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pinksy's review
2.0
This wasn’t great but it certainly made me think about sharing our life story at the end, addressing things and putting them to rest before we say goodbye.
margaret21's review
4.0
It's 1975, and Spanish civil war veteran and poet Francis McNulty is living in slightly decaying gentility in a house in - yes, Cleaver Square. His civil servant daughter Gilly, his housekeeper Dolores López, whom he rescued during the war when she was only eight live with him too. As does, increasingly often, the spectre of General Franco in full uniform. Well, Francis drinks, he's getting on a bit too, so these unpleasant visitations aren't taken too seriously by anyone else, though maybe Dolores sees them too? His sister Finty, who lives in Mull and Gilly's fiance all rally round, and we come to understand that Francis woes are compounded by his guilt over certain events in the war - he gradually reveals the story of this part of his life to Guardian reporter Hugh Supple. McGrath paints a portrait of cantankerous, frail but stubborn, and thoroughly unreliable narrator Francis, and indeed of aspects of the Civil War, and rounds the story out to a satisfying conclusion.
burrowsi1's review
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
fictionfan's review against another edition
5.0
The ghosts of war…
Francis McNulty is an old man now, in 1975, but his younger self was one of the many men who had gone to aid the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, in his case as a medic. Now he is frail, although he hates the word, and showing signs of mental decline, perhaps even the beginnings of dementia. So when he starts seeing visions of General Franco at first in his garden and then later inside his house, his daughter puts it down to his mental state. Francis is convinced though that Franco, currently on his deathbed in Spain, is haunting him, and his memories of his time in Spain and the horrors he witnessed there are brought back afresh to his mind.
Told as Francis’ journal in a somewhat disjointed and rambling fashion as befits an elderly, possibly confused man, this is a wonderful picture of someone haunted by his experiences in the Spanish Civil War. Prior to reading this I had just finished a biography of Franco, the last chapter of which detailed his long-drawn out and rather horrific final days as his body crumbled and haemorrhaged and his doctors refused to allow him to die. It is during those days that Francis, in his home in England, gradually reveals his experiences and finally the incident that has left him with a feeling of guilt all the years since. His hatred of Franco is visceral, his view entirely polarised by the atrocities he witnessed, although there are occasional hints that he is aware that there were atrocities on the Republican side too. We learn of Doc Roscoe, the doctor he worked alongside patching up the wounded under atrocious conditions. We hear the story of Dolores Lopez, now Francis’ middle-aged housekeeper, but back then a child caught up in the siege of Madrid. And we come to understand the haunting, literal and metaphorical, of Francis by his old nemesis, Franco.
But this is not purely or even mostly a political novel. The story Francis reveals is a human one, of unexpected love and loyalty, of betrayal and the search for redemption and forgiveness. Did it make me cry? You betcha! But it also made me laugh, frequently, as Francis gives his often acerbic view of those around him, including his daughter and sister, both of whom he loves dearly but not uncritically. It’s also a wonderful depiction of ageing, with all the pathos of declining physical and mental faculties. There are many parallels between Franco and Francis, not least their names, of course, but their habit in their final days of finding themselves in tears. They each have only one daughter, caring for them at the end of their lives simply as fathers regardless of their past or politics. Francis’ daughter is as well portrayed as Francis himself, as she tries to deal with this difficult, contrary, opinionated man who refuses to accept his increasing limitations. She ranges through patience, worry, irritation, bossiness, and all the other emotions anyone who has cared for an elderly relative will recognise, but there is never any doubt in either the reader’s or Francis’ mind that her overriding emotion towards her father is love.
It’s a short novel, but has so much in it – truly a case where every word counts. Francis, writing privately in his journal, reveals more to the reader than he ever has to those closest to him, especially of his feelings for Doc Roscoe and for other men he has known over the years. Again a beautiful depiction of closeted homosexuality – Francis has chosen the easier path at that period of outwardly leading a heterosexual life. Yet one feels his relationship with his daughter is a major compensation for his lifetime of self-denial. And he is self-aware enough to gently mock himself so that one feels his life has not been a wasteland, although it is only now, as he faces his last days and recognises that his eternal enemy Franco is facing his, that he can finally try to come to terms with his past.
Why have I never come across Patrick McGrath before? A serious omission which I will have to promptly put right. Beautifully written, entertaining, moving, full of emotional truth – this gets my highest recommendation.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Random House Cornerstone.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
Francis McNulty is an old man now, in 1975, but his younger self was one of the many men who had gone to aid the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, in his case as a medic. Now he is frail, although he hates the word, and showing signs of mental decline, perhaps even the beginnings of dementia. So when he starts seeing visions of General Franco at first in his garden and then later inside his house, his daughter puts it down to his mental state. Francis is convinced though that Franco, currently on his deathbed in Spain, is haunting him, and his memories of his time in Spain and the horrors he witnessed there are brought back afresh to his mind.
Told as Francis’ journal in a somewhat disjointed and rambling fashion as befits an elderly, possibly confused man, this is a wonderful picture of someone haunted by his experiences in the Spanish Civil War. Prior to reading this I had just finished a biography of Franco, the last chapter of which detailed his long-drawn out and rather horrific final days as his body crumbled and haemorrhaged and his doctors refused to allow him to die. It is during those days that Francis, in his home in England, gradually reveals his experiences and finally the incident that has left him with a feeling of guilt all the years since. His hatred of Franco is visceral, his view entirely polarised by the atrocities he witnessed, although there are occasional hints that he is aware that there were atrocities on the Republican side too. We learn of Doc Roscoe, the doctor he worked alongside patching up the wounded under atrocious conditions. We hear the story of Dolores Lopez, now Francis’ middle-aged housekeeper, but back then a child caught up in the siege of Madrid. And we come to understand the haunting, literal and metaphorical, of Francis by his old nemesis, Franco.
But this is not purely or even mostly a political novel. The story Francis reveals is a human one, of unexpected love and loyalty, of betrayal and the search for redemption and forgiveness. Did it make me cry? You betcha! But it also made me laugh, frequently, as Francis gives his often acerbic view of those around him, including his daughter and sister, both of whom he loves dearly but not uncritically. It’s also a wonderful depiction of ageing, with all the pathos of declining physical and mental faculties. There are many parallels between Franco and Francis, not least their names, of course, but their habit in their final days of finding themselves in tears. They each have only one daughter, caring for them at the end of their lives simply as fathers regardless of their past or politics. Francis’ daughter is as well portrayed as Francis himself, as she tries to deal with this difficult, contrary, opinionated man who refuses to accept his increasing limitations. She ranges through patience, worry, irritation, bossiness, and all the other emotions anyone who has cared for an elderly relative will recognise, but there is never any doubt in either the reader’s or Francis’ mind that her overriding emotion towards her father is love.
It’s a short novel, but has so much in it – truly a case where every word counts. Francis, writing privately in his journal, reveals more to the reader than he ever has to those closest to him, especially of his feelings for Doc Roscoe and for other men he has known over the years. Again a beautiful depiction of closeted homosexuality – Francis has chosen the easier path at that period of outwardly leading a heterosexual life. Yet one feels his relationship with his daughter is a major compensation for his lifetime of self-denial. And he is self-aware enough to gently mock himself so that one feels his life has not been a wasteland, although it is only now, as he faces his last days and recognises that his eternal enemy Franco is facing his, that he can finally try to come to terms with his past.
Why have I never come across Patrick McGrath before? A serious omission which I will have to promptly put right. Beautifully written, entertaining, moving, full of emotional truth – this gets my highest recommendation.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Random House Cornerstone.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
bookswithajew's review
dark
emotional
mysterious
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
tjb73's review
adventurous
mysterious
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.0
crisppacket's review
4.0
Aged poet veteran man faces his demons from the war as he nears death.
More of a 3.5 than a 4, something about the writing style didn't compel me to give each word as much reverence reverence as I might another book. Not so bad in that it translates to a light and relatively short read.
Call me juvenile, particular pleasure gotten from final/first p. of Pg. 185/6.
Themes: aging, memory, guilt, pride.
More of a 3.5 than a 4, something about the writing style didn't compel me to give each word as much reverence reverence as I might another book. Not so bad in that it translates to a light and relatively short read.
Call me juvenile, particular pleasure gotten from final/first p. of Pg. 185/6.
Themes: aging, memory, guilt, pride.
numbersladyreads's review
5.0
‘I did it for Doc, whom I'd grievously betrayed, and about whom my guilt is a mordant canker which has gnawed at my innards for more years than I can remember, and this I only confess to you now, having deceived you as to my true condition, and pretended a soundness of mind and spirit which I frankly do not possess.'
There is no deception; we know that our dear narrator is unreliable, we do not know what is real or what is imagined, what is history or what is exaggerated - but that is part of the point I think, who of us can ever be entirely reliable?
Francis Mcnulty is coming to the end of his life, he fought in the Spanish Civil War and spent the years afterwards as a successful poet. He lives with his only daughter Gilly in his childhood home on Cleaver Square, but things are starting to move on; Gilly is engaged to be married and Francis is feeling his own mortality. He is visited regularly by a ghoul, an apparition, who Francis is convinced is General Franco who himself is close to death in Spain
Told, almost as a series of diary entries, Patrick McGrath's language is elegant and poetic yet it retains a breathtaking precision. Quoted as having the ability to expose our darkest fears without making us run away from them, he has the power to beguile his reader in a way that you are swept away and will happily follow wherever he takes you. And he takes you to the darkest of corners; the secret that has haunted for most of your life, the realisation that you cannot stop the passage of time; the inevitable end, but in a way that brings a quiet acceptance, a sense of calm. There is a humour in his writing, a smile, an encouraged chuckle and even actual laughter - his nuanced prose leaves you with a new friend, you care about Francis, he matters.
'For oh dear, it is a spartan business, this growing old, this cleaving to life, because it demands that you jettison so much that once had been the very zest and pith of life, and why? So that life, pithless, and sans zest, may continue, and the flesh, oh, the flesh, the sins of the flesh - they are as motes in a fading sunbeam. And how I do miss them. Yes.'
Dear, dear Francis McNulty will follow me and I will think of him, in the way that you do a cherished grandparent - the best of relatives; those frustrating, cantankerous humans, full of vigour and spirit. This novel tackles dark and difficult subject matter, but it left with the overriding feeling that aging is a privilege and an honour and above all something to embrace and kick the hell out of!
Thanks to #netgalley and #hutchinson for allowing me to read this ARC in return for an honest review.
There is no deception; we know that our dear narrator is unreliable, we do not know what is real or what is imagined, what is history or what is exaggerated - but that is part of the point I think, who of us can ever be entirely reliable?
Francis Mcnulty is coming to the end of his life, he fought in the Spanish Civil War and spent the years afterwards as a successful poet. He lives with his only daughter Gilly in his childhood home on Cleaver Square, but things are starting to move on; Gilly is engaged to be married and Francis is feeling his own mortality. He is visited regularly by a ghoul, an apparition, who Francis is convinced is General Franco who himself is close to death in Spain
Told, almost as a series of diary entries, Patrick McGrath's language is elegant and poetic yet it retains a breathtaking precision. Quoted as having the ability to expose our darkest fears without making us run away from them, he has the power to beguile his reader in a way that you are swept away and will happily follow wherever he takes you. And he takes you to the darkest of corners; the secret that has haunted for most of your life, the realisation that you cannot stop the passage of time; the inevitable end, but in a way that brings a quiet acceptance, a sense of calm. There is a humour in his writing, a smile, an encouraged chuckle and even actual laughter - his nuanced prose leaves you with a new friend, you care about Francis, he matters.
'For oh dear, it is a spartan business, this growing old, this cleaving to life, because it demands that you jettison so much that once had been the very zest and pith of life, and why? So that life, pithless, and sans zest, may continue, and the flesh, oh, the flesh, the sins of the flesh - they are as motes in a fading sunbeam. And how I do miss them. Yes.'
Dear, dear Francis McNulty will follow me and I will think of him, in the way that you do a cherished grandparent - the best of relatives; those frustrating, cantankerous humans, full of vigour and spirit. This novel tackles dark and difficult subject matter, but it left with the overriding feeling that aging is a privilege and an honour and above all something to embrace and kick the hell out of!
Thanks to #netgalley and #hutchinson for allowing me to read this ARC in return for an honest review.
emmy_and_books's review
4.0
“I remember what I would remind the reader. I would remind the reader that I went to Spain in 1936, where I drove an ambulance during the siege of Madrid and elsewhere. I have married a number of women (two), loved a number of – other people – (twenty-two), written a number of slim volumes of modern Romantic poetry published by reputable small presses like Hyperbole, and sustained this old house in Cleaver Square where I have raised a fine garden (now dying), and also a daughter. And when I wish to go to the West End alone at night, to attend, let us say, a concert of classical music, Schubert perhaps, Death and the Maiden – I go. So let there be no more of this clucking and wheedling. Oh, Pa, are you sure? Or: Oh, Francis, is this really a good idea? Let me be clear. I am always sure, and it is always a good idea.”
Genre – Era and Place / Age / Feeling / Key words / Should you? / Rating
==============================
Fiction – 1975 UK / Adult / unusual writing style that works so well in this book with the unreliable character, haunting, atmospheric, intelligent, funny, interesting / old man Francis McNulty is living in London with his daughter and a women he rescued when she was a young girl in Spain in the middle of war, he is haunted by the war and its terrors, seeing an apparition of General Franco in his back yard and in his house, Francis is smart, funny, stubborn, eccentric, old fashioned / absolutely (I probably wouldn’t hear about this book had it not been sent to me by the publisher and I’m so very glad it was) / ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Genre – Era and Place / Age / Feeling / Key words / Should you? / Rating
==============================
Fiction – 1975 UK / Adult / unusual writing style that works so well in this book with the unreliable character, haunting, atmospheric, intelligent, funny, interesting / old man Francis McNulty is living in London with his daughter and a women he rescued when she was a young girl in Spain in the middle of war, he is haunted by the war and its terrors, seeing an apparition of General Franco in his back yard and in his house, Francis is smart, funny, stubborn, eccentric, old fashioned / absolutely (I probably wouldn’t hear about this book had it not been sent to me by the publisher and I’m so very glad it was) / ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️