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A review by sarahtribble
Trespasses by Louise Kennedy
Women's Prize for Fiction shortlist 2023
I enjoyed this, although not quite as much as I was hoping to, nor as much as I was expecting to when I first started the book. I find the Troubles to be a really interesting piece of 20th century history that I didn't quite understand prior to reading this (the two 'sides' were named after religions, Catholicism and Protestantism, yet it wasn't a religious conflict... tell me why), and so I took Trespasses as an opportunity to do some research (i.e. watch a couple of video essays) to try and improve my understanding of the conflict. I'm glad I did this, because I was feeling pretty lost on the gist of the whole book until I did. It was a lot easier to understand the depth to the divide between Cushla and Michael once I understood better what 'sides' of the conflict they were on. I don't think it's entirely to the book's detriment that I required an understanding of the Troubles in order to fully 'get it', given that I wanted to learn more about the Troubles anyway because I love Derry Girls lol, but it did slightly reduce my enjoyment of the book.
The thing I admired most about Trespasses is how seamlessly it integrated the conflict of the Troubles into the love story around which the book is based. Derry Girls does this, too: the Troubles are present, but they have a background presence, and what we really see is how life goes on through and despite violent conflict. A device Kennedy uses to illustrate this is the absence of speech marks bookending any of her dialogue. Usually I hate it when books don't use speech marks because it makes everything take on a bit of a dreamlike, stream-of-consciousness quality that I find difficult to follow and connect with, but I had to admire its deployment here. Everything slips together and becomes a little bit indistinct, preventing the conflict from dominating the story over the romance, which of course is Cushla's main priority — 24-year-old Catholic primary school teacher, she finds herself falling head first into an illicit affair with a Protestant barrister who is double her age and married with a teenage son. I love how everything slipping together really emphasises how ordinary people were caught in the crossfire of the conflict, and yes, I did borrow that line from a Guardian review, sue me.
The big plot twist about 80% of the way in was where things got really good for me. I've had that happen before with books, where the final 20% makes up for the rest not being as strong to me — Shuggie Bain is a good example of this — and I found it really easy to fly through those last 60 or so pages because I got really invested in Cushla's development and internal journey, and the way the surrounding plot elements resolved and concluded. The big plot twist happens so randomly and with such a careful lack of preamble that I gasped out loud when it happened, causing Luke to think something extremely bad had happened lol when really the book had just managed to do something I wasn't at all expecting. I really admired it for that, this shocking juxtaposition of the everyday, casual violence of the Troubles with something really dramatic and serious to bring the conflict out of its background position and into sharp, shocking focus. Again, Derry Girls does this really well too, especially in its season finales — like in season one, juxtaposing the titular girls joyfully dancing on stage at school with Erin's parents at home, horrified as they stand before the TV set watching a newscast about a fatal bombing. It worked really well here, and made me respect and appreciate the book a lot more.
Far and away my favourite relationship in the novel was the friendship that develops between Cushla and one of her students, a little Protestant boy named Davy McGeown. It's one of two key relationships in the book, the other being between Cushla and her lover Michael, and it acts as an interesting contrasting viewpoint of the conflict — Cushla and Michael are two adults who both know a life without the Troubles, whereas Davy, only seven years old, has never known an Ireland without the two diametrically opposed parties. His vocabulary is already replete with wartime jargon that he rattles off in class without a second thought, much to Cushla's discomfort, but he brings an innocence and sweetness to the book that really underscores the mindlessness of the violence. Their friendship is a set of parentheses around the rest of the story, and I just loved how it was used both to develop Cushla's character and show moments where Catholicism and Protestantism aside, it is universal to be human and to be kind.
So, yeah. I wanted to enjoy this more than I did, but I certainly admired and appreciated it nonetheless.
I enjoyed this, although not quite as much as I was hoping to, nor as much as I was expecting to when I first started the book. I find the Troubles to be a really interesting piece of 20th century history that I didn't quite understand prior to reading this (the two 'sides' were named after religions, Catholicism and Protestantism, yet it wasn't a religious conflict... tell me why), and so I took Trespasses as an opportunity to do some research (i.e. watch a couple of video essays) to try and improve my understanding of the conflict. I'm glad I did this, because I was feeling pretty lost on the gist of the whole book until I did. It was a lot easier to understand the depth to the divide between Cushla and Michael once I understood better what 'sides' of the conflict they were on. I don't think it's entirely to the book's detriment that I required an understanding of the Troubles in order to fully 'get it', given that I wanted to learn more about the Troubles anyway because I love Derry Girls lol, but it did slightly reduce my enjoyment of the book.
The thing I admired most about Trespasses is how seamlessly it integrated the conflict of the Troubles into the love story around which the book is based. Derry Girls does this, too: the Troubles are present, but they have a background presence, and what we really see is how life goes on through and despite violent conflict. A device Kennedy uses to illustrate this is the absence of speech marks bookending any of her dialogue. Usually I hate it when books don't use speech marks because it makes everything take on a bit of a dreamlike, stream-of-consciousness quality that I find difficult to follow and connect with, but I had to admire its deployment here. Everything slips together and becomes a little bit indistinct, preventing the conflict from dominating the story over the romance, which of course is Cushla's main priority — 24-year-old Catholic primary school teacher, she finds herself falling head first into an illicit affair with a Protestant barrister who is double her age and married with a teenage son. I love how everything slipping together really emphasises how ordinary people were caught in the crossfire of the conflict, and yes, I did borrow that line from a Guardian review, sue me.
The big plot twist about 80% of the way in was where things got really good for me. I've had that happen before with books, where the final 20% makes up for the rest not being as strong to me — Shuggie Bain is a good example of this — and I found it really easy to fly through those last 60 or so pages because I got really invested in Cushla's development and internal journey, and the way the surrounding plot elements resolved and concluded. The big plot twist happens so randomly and with such a careful lack of preamble that I gasped out loud when it happened, causing Luke to think something extremely bad had happened lol when really the book had just managed to do something I wasn't at all expecting. I really admired it for that, this shocking juxtaposition of the everyday, casual violence of the Troubles with something really dramatic and serious to bring the conflict out of its background position and into sharp, shocking focus. Again, Derry Girls does this really well too, especially in its season finales — like in season one, juxtaposing the titular girls joyfully dancing on stage at school with Erin's parents at home, horrified as they stand before the TV set watching a newscast about a fatal bombing. It worked really well here, and made me respect and appreciate the book a lot more.
Far and away my favourite relationship in the novel was the friendship that develops between Cushla and one of her students, a little Protestant boy named Davy McGeown. It's one of two key relationships in the book, the other being between Cushla and her lover Michael, and it acts as an interesting contrasting viewpoint of the conflict — Cushla and Michael are two adults who both know a life without the Troubles, whereas Davy, only seven years old, has never known an Ireland without the two diametrically opposed parties. His vocabulary is already replete with wartime jargon that he rattles off in class without a second thought, much to Cushla's discomfort, but he brings an innocence and sweetness to the book that really underscores the mindlessness of the violence. Their friendship is a set of parentheses around the rest of the story, and I just loved how it was used both to develop Cushla's character and show moments where Catholicism and Protestantism aside, it is universal to be human and to be kind.
So, yeah. I wanted to enjoy this more than I did, but I certainly admired and appreciated it nonetheless.