Keith Ridgway's latest novel, Dooneen, delves into ambivalence with both mischief and menace. The epigraph, from a ballad about the Cliffs of Dooneen, is footnoted to note that debate continues over whether the cliffs exist at all, setting the tone for a narrative where place and knowledge are unstable.
A Strange Homecoming
Bartholomew Port, known as Mew, leaves his partner Mootie in south London to return to his birthplace, Dublin. In an Alice in Wonderland-style twist, he travels not by air or sea but by slipping through bushes in Camberwell's Burgess Park. The Dublin he finds is uncanny, a city that "can turn on you in an instant." Familiar streets are marred by sudden apparitions, portentous children at windows, and enigmatic passersby in vivid yellow. Mew's dislocation questions what happens to home when we leave and return, both in reality and imagination. The narrative is further destabilized as Mew relates events from a future exile, the circumstances of which remain unclear until the end.
Social Unrest and Political Turmoil
Like Paul Lynch's Prophet Song, this is an Ireland trembling with nascent social unrest. A musical number by bellboys at Mew's hotel reveals a growing schism between landlords and tenants. Change is in the air; masses are mobilizing in Dublin and globally. An old friend, Dinny, whispers of activism and political assassinations, but cannot say too much, characterizing the tense historical moment as one where "weird items abound. Strange things. Strange times. Dark times."
Underground Resistance
Darkness, both real and symbolic, pervades the novel's central section, where Mew joins an underground protest movement laying siege to Garda headquarters. He spends a night in murky tunnels beneath the city, where "acoustics swam and tumbled and bobbed." The storytelling becomes polyphonic, shifting from Mew's confusion to Beckettian monologues and Joycean declamations from radicals and revolutionaries. These elliptical sections offer concentrated wisdom on Ireland's history of thwarted resistance, the role of imagination in politics, and the nature of time.
Ambivalence and Comedy
Ridgway's strategy of reproducing ambivalence risks alienating readers, but the linguistic energy and variety sustain the journey through shadows. There is slapstick comedy: digressions about split trousers, disquisitions on making a crisp sandwich, and scheming military horses. The most affecting element is Mew's longing for Mootie. Amid political turmoil, the desire for human connection transcends everything. Mew reflects: "Perhaps I died before I met you and you were only a dream. You, Mootie. A figment. Did I make you up? Your tall laughing body in the evening light... You were real. I can taste you still."
Dooneen by Keith Ridgway is published by Fitzcarraldo (£14.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
