Himself by Jess Kidd
When Mahony shows up in the village of Mulderrig, the publican notes that while he has "a sort of bearing about him," his trousers are "ridiculous...wide enough at the bottom to mop the main road."
Jack, the guard, invites the newcomer to sit by him. The cop, we're told, "works his stretch of the coast, sorting out the wicked, the misjudged and the maligned without once having to raise his voice."
But this village has dirty secrets, and to save his life, Mahony has to blow them wide open. He finds an ally in the ancient Mrs. Cauley. a long-ago star who once held sway on the the Abbey Theatre in Dublin. The old lady now "lies in state" in the ruined library of her once-imposing house, which retains its "good bone structure," though the mice now have the run of the guest rooms."
The feisty old woman may have "teeth like a row of bombed houses," but she still notices that the newcomer is good-looking. In no time he's begun to charm her and she's judiciously spilling certain village gossip. When he leaves, her warning to her housekeeper Shauna not to "try it on" with him is only half in fun. Mrs. Cauley is not the only widow, but the other one is in mourning, and has been "since the death of de Valera."
This first novel has a large cast of characters, including the unappealing Father Quinn, whose confessional laps up "tales of suffering and spite," and "feeds on shame and remorse. Insincerely kind, the priest "pours the tea with spiteful servitude" for a parishioner he can't bully. Bridget, "who came with the parochial house, is the first to admit that she isn't a patch on her late mammy in the housekeeping department." Though her skill set includes wiring houses, castrating bulls, and drinking the publican under the table, she "holds no truck with the relentless drudgery of housework or the moral authority of Catholic priests." According to Mrs. Cauley, she's also "deep enough to make a well look shallow."
The dead pay visits too, though only Mahony and select others are able to see them. Moreover, even for those with the sight, the dead, "like cats -- don't always come when they're called."
Taking readers back in time, the author allows us to glimpse a possible fate for Mahony's lost mother. Did she really run away to Dublin in her "brand-new baby and her second-hand coat," only to hand the boy over to an orphanage? It seems unlikely that a loving mother would allow her son to be brought up in an orphanage where the "nuns have eyes in the backs of their habits." They "rub their relics if they want to put a saint on you. Then you're truly banjaxed."
Orla, the young unwed mother of Mahony, is well and truly banjaxed. When her parents fail horribly in their duty to care for their child, the father runs away, the mother blames the daughter and the priest blames both.
Early in the novel, we are shown the innocent but telling image of "the mammies inside getting the dinner and the daddies inside waiting to go out for a jar." As Kidd relentlessly unlocks the secrets of the villagers in a series of brief evocations, the reader wonders whether it will be possible for that initial innocence to return.
Meanwhile, with its "magical powers," a good pint can "heal surface wounds" and "cement minor friendships." Boys hot-wire cars, and women "sell black-market fireworks out of prams." At the Post Office and General Store, Marie Gaughan sells rat traps, knicker elastic, feather dusters, "water butts and garden hoses," as well as "banned books and jam made from hedgerows." On the day of the Village Festival, a theatrical evening, villagers fight over roles, "animals are sold...and marriages are brokered in the car park."
The characters are vivid, the themes weighty, and the plot complex and suspenseful. This reader derived equal joy from the vivid originality of the author's voice and language. As a Creative Writing student at St. Mary's University in London, author Jess Kidd wrote a thesis melding genres in crime fiction. In this novel, she's applied the techniques brilliantly.