajčata a toast s trochou másla.

V pozadí z rádia promlouvá Gay Byrne, zatímco nestíhající matka ve vzorované zástěře zakrývá tělem sporák a pozoruje, jak z rychlovarné konvice stoupá pára. Potom ranní

šlapání na mém Raleighu162 rychle na přednášky na dublinské univerzitě, v kapse saka sušenka Weetabix163. Jednou také šampus s jahodami v Sausalitu s milencem, který si svůj hnědý knír stáčel mezi zuby.

Sáhnu do lednice pro malou plastovou láhev pomerančového džusu, půltucet vajec, dva pomeranče a banán na ovocný salát, do podpaždí strčím francouzskou bagetu. Doma

máme máslo a marmeládu, možná i pár pytlíků čaje. Betty prodává kusové cigarety, jednu za dvacet pět centů. Dvě - jedna pro Enriqua a jedna pro mě - budou fajn. Zítra

večer dostanu ve skladišti výplatu – nabručený Paulie se tam bude hrbit nad šeky, pár

starých zbloudilých rybářů bude pochrchlávat ve svých člunech – a koupím steak a zeleninu. Jenom trochu ovšem. Enrique má v poslední době s jídlem problémy a modrý kýbl vedle naší postele je odpudivá ozdoba.

162 163

Raleigh je značka kola.

Weetabix je v Británii i Irsku oblíbená potravinářská značka.

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Jak tlačím nákup k pokladně, Betty se na mě pozorně podívá.

„Jak se má pacient?“ Ptá se. „Za poslední tři týdny se neukázal.“ „Pořád je zalezlej v posteli.“ „Něco nového?“ „Nic, bohužel.“

Zatřepe hlavou a sešpulí rty. Sáhnu do kapsy pro dobré. „Eště čtyři kusovky, prosim.“

Betty se natáhne nahoru pro krabičku lehkých Marlbor a pošle ji ke mně po pultu. „To je na mě“ řekne. „Nevykuřte je všechny najednou, zlato.“ Několikrát jí poděkuji a

rychle je strčím do kapsy trika. Betty se nakloní přes pult a chytne mě za levou ruku: „A

vyřiď tomu svýmu chlapovi, ať mi sem co nejdřív přijde ukázat ten svůj pěknej argentinskej zadek.“

„Za pár dnů vstane a staví se tu,“ řeknu a dávám jídlo do bílé igelitky, kterou omotám kolem zápěstí. „Ještě jednou dík za ty cíga.“

Dveře za mnou zaklapnou a ulice jako by se přede mnou doširoka rozevřela. Malé

projevy dobroty štědře voní po naději. Dvacet cigaret může člověka udělat šťastným. Neohrabaně přeskáču křídové znaky – už to jsou roky, co jsem to naposledy hrál – a posadím se na obrubník mezi zelený Saab a oranžovou dodávku, abych si zapálil.

Podívám se na konec ulice a rozeznám náš balkón, kde ale po Enriqueovi není ani známky.

Včera večer se málem rozbrečel, když se kokain v jeho potu slil, ale když jsem zbytek z

jeho břicha sebral a nasypal na zrcátko, odstrčil ho, otočil se tváří ke zdi a pozoroval

fotografii, kde raftuje na řece Paraně. Fotka už bledne a po krajích je celá zažloutlá. To, jak se uprostřed peřejí vyklání z člunu, pádlo připravené zabrat, se mi nyní zdá podivné, nepopsatelně smutné. K řece se už léta nepřiblížil a vyjít ven nezkusil skoro měsíc.

Rozbalili jsme v pokoji spací pytle a používáme je místo pokrývek. Naše televize leží vedle luku ve výloze zastavárny. Peníze z nedotknutelných zásob zmizely, ale Enrique je neoblomný a nenechá mě zavolat jeho otci. Lidé z pojišťovny jsou vlídní ale

neústupní. Někdy si představuji muže, jak stojí na úplném vrcholku Tierry del Fuego, ruce vzpažené vzhůru vstříc kondorům, kteří mávají křídly proti červenající se obloze a přemýšlí, kde je asi konec jeho synovi. Někde tam je i matka.

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Enrique někdy mluví o stěhování se do Pampasu. Častěji ho tam ale brává jeho fantazie a to pak stavíme dřevěný plot kolem ranče, zatímco severní vítr ohýbá trávu a večer pozorujeme slunce klouzající za vzdálený větrný mlýn.

Pozdě v noci se často budí a mluví z cesty. Je to vždy ten samý obrázek. Když byl malý,

otec měl dobytčí farmu a on chodíval ven s kamarády. Závodili v peřejích divoké řeky, plavali proti proudu a ten, kdo zůstal nejdéle na stejném místě, vyhrál. Někdy se v proudu udržel, plaval na místě a bojoval hlava nehlava, aniž by si všiml, že jeho kamarádi už byli v půli řeky. Po závodě pak chytali rukama ryby. Pak zapálili oheň a

ryby snědli. Byl to Enrique, kdo mě naučil kuchat ryby, když jsem dostal práci dole ve skladišti. Jedním pohybem prstu můžete hladce vyndat všechny vnitřnosti.

Když smažím vajíčka, pokaždé dávám pozor, abych nezapomněl přidat trochu mléka a

abych to v míse pořádně rozmíchal, takže když jsou vejce usmažená, nikde nezůstane ani jeden táhlý kousek bílku. Jediným rušivým elementem v matčiných snídaních byly

právě úzké dlouhé syrové bílé kousky. Naše kuchyň je malá. Je tam prostor akorát pro jednoho. Položím bagetu na linku a nakrájím ji, potom ji pomažu máslem. Sporák se nahřívá dlouho. Mezitím ohřeji vodu na čaj a do konvice pomalované slunečnicemi vložím několik čajových sáčků.

Slyším, jak se Enrique souká z postele a pomalu míří k oknu. Nejdříve mě ten zvuk

poleká, ale jsem rád, že je vzhůru. Doufám, že si nepořeže nohy o žádný ze střepů –

doktor nám řekl, že čím déle to takhle pokračuje, tím je pravděpodobnější, že něco jako

říznutí bude hodně dlouho krvácet. Na skle hodin sporáku se nashromáždila pára. ‘Deš

zas pozdě O’Mearo, to’s byl trhat růže? Oloupu pomeranče a aranžuji jednotlivé

měsíčky na talíř. Nebo sis ho honil, to je vono O’Mearo? Zaslechnu zapnutí rádia a

zvuk židle, tažené na balkón. Doufám, že si pod župan vzal šálu, jinak se do něho dá zima. Byl bych si přál, abych ho tam viděl, když jsem byl dole na ulici – jen tak by tam

seděl a díval se do dáli přes bělavé město, s vlasy podobajícími se mořským řasám a

chlupy táhnoucími se od hrudi nahoru směrem ke krku, s tváří vytesanou z kamene a s tou jizvou na bradě, co vypadá jako nezdařilý uzel na perském koberci.

Vejce prskají a tvrdnou, lepí se na kraj pánve. Seškrábnu je vidličkou a nandám trošku

na dva talíře. Lehce jsem připálil chleba a voda se stále nevaří. Úžasná věc, ta voda. Molekuly do sebe vráží v obrovské rychlosti, předávají jedna druhé energii; dávají 84

teplo, ztrácejí teplo. Kéž bychom tak uměli dělat to samé. Ve skladišti trávím čas

přemýšlením o takhle krutě pošetilých věcech, pomalu odpočítávajíc hodiny. Tady ve městě je kupa lidí, co by s radostí kuchali ryby, ty buzno. Na třetí talíř položím chleba a

čekám. Když se voda konečně začne vařit, zaliji čajové sáčky a dávám přitom pozor, aby papírky zůstaly vně hrnků. Poskládám tři talíře na jednu ruku do tvaru čtyřlístku – než jsem potkal Enriqua, dělal jsem číšníka – a ukazováčkem sevřu ucha obou hrnků.

Dveře do ložnice jsou pootevřené. Levou nohou je otevřu dokořán. Dveře zavržou, ale on se na židli neohlédne. Doprava je asi příliš hlučná. Vidím, jak zakašle a odplivne si

do jednoho z květináčů. Znovu se na židli opře. Venku je teď trochu víc šedavo, jelikož

slunce zakryly mraky. Všimnu si, že posbíral všechny zbylé kousky sklenice rozsypané u postele. Polštář je obrácený a krvavé skvrny už nejsou vidět, ale na prostěradle leží chomáč černých vlasů. Ve dvaceti sedmi je člověk příliš mladý, aby ztrácel vlasy.

Přejdu po podlaze tak potichu jak jen to jde. Má teď hlavu opřenou o židli. Závěsy ve

dveřích zašustí kolem mé nohy a kroužky na konzoly zacinkají. Přikradu se zezadu k židli, nakloním se přes něj, podám mu čaj a on se usměje. Jeho tvář se zdá být neobvykle znavená, vrásky vedle očí se rozbíhají do dálky, obočí příliš těžké. Políbíme

se a on fouká do čaje, z něhož stoupá pára. Do háje, proč vlastně nosíš ty zatracený náramky, O’Mearo?

„Myslel jsem, že už si pryč.“ „Za pár minut.“ „Jasně.“

„Napadlo mě, že by bylo hezký dát si snídani.“

„Paráda.“ Sahá pro talíř. „Nejsem si jistej, jestli...“

„V pohodě. Sněz, kolik budeš moct.“ Položím svůj talíř na podlahu balkónu a zapnu si

horní knoflík u trika, abych se schoval před větrem. Dole na ulici rachotí auta. Nějací

mladíci převzali křídového panáka. Od moře vane lehký vítr, prodírá se skrze stromy a je plný ohromné svěžesti. Enrique sešpulí rty jakoby chtěl něco říct a pak je nechá zase

uvolnit, podívá se znovu na ulici, malý úsměv praská v koutcích.. Na tvářích raší krátké strniště. Kruhy pod očima tmavnou.

„Mám i nějaký cigára,“ řeknu. „Betty mi je dala. A trochu pomerančovýho džusu, jestli chceš“.

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„Perfektní.“ Enrique opatrně dloubá do vajíček a posunuje stroužky pomeranče po talíři. Pak se natáhne pro krajíc chleba a pomalu odlamuje kůrku. „Nádhernej den, ne?“ Řekne najednou a rozmáchne se rukou ukazujíc na ulici. „Úžasnej.“

„V rádiu řikali, že nejvyšší teplota bude kolem dvaceti stupňů“ „Ideální „V

počasí na nicnedělání,“ řeknu.

noci bude nejmíň kolem deseti.“

„To se bude dobře spát.“

Kývne hlavou a změní na židli pozici. Kousek kůrky mu spadne do klína na župan. Sáhne pro ni a položí ji na kraj talíře. „Dobrý vajíčka,“ řekne. „Kéž bych nemusel do skladiště.“

„Mohli bysme tu jen tak sedět a povídat si.“ „To bysme mohli,“ řeknu.

Sedím tam a pozoruji, jak objíždí vidličkou po kraji talíře zatímco mu těžknou oční víčka. Hrnek s čajem stojí na zemi vedle jeho židle. Opře si hlavu vzadu o židli a

vzdychne. Jeho hruď poskakuje jako hruď ptáčete. První kapky potu se hromadí na jeho obočí. Pozoruji, jak vidlička klouže po talíři a boří se do jídla. Podívám se dolů na auta projíždějící pod námi a najednou pochopím, že jsme unášeni proudem, Enrique i já, a že

auta dole se pohybují docela plynule a snaží se vzít nás s sebou, zatímco on se pere a proudu navzdory se drží na jednom místě. Sedím a pozoruji, jak spí a snídaně stydne.

Za pár minut půjdu do práce a vykuchám vše, co mi přinesou, ale v tomhle okamžiku

pozoruji Enriquovo tělo, tenhle dům potu, řeč aminokyselin, jak pomalu podléhá rozkladu.

Enrique mi jednou vyprávěl příběh o hvězdici.

Na pobřeží pod Buenos Aires jednou žil lovec ústřic, který obdělával svou malou část

zálivu. Neposlouchal generace lovců ústřic před ním ani jejich rady, triky a pověry. Všecko, co věděl bylo, že hvězdice se živí ústřicemi. Když uvízly v jeho sítích, vždy je

vzal a pečlivě přeřízl jejich pěticípé symetrické tělo napůl. Poté je hodil zpět do vody a pokračoval v rybaření. Představoval jsem si ho jako statného vousatého muže s hrubým

smíchem. Netušil ovšem, že když se hvězdice přesekne napůl, nezajde ale doroste. Za každou, kterou přeřízl, se tak narodila jedna navíc. Divil se, jaktože všude bylo tolik 86

hvězdic a tak málo ústřic, až mu to pověděl jeden starší rybář. Od té doby nechal rybář

hvězdice být, přestože je mohl třeba odvézt na břeh a zahodit je za jednu z těch velkých

šedých skal nebo vyhodit do velikého stříbrného koše na molu, odkud by je děti po cestě ze školy vytahaly a házely by s nimi jako s kameny.

Během těchto dní se najdou momenty, podivné chvilky přicházející mezi mými nesmyslnými úvahami, kdy se ptám, proč rybáři s cigaretami visícími ze rtů nikdy

nemůžou zabloudit do skladiště, se dvěma dorostlými hvězdicemi v obrovských rukách, a

říct mi naprosto užaslému:

představit?

Koukni na tohle O’Mearo, Jéžiši koukni na to, dovedeš si to

87

MASARYK UNIVERSITY BRNO Faculty of Education Department of English Language and Literature

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