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At Swim, Two Boys Hardcover – March 5, 2002
Purchase options and add-ons
- Print length576 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherScribner
- Publication dateMarch 5, 2002
- Dimensions6.25 x 1.5 x 9.25 inches
- ISBN-109780743222945
- ISBN-13978-0743222945
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In the spring of 1915, Jim Mack and "the Doyler," two Dublin boys, make a pact to swim to an island in Dublin Bay the following Easter. By the time they do, Dublin has been consumed by the Easter Uprising, and the boys' friendship has blossomed into love--a love that will in time be overtaken by tragedy. O'Neill's prose, playing merrily with vocabulary, syntax, and idiom, has unsurprisingly drawn comparisons to James Joyce and Samuel Beckett, but in his creation of comic characters (such as Jim's pathetic but irrepressible father) and in the sheer scale of his work, Charles Dickens springs to mind first. But Dickens never wrote a love story between young men as achingly beautiful as this.
In the character of Anthony MacMurrough, who is haunted by voices as he pursues his illegal and dangerous desire for Dublin boys, O'Neill has created a complex and fascinating center to his novel, rescuing the love story from mawkishness, and allowing a serious meditation on history, politics, and desire. For as Ireland seeks its own future free of British government, so Jim, Doyle, and MacMurrough look back to Sparta to find a way to live. As Dr Scrotes, one of MacMurrough's voices, commands: Help these boys build a nation of their own. Ransack the histories for clues to their past. Plunder the literature for words they can speak. In this massive, enthralling, and brilliant debut, Jamie O'Neill has indeed done just that: provided a nation for what Walt Whitman calls, in O'Neill's epigraph, "the love of comrades." --Alan Stewart, Amazon.co.uk
From Library Journal
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
At the corner of Adelaide Road, where the paving sparkled in the morning sun, Mr. Mack waited by the newspaper stand. A grand day it was, rare and fine. Puff-clouds sailed through a sky of blue. Fair-weather cumulus to give the correct designation: on account they cumulate, so Mr. Mack believed. High above the houses a seagull glinted, gliding on a breeze that carried from the sea. Wait now, was it cumulate or accumulate he meant? The breeze sniffed of salt and tide. Make a donkey of yourself, inwardly he cautioned, using words you don't know their meaning. And where's this paper chappie after getting to?
In delicate clutch an Irish Times he held. A thruppenny piece, waiting to pay, rolled in his fingers. Every so often his hand queried his elbow -- Parcel safe? Under me arm, his hand-pat assured him.
Glasthule, homy old parish, on the lip of Dublin Bay. You could see the bay, a wedge of it, between the walls of a lane, with Howth lying out beyond. The bay was blue as the sky, a tinge deeper, and curiously raised-looking when viewed dead on. The way the sea would be sloping to the land. If this paper chappie don't show up quick, bang goes his sale. Cheek of him leaving customers wait in the street.
A happy dosser was nosing along the lane and Mr. Mack watched with lenient disdain. Any old bone. Lick of something out of a can. Dog's life really. When he came to the street Mr. Mack touched a finger to his hat, but the happy dosser paid him no regard. He slouched along and Mr. Mack saw it puddling after, something he had spilt in the road, his wasted civility. Lips pursed with comment, he pulled, squeezing, one droop of his bush mustache.
"Oh hello, Mrs. Conway, grand day it is, grand to be sure, tip-top and yourself keeping dandy?"
Nice class of lady, left foot, but without the airs. Saw me waiting with an Irish Times, twice the price of any other paper. They remark such things, the quality do. Glory be, I hope she didn't think -- his Irish Times dropped by his side -- Would she ever have mistook me for the paperman, do you think?
Pages fluttered on the newspaper piles, newsboards creaked in the breeze. Out-of-the-way spot for a paper stand. Had supposed to be above by the railway station. But this thoolamawn has it currently, what does he do only creeps it down, little by little, till now he has it smack outside of Fennelly's --
Mr. Mack swivelled on his heels. Fennelly's public house. The corner doors were propped wide where the boy was mopping the steps. Late in the morning to be still at his steps. The gloom inside gave out a hum of amusement, low mouths of male companionship, gathered by the amber glow of the bar. Mr. Mack said Aha! with his eyes. He thrust his head inside the door, waved his paper in the dark. "'Scuse now, gents." He hadn't his hat back on his head before a roar of hilarity, erupting at the bar, hunted him away, likely to shove him back out in the street.
Well, by the holy. He gave a hard nod to the young bucko leaning on his mop and grinning. What was that about?
Presently, a jerky streak of anatomy distinguished itself in the door, coughing and spluttering while it came, and shielding its eyes from the sun. "Is it yourself, Sergeant?"
"Hello now, Mr. Doyle," said Mr. Mack.
"Quartermaster-Sergeant Mack, how are you, how's every hair's breadth of you, what cheer to see you so spry." A spit preceded him to the pavement. "You weren't kept waiting at all?" This rather in rebuttal than inquiry. "Only I was inside getting of bronze for silver. Paper is it?"
The hades you were, thought Mr. Mack, and the smell of drink something atrocious. "Fennelly has a crowd in," he remarked, "for the hour."
"Bagmen," the paperman replied. "Go-boys on the make out of Dublin. And a miselier mischaritable unChristianer crew -- "
Ho ho ho, thought Mr. Mack. On the cadge, if I know my man. Them boys inside was too nimble for him.
"Would you believe, Sergeant, they'd mock a man for the paper he'd read?"
"What's this now?" said Mr. Mack.
The paperman chucked his head. "God be their judge and a bitter one, say I. And your good self known for a decent skin with no more side than a margarine."
Mr. Mack could not engage but a rise was being took out of him. The paperman made play of settling his papers, huffling and humphing in that irritating consumptive way. He made play of banging his chest for air. He spat, coughing with the spittle, a powdery disgruntled cough -- "Choky today," said he -- and Mr. Mack viewed the spittle-drenched sheet he now held in his hand. This fellow, the curse of an old comrade, try anything to vex me.
"I'm after picking up," choosily he said, "an Irish Times, only I read here -- "
"An Irish Times, Sergeant? Carry me out and bury me decent, so you have and all. Aren't you swell away with the high-jinkers there?"
Mr. Mack plumped his face and a laugh, like a fruit, dropped from his mouth. "I wouldn't know about any high-jinkers," he confided. "Only I read here 'tis twice the price of any other paper. Twice the price," he repeated, shaking his cautious head. A carillon of coins chinkled in his pocket. "I don't know now can the expense be justified."
"Take a risk of it, Sergeant, and damn the begrudgers." The paperman leant privily forward. "A gent on the up, likes of yourself, isn't it worth it alone for the shocks and stares?"
Narrowly Mr. Mack considered his man. A fling or a fox-paw, he couldn't be certain sure. He clipped his coin on the paper-stack. "Penny, I believe," he said.
"Thruppence," returned Mr. Doyle. "Balance two dee to the General."
Mr. Mack talked small while he waited for his change. "Grand stretch of weather we're having."
"'Tisn't the worst."
"Grand I thought for the time of year."
"Thanks be to God."
"Oh thanks be to God entirely."
Mr. Mack's face faltered. Had ought to get my thanks in first. This fellow, not a mag to bless himself with, doing me down always. He watched him shambling through the pockets of his coat. And if it was change he was after in Fennelly's it was devilish cunning change for never the jingle of a coin let out. A smile fixed on Mr. Mack's face. Barking up the wrong tree with me, my merry old sweat. Two dee owed.
At last the paperman had the change found. Two lusterless pennies, he held them out, the old sort, with the old Queen's hair in a bun. Mr. Mack was on the blow of plucking them in his fingers when the paperman coughed -- "Squeeze me" -- coughed into his -- "Squeeze me peas, Sergeant" -- coughed into his sleeve. Not what you'd call coughing but hacking down the tracts of his throat to catch some breath had gone missing there. His virulence spattered the air between, and Mr. Mack thought how true what they say, take your life in your hands every breath you breathe.
He cleared his own throat and said, "I trust I find you well?"
"Amn't I standing, God be praised?" With a flump then he was down on the butter-box he kept for a seat.
Bulbous, pinkish, bush-mustached, Mr. Mack's face lowered. He'd heard it mentioned right enough, that old Doyle, he was none too gaudy this weather. Never had thought to find him this far gone. That box wouldn't know of him sitting on it. He looked down on the dull face, dull as any old copper, with the eyes behind that looked chancy back. Another fit came on, wretched to watch, like something physical had shook hold the man; and Mr. Mack reached his hand to his shoulder.
"Are you all right there, Mick?"
"Be right in a minute, Arthur. Catch me breath is all."
Mr. Mack gave a squeeze of his hand, feeling the bones beneath. "Will I inquire in Fennelly's after a drop of water?"
"I wouldn't want to be bothering Fennelly for water, though."
Them chancy old eyes. Once upon a time them eyes had danced. Bang goes sixpence, thought
Product details
- ASIN : 0743222946
- Publisher : Scribner; First Edition (March 5, 2002)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 576 pages
- ISBN-10 : 9780743222945
- ISBN-13 : 978-0743222945
- Item Weight : 1.8 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.25 x 1.5 x 9.25 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #939,019 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #3,150 in LGBTQ+ Genre Fiction (Books)
- #42,125 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- #58,364 in Historical Fiction (Books)
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Many reviewers have discussed the touching and tragic love affair between "Doyler" Doyle and Jim Mack, bright 17 year old boys who have known each other all their lives. Thus a touching coming of age story is embedded in the larger text.
Other reviewers have discussed the wonderful play of comedy and tragedy in the book. Mr. Mack and Madame Evaline MacMurrough certainly display the human comedy all to well. Yet, no one is a clown in this novel. O'Neill's gift is that he draws each character with respect and justice, a feature Iris Murdoch says is essential for the novelist. Somewhat foolish characters, such as Mr. Mack, grow and emerge as heroic.
Other reviewers select to analyze Anthony MacMurrough, the wounded intellectual young man who initiates sex with Doyler Doyle and plays somewhat of a Oscar Wilde character in the novel. There is much to discuss in this character who comes from Irish gentry but spends two years in prison in London for trying to pick up a serving man for a sexual encounter. He is beaten in the beginning of the novel, even his personality has become fractured and disjointed. He appears to prey on young men. But as the novel progresses, he becomes somewhat of a protector and social anchor for the romance of two young men, protecting their love because he knows society will reject it.
I would rather discuss the theme of identity that O'Neill masterfully explores in this novel. However, I can't resist commenting on the resiliency of Doyler Doyle.
First, the novel is about the nature of repressed identity and the consequences of that repression. This is so perfectly drawn as O'Neill compares the way that homosexual identity was repressed with severe criminal sanctions and he compares this to the Irish identity, again an identity that was repressed by the British. However, homosexuals and Irishmen both practice self-repression to avoid conflict and survive. O'Neill's brillance is showing the comparison between the emergence of gay identity in his young characters simultaneously to the emergence of Irish identify in these and other characters. Madame Evaline MacMurrough chastizes her gay nephew for his homosexuality, which she wishes he would keep hidden, yet she boldly encourages his emergence as an Irish radical and his acceptance of his Irish identity. It is a sign of MacMurrough's strength that he emerges from the tragic end with realistic hope alive.
Second, the novel is not only about repressed identity but also fluid identity. The names of the characters in the novel change over time as the reader becomes more intimate with these characters. All the characters change and grow, which was an act of masterful orchestration by O'Neill. Madame MacMurrough and Mr. Mack become much more radicalized for the cause of Ireland while Jim Mack struggles with his sexual desires and his strict Catholic beliefs. Anthony MacMurrough changes from a defeated intellectual to a man who shares his strengths and protects the love of two boys.
Third, the novel reflected the complexities of human relationships. The ancient grudge between Mr. Mack and Mr. Doyle has festered until Mr. Mack breaks the deadlock while Mr. Doyle is dying of TB. Another example is when Mr. Mack's oldest son, Gordon, dies in Turkey during World War I leaving a pregnant serving girl behind. Aunt Sawney in her old wisdom refuses to allow this girl to be driven homeless out of town and moves her into the Mack home. The relationships between Doyler Doyle, Anthony MacMurrough, and Jim Mack are the most complex moving from sexual encounters and attraction to mentoring and romance.
Fourth, the novel has one of the most resilient characters in English literature in Doyler. He is a bright verbal fearless energetic young man raised in abject poverty with an alcoholic father and washer-woman mother. He displays appropriate pride and humility throughout and can not help but to become a character that readers come to love. He refuses to be defeated. When the Catholic Priest throws him out of hte boys band when he finds Doyler has a socialist pin, he emerges victorious and more experienced. When he is seduced by Anthony MacMurrough, he grows from being rough trade to full gay identity, never falling into the role of victim.
Fifth, the novel firmly establishes the historical grounding that assists us all in identity development. Whether this is the Gaelic language and history that Doyler has learned, or the gay identity that MacMurrough has found in historical context, that identity is dependent on social structure is perfectly displayed in the growth of these characters.
I always want to be challenged by excellent literature and this wonderful novel hits the mark!
Set in the years leading up to WWI and the formation of the Irish Republican Army, "At Swim, Two Boys" is more than a love story. More than a 'coming out' or 'coming of age' story. It's a tale of acceptance and understanding that defies the limitations of gender, class, age or time. It's as much about the tension between the English and Irish, as it is about the insanity of hatred of Protestant for Catholic, or Heterosexual for Homosexual. Even the relationship between Jim and Doyler's fathers is destroyed because of the split between Sergeants and Privates in the military. Everything about this book relates to divisions between people that exist for no good reason.
The love story between Jim and Doyler is more of a love triangle, since both of them become devoted to Anthony MacMurrough. MacMurrough, an Oscar Wilde contemporary, sees Wilde as a sort of folk hero, and sees himself as a kindred spirit. His taste for young boys leads him into a friendship with Doyler. Fifteen year old Doyler is in love with Fourteen year old Jim, but in the beginning, neither of them is sophisticated enough to realise the full implication of a homosexual relationship. So they become devoted friends, while a sexual relationship ensues between Doyler and the much older MacMurrough. The sexual part of the relationship between Jim and Doyler takes much longer to come about, and is in many ways, an anticlimax. The author leaves their love as a purer sort than most. Touching, but a bit too idealistic, in my opinion.
Doyler's naively patriotic political leanings eventually drag them all into the Irish fight for freedom. If you have already chosen a side in this long standing struggle, I doubt anything in this book will sway your opinion. And the author, Jamie O'Neill, doesn't really make a strong argument one way or the other. His focus in this book is on the characters, and their interpersonal relationships. Rightly so, I feel. Because if he placed any more emphasis on the politics, the reader would be so swamped by the details of the various political party agendas, the love story might be hopelessly lost.
ASTB was given to me two years ago. I took a crack at it then but put it down after a couple of chapters because I didn't have the time to spend with what would be a complex book. Many people have mentioned the Irish influenced prose. This frustrated me. But when I picked it up again last week, I had the time and the mindset to enjoy it and the complex language added to the experience. It did not detract at all.
However, the love story at the core of this book gets swamped by everything else going. It is enriched by a third character, McEmm who brings most of the heft to the book. His redemption is the most beautiful aspect of the book, upstaging what we learn from the boys by a huge deal. This man's transformation and discovery is what makes this book great.
But again, there are mis-steps in the second half which raise the frustration level because the outcome of the book is fairly obvious from early on.
Still, a great reading experience. I learned a lot. I was moved and often couldn't wait to get home to resume reading.
Unique and rewarding. Great literature.
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