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Six Degrees of Separation - November 21

Inspired by Kate over at Books are my favourite and best I’m going to attempt my first ever six degrees of separation. The idea is that Kate chooses a book to use as a starting point and then we have to link it to six other books of our choice to form a chain. A book doesn’t have to be connected to all of the others on the list – only to the one next to it in the chain. Ok, I’m going to give it a lash. The chosen book this month is What you are going through by Sigrid Nunez.

I have not read this book but I continue to hear good things about Sigrid Nunez and she is very much on my list of authors TBE (To Be Explored). In the blurb for this book, it seems to be about a woman who encounters a variety of people, each of whom feels the need to talk about themselves and the woman finds herself being a passive listener. Listening is something I am reading about in another book at the momment…..

…..that I am enjoying and have reviewed here. The author has spent a lifetime working in medicine and psychology and offers up powerful lessons on the how to listen effectively, improve conversations and how to be there at those times when someone really needs an ear. Continuing on this theme of listening, I read and reviewed another book recently called….

Listening to Bob Dylan by Larry Starr. Another one added to my collection as you can see from above, this book takes a slightly different approach in that it focuses on the music - phrasing, composition, his various voices, and as a live performer. On Dylan’s most recent album, Rough and Rowdy ways, the first track is called ‘I contain multitudes.’ It starts off with

Today and tomorrow, and yesterday, too
The flowers are dyin' like all things do
Follow me close, I'm going to
Balinalee
I'll lose my mind if you don't come with me
I fuss with my hair, and I fight blood feuds
I contain multitudes

The reference to Balinalee was a strange one. It’s a small town in Longford, Ireland. Why is Dylan referencing it? For a man with an encyclopaedic knowledge of music, there had to be some reason. Some online sleuthing found the nineteenth century, Irish-language poet Antoine Ó Raifteir, had a poem called ‘The lass from Ballinalee’

On my way to Mass
To say a prayer,
The wind was high
Sowing rain,

I met a maid
With wind-wild hair
And madly fell
In love again.

I spoke with learning,
Charm and pride
And, as was fitting,
Answered she:

‘My mind is now
well satisfied,
So walk with me
To Bally-na-Lee.’

Given the offer,
I didn’t delay,
And blowing a laugh
At this willing young lass,

I swung with her over
The fields through the day
Till shortly we reached
The rump of the house.

A table with glasses
And drink was set
And then says the lassie,
Turning to me:

‘You are welcome, Raftery,
So drink a wet
To love’s demands
In Bally-na-Lee.’

Who could possibly have told Dylan about this poet, blinded as a child by Smallpox? Well, it seems a number of years back Dylan spent an evening in deep conversation with a fellow musical genius also with a mountain of knowledge of Irish poets and music - our very own Bard of Tipperary, Shane Macgown. Which leads me to….

….which I have just finished (review here). It’s a fascinating read of someone who is an incredibly intelligent, literate and genius songwriter. One of Macgowans own iconoclastic literary heroes was the poet, short story writer, playwright, republican, raconteur, rebel…

….Brendan Behan. The colourful Dubliner recounts his life in the book above, including his time in Mountjoy jail, where he wrote ‘The Auld Triangle’ which has also been performed by the Pogues. (edit: Just found he didn’t write this song, but he made it famous - it was written by his friend, Dick Shannon). In his later years, Behan was a fixture in the pubs of Dublin, where he often bumped into another literary heavyweight, and it was said there was a mutual loathing between the two. That is none other than the poet from the stony, grey soil of Monaghan….

…Patrick Kavanagh. He’s certainly a rough, uncouth sort of a cratur but is one of my favourite poets, raised as I was only a few miles up the road from him. I have read this book and will contribute a review at a later date. (There’s also a fine play about Kavanagh, Behan and Flann O’Brien called ‘The rare ‘oil times’ which is good craic).

*edit - just realised I have to link to six books.. Ok, one more - Patrick Kavanagh, a Monaghan to man, to….



Patrick McCabe, another Monaghan man from just up the road in Clones. I had butcher connected with borstal boy from earlier, but I got it in eventually. An Irish classic, this is a blackly comic, breathless tale of a descent into madness in a small Irish border town. Should have won the booker and knowing this was released in 1992 makes me feel very old indeed.

That was a bit of craic! Will look forward to this again next month.