Sorry. We should have reported on the new Roddy Doyle which we finished last weekend, but we got distracted by the long holiday weekend, which involved a trip to Another State. The Dead Republic made it safely back, tucked away in the boot with the stash from the walkable Trader Joe’s – really, why haven’t any of you joined in our campaign to pry the local Trader Joe’s from the undeserving Kenwood to a far more politically and ecologically correct central location? – and you must surely want to know what we thought of it, having been as we publicly were much taken with A Star Called Henry when that came out, and being a big fan of The Commitments, and thinking Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha possibly the best book title of the nineties. Hmmm. Well, you know, as the agents say, we didn’t love it. We did sort of love the deconstruction of The Quiet Man that is maybe the first third of the book, and we’re all for anything that de-mythologizes Ireland, but we do not believe that an agent picking up The Dead Republic without knowing who Roddy Doyle was would have gone to bat for it given a plot that hangs ultimately and confusingly on Henry Smart and his lady wife in their tenth and eleventh decades. Perhaps we well have a better reaction in a decade or two.
The Maths Whiz is continuing through the Canon Crawl at an astonishing clip, blogging away cleverly enough that we want to stop everything else we are doing to see if we can catch up with her. But we have to set up chairs for David Simon. Damn.