Like a hand on the shoulder
EVEN in death, John McGahern remains Ireland’s greatest living writer. A strange thing to say, perhaps, but then, as an author known for decade-long silences, it does not feel as if he has truly left us. We might have expected a new novel from him by now if he were still alive but, in place of that, comes this reminder that he is in fact gone. It provokes sadness, yes, but also gratitude for the powerful work which he gifted us in the time available to him.
Famously, McGahern believed that Ireland was less a coherent state than a mosaic of “little republics called families”. Something similar can be said of his Collected Stories.
