Patrick McCabe Volgorde van de boeken

Dan Fogarty, an Irishman living in England, is looking after his sister Una, now seventy and suffering from dementia in a care home in Margate. From Dan’s anarchic account, we gradually piece together the story of the Fogarty family. How the parents are exiled from a small Irish village and end up living the hard immigrant life in England. How Dots, the mother, becomes a call girl in 1950s Soho. How a young and overweight Una finds herself living in a hippie squat in Kilburn in the early 1970s. How the squat appears to be haunted by vindictive ghosts who eat away at the sanity of all who live there.And, finally, how all that survives now of those sex-and-drug-soaked times are Una’s unspooling memories as she sits outside in the Margate sunshine, and Dan himself, whose role in the story becomes stranger and more sinister.Poguemahone is a wild, free-verse monologue, steeped in music and folklore, crammed with characters, both real and imagined, on a scale Patrick McCabe has never attempted before.

Chris McCool ist siebenundsechzig Jahre alt und so richtig zufrieden. Seine Freunde sagen, er sehe aus wie Roger Moore, und seine halb so alte, attraktive Freundin liest ihm jeden Wunsch von den Lippen ab. Sicher, als verstoßener, unehelicher Bastard einer Protestantin aus besserem Hause und einem katholischen Bauernlümmel war er für die Protestanten Katholik und für die Katholiken Protestant. Das ist durchaus ein Problem in Irland. Aber wenn er in seinem Ford Cortina durch die Straßen kreuzte, waren ihm alle Blicke sicher, die begehrlichen wie die neidischen. Doch dann waren da dieser Zwischenfall mit Ethel Baid, die geschändete katholische Kirche, die Missverständnisse mit Marcus Otoyo und die unangenehmen Geschichten aus der Irrenanstalt. In Die heilige Stadt präsentiert uns Patrick McCabe einen Erzähler, dessen Geschichte mit jeder Seite fadenscheiniger und löchriger wird. Es sind wohl kultivierte Löcher in der Erinnerung eines Mannes, der gegen die Wut, die Trauer und den Wahn anredet.

It is 1958, and as Laika, the Sputnik dog is launched into space, Golly Murray, the Cullymore barber's wife, finds herself oddly obsessing about the canine cosmonaut. Meanwhile, Fonsey 'Teddy' O'Neill, is returning, like the prodigal son, from overseas, with brylcream in his hair, and a Cuban-heeled swagger to his step, having experienced his coming-of-age in Butlin's, Skegness. Father Augustus Hand is working on a bold new theatrical production for Easter, which he, for one, knows will put Cullymore on the map. And, as the Manchester United football team prepare to take off from Munich airport, James A. Reilly sits in his hovel by the lake outside town, with his pet fox and his father's gun, feeling the weight of an insidious and inscrutable presence pressing down upon him. With echoes of Peyton Place and Fellini's Amarcord, and with a sinister, diabolical narrator at its heart, this is at once a story of a small town - with its secrets, fears, friendships and betrayals - and a sweeping, grand guignol of theatrical extravagance from one of the finest writers of his generation. From the closed terraces and back lanes of rural Ireland to the information super highway and global separations of our own, The Stray Sod Country is at once a homage to what we think we may have lost and a chilling reminder that the past has never really passed.

The intention was, of course, to bring her out to Winterwood - to that magical place that only me and her knew - but I wouldn't tell her that until much later on, for I wanted it to be as much of a surprise as possible. 'Kimono!' I remember laughing 'Kimono and Pinkie Pie! The Magic Castle, here we come!' Winterwood, a place of dreams and mystery. Once, near Dublin, Redmond was in heaven, married to the sugar-lipped Catherine, and father to lovely daughter Immy. But later, much later, Red did something. And it could all never be like that again. Winterwood, a place of escape and sanctuary. Red meets Auld Pappie Ned, a fiddler and teller of tales with honeyed words who seems the authentic spirit of 'the old valley', indeed a fiddler by nature and a man so mesmerising that Red sees himself anew, so new in fact that only a fresh name will now do as he leaves (he hopes) the demons of his past behind, the apparitions. And then one day Red spies Catherine again. And still even this is not quite enough to save his new love Casey from the man who's called Dominic Tiernan.

In a small town in Northern Ireland, in the troubling psychedelic-gone-wrong atmosphere of the late seventies, Joey Tallon embarks on a journey of selfhood, of redemption, and of rebirth. A man deranged by desire, and longing for belonging, with the words of T. S. Eliot as his guide -- "We shall not cease from exploration / And the end of all our exploring / Will be to arrive where we started / And know the place for the first time" -- Tallon searches for his "place of peace," a spiritual landscape located somewhere between Ireland and Iowa, and maybe between heaven and hell. Following the delusional, but also ultimately likable, Tallon on his quest, we unwittingly enter a world constructed by a character who is arguably more lucid during his acid trips than when he's sober. What begins as a baffling mystery in McCabe's hands becomes a raucous and ribald adventure. From Tallon's punk rock beginnings, to his stewardship of his prison's literary society, to his brief tenure as director of the Youth in Action Creative Arts Awareness Scheme, and finally to his bull-like charge into the political arena, Joey's journey toward enlightenment and deliverance takes readers into the innermost heart of a man at odds with himself and the violent, sometimes surreal world around him. Hilarious, poignant, and unpredictable, Call Me the Breeze is a literary odyssey five years in the making. It is Patrick McCabe at his absolute best.

Eine geniale Parodie auf Hitchcocks Filmklassiker „Psycho“ - die Geschichte eines traurig-komischen Serienmöders Pat McNabb ist 45, eine traurige Gestalt und lebt immer noch bei seiner Mutter - oft teilt er sogar ihr Bett oder sitzt auf ihren Knien und beide schmettern Schlager wie eine zweiköpfige Musikbox. Aber irgendwann bereitet eine schwarze Pfanne dem Leben der Mutter ein Ende und Pat muss dafür sorgen, dass die Nachbarn in der irischen Kleinstadtnichts mitbekommen. Die Lieblingslieder seiner Mutter sind für Pat aber auch weiterhin schmerzhafte Erinnerung, Handlungsanleitung und Energiespender für den Umgang mit herzlosen Krankenschwestern, gierigen Torfverkäufern und dieverschiedenen Verwendungsmöglichkeiten von Mistgabeln.

The relationship between mother and son is unique, but for 45-year-old Pat McNab, it takes a bizarre turn as he lives with his deceased mother, keeping it a secret. Amidst truly absurd moments, the story reveals a comedic structure.

You wouldn't expect to find a mature woman of twenty-eight years of age mixed up with a bunch of swingers in a small town like Barntrosna. But that's exactly what happened according to Walter Bunyan. And he should know, she was his wife. As for Declan Coyningham - there wasn't a holier boy in all of Barntrosna - you couldn't move in town without finding a bit of him in your path or under a hedge. And what exactly did come over Noreen Tiernan that made her shriek to wake the dead as she left the main street of the village in a Morris Minor all decked in pink and blue? Patrick McCabe's prose is as brilliantly macabre as ever. In scenes of disarming inventiveness, Mondo Desperado will make you howl with laughter from first unnerving page to last.

Patrick McCabe's lyrical and haunting novel became a #1 bestseller in Ireland and was nominated for the Booker Prize. With delicate insight, McCabe introduces Mr. Patrick "Pussy" Braden, a hopeful hero(ine) whose survival and quest for love drive the narrative, set against the backdrop of the troubles in Ireland. Twenty years ago, Pussy escaped her hometown of Tyreelin, leaving behind her foster mother Whiskers and her chaotic household to start anew in London. There, she navigates life in blousey tops and satin miniskirts, often risking everything in the bars of Piccadilly Circus. However, the dangers she faces extend beyond the seedy clientele; the 1970s are marked by fear in both London and Belfast, pulling Pussy into a vortex of violence and tragedy that threatens to shatter her fragile spirit. Brilliant and profound, the novel intertwines light and dark, laughter and pain, with a sensitivity that leaves a lasting impact on readers long after the final page.

`The best Irish novel of the decade' Sunday Telegraph