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lightfoxing's review against another edition
5.0
This was the most beautiful, thoughtful, and delicate exploration of love in its many forms, of aging, of the breakdown of the human body, and of our ties to humanity that I've ever read, maybe.
castlelass's review against another edition
4.0
Inventive, lyrical, poignant novel about an aging Irish poet, Thomas Murphy, battling grief, loss of memory, and a gradual decline in his mental health. We follow his non-sequential ruminations, sometimes veering into the realm of fantasy, as he reminisces about the past, comments on the present, and wonders about a tenuous future. His thoughts do not always “make sense” in terms of logic, but they reveal his mental state. Some might call him an unreliable narrator, as we do not know for sure if what he is relaying reflects reality. The language is poetic in many places, as may be expected in a book about a poet. Murphy’s relationships take a central role, including philosophizing about his daughter Máire, late wife Oona, good friend Greenberg, grandchild William, new friend Sarah, the homeless man Arthur, his neighbors, and others. He has a sharp wit, and humor is interspersed throughout.
It is a short book, and this may be a good thing as it takes a bit of brain power to follow Murphy’s thoughts. It’s not for everyone, as it has very little plot, and flits around as thoughts fly into and out of his brain, almost a stream-of-consciousness style. I found myself a bit disoriented at first, but ended up enjoying it quite a bit. It provides lots of food-for-thought on living life to its fullest. Recommended to readers of books on mental issues, and those who enjoy introspective, philosophical subject matter.
There are so many great quotes in this book, it has hard to select only a few. Here are several of my favorites (and a bit of humor):
“Bring it, Mr. Death, with your boney jaw and creepy cloak and outdated farming tools.”
“I figured you must be pretty good, he says. I could use a good poet. That’s a new one on me, I tell him. I never heard of anyone who could use a poet, good or bad.”
“The idea is to live a simple life, which is constricted and has boundaries, but to dream without limits, to have that power.”
“I should know by now, people are not to be explained or reformed.”
“In general don’t despair, and if you must, don’t force your despair on others. It’s unfair to add your despair to theirs.”
“Everyone is disabled, she said. Love exists for our disabilities.”
It is a short book, and this may be a good thing as it takes a bit of brain power to follow Murphy’s thoughts. It’s not for everyone, as it has very little plot, and flits around as thoughts fly into and out of his brain, almost a stream-of-consciousness style. I found myself a bit disoriented at first, but ended up enjoying it quite a bit. It provides lots of food-for-thought on living life to its fullest. Recommended to readers of books on mental issues, and those who enjoy introspective, philosophical subject matter.
There are so many great quotes in this book, it has hard to select only a few. Here are several of my favorites (and a bit of humor):
“Bring it, Mr. Death, with your boney jaw and creepy cloak and outdated farming tools.”
“I figured you must be pretty good, he says. I could use a good poet. That’s a new one on me, I tell him. I never heard of anyone who could use a poet, good or bad.”
“The idea is to live a simple life, which is constricted and has boundaries, but to dream without limits, to have that power.”
“I should know by now, people are not to be explained or reformed.”
“In general don’t despair, and if you must, don’t force your despair on others. It’s unfair to add your despair to theirs.”
“Everyone is disabled, she said. Love exists for our disabilities.”
penny_literaryhoarders's review
4.0
Wasn't that the most perfect gem of a book to read at just the right time? Thomas Murphy turned out to be a wee, slight book, coming in at just over 200 pages and is a little book to hold in your hands. But it is filled with awesomeness. Anyone that knows me, knows I'm a real sucker for reading about an old man that talks to, writes to and thinks about his dearly departed wife, lamenting the sadness he experiences without her. (I still think fondly about that old fart Angus in [b:The Best Laid Plans|4441294|The Best Laid Plans|Terry Fallis|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1320560918s/4441294.jpg|4489501]) This is Thomas Murphy. An aging poet, he's in his 70s and is slipping slowly into dementia. His daughter is exasperated with him in getting him to see a neurologist. With a fantastic combination of tenderness and sardonic wit, I was charmed to no end by Murph. There were times when he had me laughing out loud, laughing so hard, my shoulders were shaking and his moments of great tenderness and appreciation for the moments he remembered in his life all made for wonderful reading.
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