Roddy Doyle has spent four decades playing with Irish-English, a dialect that in its contemporary incarnation absorbs pop song lyrics, Internet speak, and television. His novels contain very little information on his character’s physical appearances. The reader draws an outline of Doyle’s heroes based on one or two details, the humor of their spoken words and the rhythm of their interior monologues, which probably sound more lilting to the American than to the Irish ear.
In the opening pages of Doyle’s new novel The Guts, we learn that Jimmy Rabbitte, Jr., the soul-band promoter from the ’80s classic The Commitments, is now 47, losing hair, gaining weight, and facing a cancer diagnosis. This is Doyle’s fourth novel about the Rabbitte family. The previous three — The Commitments, The Snapper, and The Van — form The Barrytown Trilogy. (Stephen Frears adapted the latter two. Alan Parker’s adaptation of The Commitments became a VHS gem.) In some ways The Guts is better paired with Doyle’s Paula Spencer, a sequel itself to his 1995 novel The Woman Who Walked Into Doors, a brutal depiction of domestic abuse. Like Paula Spencer, The Guts is a story about facing the mixed blessings of middle age in the Irish section of the eurozone.
The Millions: I think we as readers have an image from The Commitments of Jimmy Rabbitte, Jr. as this vital figure, forever young. He doesn’t get old and he doesn’t die. Why do you wish to disillusion us?
Roddy Doyle: Well, it never occurred to me that that was the case, to be honest with you. I couldn’t care less really if I’ve disillusioned you. It is within your gift not to read the book. So really, it didn’t give me the minimum pause for thought.
It was just a good creative decision, I think, the same way that bringing back Paula Spencer 10 years after The Woman Who Walked Into Doors [in Paula Spencer] was, which had never been a plan of mine at the time. The Irish economy picked up so much after those 10 years. So I followed her and used her as a guide through the story. [That said] I didn’t want to write about the economy. I wanted to write about her.
This time [with The Guts], the Irish economy collapsed. I wrote The Commitments at a time of economic recession or depression. And I wanted to see how Jimmy would be getting on now and how the other characters would be getting on now.
As for the poor old readers and moviegoers: There are so many ways to disillusion people. It’s endless. People ask me if there’s life beyond the book and there isn’t. They ask me questions and the outside worlds don’t exist. I’m probably disillusioned by telling them that. But then again, what can you do?
TM: I’ve heard you say before that the child born in The Snapper is an extremely lucky child because he’s born into an extremely loving home. The family with whom Jimmy grew up is not unhappy, but the members of it are now very distant from one another.
RD: They’re geographically not-distant from one another.
TM: They’re emotionally distant.
RD: I don’t know. You mean, with his siblings? Well, there are a lot of them for a start. And in Ireland you got a lot of families that live in one another’s ears, which isn’t particularly healthy either: one person dictating what the rest of them do. I’ve seen examples of that. And Jimmy is relatively close to his brother Darren and that means regular phone calls or whatever. And his sisters are elsewhere. But there is a sense that if needed they’re there. And they live independent lives.
So certainly, yes, it’s not the depiction of an Italian family around the table every Sunday.
TM: It’s more than that.
RD: You think?
TM: I think there’s a certain melancholy many people realize in their relationships with their siblings as they get older. They find they have less in common than they had when they were children.
RD: Well that’s inevitable.
TM: You say it’s inevitable, but that inevitability is part of the melancholy that exists in this book.
RD: It’s there to be read if you see it there. The circumstances are different as well. There is a health scare in the family with Jimmy. I think if one of the parents was hospitalized or something like that, all the siblings would rally around pretty quickly. So that’s there, though they’ve gone their separate ways.
But I don’t see it at all that way. If you interpret it that way, grand. It’s grand. I like it when people interpret things differently. You’re an active part of the process. So that’s grand.
TM: You have a certain amount of comfort in your career that Jimmy doesn’t have. How do you get inside characters who [get to middle age] and aren’t as satisfied with their careers?
RD: Well, the question is built on a lot of assumptions that may not be true. Yeah I’ve enjoyed a large degree of success. But actually, in day-to-day living it means nothing to me. I’m not worried about the immediate financial future in the same way Jimmy is likely to be. Not so long ago, I was. Not to the same degree perhaps, but I would have been. I’m no stranger to the anxieties of any middle-aged man who happens to be a parent, who happens to work for a living and worries, for example, about the future of the book industry. And sends off a book and it’s rejected. Pours over a short story for months and then it’s turned down. I’m well acquainted with disappointment as well, not to the same degree as people in other occupations. If we were to take that angle in a literary sense, that one should write about what one knows, I’m only going to write about relatively successful novelists for the rest of my life. Perhaps some time in the future that might make sense. But now, no. It doesn’t at all.
My day-to-day life is about getting up and sending my one remaining schoolchild to school, probably emptying the washing machine, going upstairs to work, coming down for a cup of coffee and then going back up to work, trying to make several deadlines that I have to meet. The work is probably rewarding more financially than a lot of people who are being paid. But the average doctor or dentist in Ireland exceeds my income quite handsomely. With the fluctuations I might have a very big year and then a non-existent year depending on what I’m publishing and what I’m involved with. I do enjoy a pure form of self-employment, but I also live with the anxieties of self-employment.
There are elements here that everyone has in their life. And remember that I’m a novelist. I make these things up.
TM: I know you make it up. I just want to know how you get inside it.
RD: Like I said. I share a lot of these opinions.
TM: But I’m not even asking about financial issues.
RD: I know. But you see you’re absolutely not qualified to ask me this question because you know absolutely nothing about my personal life. You haven’t a clue. And I don’t mean that aggressively, but you haven’t a clue. (laughs). Sure you don’t.
TM: Well how about if I ask this in a slightly different way.
RD: Fire away. And I’m not at all angry. It’s just past you because you have no notion about my life.
TM: Jimmy has a certain amount of anxiety not so much about money but about whether or not he’s as good as he wants to be at what he does. Do you share that anxiety?
RD: Yes. On occasions, no. On occasions, yes. Starting off a piece of work, I feel like the king of the world. Halfway through the piece of work, I feel like a gibbering idiot. Sometimes it seems to glow, the piece of work. Sometimes it just feels like rubbish. I did write a book for children quite recently and it was turned down by my damn publisher. And that’s like a slap across the face. And that’s no harm. It’s part of the job. But it did give me pause for thought because I did have six books published by these people and they were all successful. As much as anything else it was annoying. And as much as anything else it hammered home the future of the precariousness of the writer. And I’m lucky in most cases in that here and in the UK I’ve had the same publisher for a long long time. But will that stop when the current people I deal with retire? Probably is the answer to that. Well what the fuck will I do then? What will they do when they read the figures and realize no one reads books by middle-aged men?
TM: It’s striking to go to Ireland today and hear Russian spoken on the streets and to hear second-generation African immigrants speaking with Irish accents. Do you sense that the Irish-English language has changed since you started your career?
RD: English as it’s spoken in Ireland? Yes.
I worked on the script of a musical based on The Commitments. It opened on the West End last September. And I wasn’t going to do the job myself, but I did and I had to read The Commitments again. And I hadn’t read it in 25 years or something like that. And one of things that fascinated me was that I had been anticipating the absence of certain sentences in that book, things that I thought were relatively modern. [But those things] were in the book. I don’t mean that I was ahead of my time. I just mean that people spoke like that back then. But they were little quirks that I thought [wrongly] had shown up in the ’90s or whatever the last decade was called.
I don’t know what changes have come from Eastern Europeans and Africans coming to Dublin. But I am aware of Eastern Europeans and Africans coming here and hearing certain colloquialisms and then taking them in and making them into things that are brilliant. If you’re buying something from an Eastern European behind a counter, she might say, “Is it grand?” You never heard that before. “Grand” was never a question. It was always “It’s grand,” “Everything’s grand.” But here she’s asking, “Is it grand?” So that was a new one on me. I’d never heard that before. So I think in the same way that the Irish people brought their Gaelic grammar into English, [the new immigrants] are bringing their own grammar into English.
TM: Have you considered writing a novel from the perspective of the new Irish?
RD: I’ve written several short stories from that perspective. But that’s a hole in the water, so to speak. Would I consider writing an entire novel? I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility. I’d be loathe to jump into it because it would be a huge endeavor. Writing any novel is a huge endeavor. The initial decision is always a bit flippant. I’d be starting my eleventh now sometime this year. At least now I go in with the knowledge that it’s going to be a pain in the arse but that at this time next year there will be all these things that I know. So to invest all that time and the emotional energy — really the confidence — the confidence that I can carry a whole novel from the point of view of one of the new Irish…It would be a big decision to make and maybe a right decision to make. I doubt very much that it would be the next book I write. It’s not the urge at the moment.
TM: There’s much less you have to imagine in the shorter form. You can just dip in.
RD: You can get a glimpse of life. In a short story you put on a pair of blinkers really and you get a glimpse. Whereas with a novel the blinkers come off and you have to know it all…Or not know it all, but look at it all. I’m not sure if I could do that. I’m not sure. But again, is it any different from deciding to write from the point of view of a woman?
TM: Did you have the same anxiety when you started The Woman Who Walked Into Doors?
TM: Or The Snapper?
RD: The Snapper, no. The arrogance of youth.
The Woman Who Walked Into Doors was a greater challenge, because that wasn’t just a different gender, it was a life experience that was totally foreign to myself. But the language wasn’t. [Paula Spencer] came from around the corner, so to speak, from where I grew up. So she was never foreign. There were aspects of her life that were foreign to me. But she wasn’t. I knew her grandmother. I knew her inside out. It was a question of choosing the right words. Somebody from outside Ireland, particularly someone for whom English wasn’t their first language: it would be a tricky one to carry out. It wouldn’t be impossible to carry out. But it would be a tricky one. And I would need a story, you know. But no I wouldn’t write off the possibility.
TM: Jimmy Rabbitte, Sr. has a daughter who is happily partnered to another woman and he’s ok with it. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to get inside the head of Jimmy Rabbitte, Sr. and decide that that would be his reaction. It also wouldn’t be a stretch for me to imagine that he wouldn’t be ok with it.
RD: Well, you’re talking family here as well. And what has happened in Ireland is that the circumstances from family to family are different. And you would have had family members who would have been seen as a bit special. Norman [Jimmy Rabbitte, Sr.’s gay cousin] is the example in this book.
My parents, they’re 88, and they reminisce a lot. They told me about a man in the 1930s walking about the area that my mother grew up in in a dress. And he was known as “Mrs. Something” – I can’t remember the name – even though he was a man. He was a character. A “character.” And left alone. And I think family often respected their “characters.” Now, decades later, attitudes change. There’s no need in a way to protect these “characters,” so to speak.
I think the father is a fundamentally decent man. He’s a blue-collar worker, but he’s not a behind-it blue-collar worker. And he would probably like it if things were different. But one of the things you do is you drop in a surprise. One of the things I love is that he judges his daughter’s partner by the quality of her pitch penny pub game.
TM: Still, it wouldn’t be unthinkable for a man of his generation to disown his daughter for being gay.
RD: No it wouldn’t be. The man next door might well do that. But [Jimmy, Sr.] doesn’t. What does he want to do? Destroy his family. That’s what would happen.
TM: Let me put it this way. It’s very challenging for the reader in The Woman Who Walked Into Doors when this husband who abuses Paula does things that are likable. It’s not something we really want to think about. We want him to be kept in this box of pure evil. You seem to love the characters in The Barrytown Trilogy to the point where they don’t do anything truly awful.
RD: Well, a lot of people have been upset with Jimmy having the fling with Imelda and not being punished for it. I’ve encountered that again and again, including in reviews. So they’re upset about that. A few people are upset about the attitudes of the men towards women. I don’t know how you deal with that. I could have made it more politically correct there. I could have had Jimmy having a confrontation with Aoife about the affair. She could have found out about it on his phone. She might have thrown him out of the house or something like that. I thought it was much much better to leave it messy and unfinished. Life is often messy and unfinished. It’s Hobson’s choice to a degree.
TM: There are moments of exhilaration in The Barrytown Trilogy and The Guts. And I think there’s a sense in these books that you must enjoy these moments of exhilaration because they won’t last. You will have to go back to monotony soon enough. What for you would be the moments of exhilaration in your career?
RD: Watching the fourth episode of the series called Family that I scripted. Writing a very very small passage of The Woman Who Walked Into Doors and knowing it was exactly as I wanted it to be. Watching rehearsals of The Commitments musical. Watching the things I put on paper becoming, I don’t know, the finished product. Not all of it. It can be quite tedious. But there are moments. The first time a cast got from beginning to end of a song, a song that I had chosen and chosen how to get into it and how to get out the other end. That felt particularly good, being part of it, and watching the movement that I hadn’t anticipated and that I thought was wonderful.
I’m trying to think if there are others. It’s all in the work actually. The work builds on the work. Just being there and working.
Following the Irish release of The Guts, the new Roddy Doyle novel that brings back Jimmy Rabbitte from The Commitments, The Irish Times interviews Doyle, who remembers a time when his writing garnered him death threats. Sample quote: “I drove the guy in the next room demented as I replayed an old tape, repeating the same musical phrase, again and again.”
With 2007 in the rear view mirror, we now look ahead to a new year of reading, one packed with intriguing titles.Let’s kick off with a pair that Garth was already pining for a year ago:Jonathan Littell’s Les Bienveillantes (The Kindly Ones) won the Prix Goncourt and was a runaway bestseller in France. Not bad for a novel that runs over 900 pages. The Kindly Ones has been generating buzz on this continent for a while now, with Forbes asking “2008’s Hottest Book?” back in 2006. The delay, of course, is the translation, which many have suggested is quite an undertaking for this complex volume. Literature-in-translation headquarters, The Literary Saloon, meanwhile, has been following the progress, and recent accounts indicate that the going is slow. Many readers are hoping to get their hands on this one in 2008, but my sources at HarperCollins tell me 2009 is a likelier bet. Of course, you could read it in French.The other book, Roberto Bolano’s 2666 (we were 600 years off when we wrote about it last year), also lacks a release date, but its arrival seems somewhat more tangible in that the translator has at least been identified – it’s Natasha Wimmer. Late last month she told the Times’ book blog that she was just finishing up. She added, “Long stretches of the novel are set on the Mexico-U.S. border and inside a prison. And that’s not all. Bolano really gives the translator a workout. I also researched Black Panther history, pseudo-academic jargon (actually, some of that came naturally), World War II German army terminology, Soviet rhetoric, boxing lingo, obscure forms of divination and forensic science vocabulary, among other things. If that makes the novel sound like a hodgepodge, I promise it’s not. Even the most obscure detours are thoroughly Bolano-ized – filtered through his weird, ominous, comic worldview.” The Spanish speakers among us can already have this one in hand if they want.Already out or coming soon: 2006’s surprise Pulitzer winner for March, Geraldine Brooks, has another novel out that draws from both literary and literal history. Last time it was the Civil War and Little Women, with The People of the Book, it’s World War II and the Sarajevo Haggadah. If you want to learn more about the famed Haggadah and the real-life events that inspired Brooks’ novel, there was a recent New Yorker story on the topic (which is sadly not available online.)Roddy Doyle’s new collection of stories, The Deportees, includes one that revisits characters from his iconic novel The Commitments. Of the collection, The Independent writes, “Charm and animation are the qualities that count with Doyle’s deportees, as he goes about sticking up for disparaged incomers in a context of Dublin demotic exuberance.”Adam Langer decamps Chicago, the stomping ground of his last two novels, for his new book Ellington Boulevard, “an ode to New York” according to the catalog copy. The book, says The Daily News, “tells the story of one apartment before, during and after the boom years in city real estate. 2B is on W. 106th St. and a new landlord is looking to make a killing.”February: Lauren Groff’s debut, The Monsters of Templeton arrives on the scene with a nice boost from Stephen King, who way back last summer had this to say about the book in Entertainment Weekly: “The sense of sadness I feel at the approaching end of The Monsters of Templeton isn’t just because the story’s going to be over; when you read a good one – and this is a very good one – those feelings are deepened by the realization that you probably won’t tie into anything that much fun again for a long time.” That taken together with novel’s first line – “The day I returned to Templeton steeped in disgrace, the fifty-foot corpse of a monster surfaced in Lake Glimmerglass.” – is enough to pique the interest of many a reader, I’d imagine.In keeping with the theme of debut novels with impressive backers, Ceridwen Dovey, who grew up in South Africa and Australia, scored blurbs from J.M. Coetzee and Colum McCann for Blood Kin, which PW describes as “a parable of a military coup as told by the ex-president’s barber, portraitist and chef.” It sounds like it may share some territory with Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s Wizard of the Crow. Another novel of a regime and its hangers on.In The Invention of Everything Else, Samantha Hunt has crafted an “imagining of an unlikely friendship between the eccentric inventor Nikola Tesla and a young chambermaid in the Hotel New Yorker where Tesla lives out his last days,” according to the publisher’s catalog description. Hunt was one of the National Book Foundation’s “5 under 35” in 2006. We can report that, anecdotally at least, the book is generating some interest. When we requested a galley from Houghton Mifflin a few weeks ago, we were told they were all gone.March: Tobias Wolff has a handsome volume of “New and Selected” stories on the way, Our Story Begins. The title story appeared in a 1985 collection, Back in the World, reviewed here by Michiko Kakutani.April: Interesting coincidence: Richard Bausch recently told Washington Post readers about his new novel, “It’s called Peace, and is set in Italy, near Mt. Cassino, in the terrible winter of 1944. Based on something my father told me long ago.” Over the last couple weeks, I’ve been reading about the battles that raged around Cassino in the winter of 1944, in Rick Atkinson’s excellent history of the liberation of Italy, Day of Battle. I would imagine there’s much for Bausch to draw from there.Keith Gessen, of n+1 fame will see his debut novel, All the Sad Young Literary Men, published in April. The LA Times, naming Gessen a “writer to watch,” offers back handed half-compliments, calling the book “a novel about, well, other bookish, male, Ivy League-schooled bohos in New York — their burning literary, academic and journalistic ambition, their pain. It’s a powerfully intelligent book that stylistically falls somewhere between a narcissistic wallow and a Tom Perrotta-style satire.” That may or may not be too harsh, as Gessen and company seem to inspire snark wherever they tread, but if anything, the discussion surrounding the book may be as fun to read as the book itself.Esteemed host of The Elegant Variation and friend of The Millions, Mark Sarvas will deliver his long awaited debut, Harry, Revised in April. He’s been keeping us up to date on his blog.Andrew Sean Greer also has a new book out in April, The Story of a Marriage. It’s set in 1950s San Francisco.You may have read Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Year’s End” in the year end New Yorker fiction issue. It’ll be collected with several other stories in Unaccustomed EarthMay: James Meek blew me away in 2006, with his odd and fantastical historical novel, A People’s Act of Love, which immersed readers in a world of post World War I Czech soldiers marooned in Siberian Yazyk among a mystical sect of castrati who lurk through the town like ghosts. And let’s not forget the escaped convict who claims he is being pursued by a cannibal. Meek is back in May with a much more conventional sounding effort, We Are Now Beginning Our Descent, about a journalist in the Afghan mountains covering the post-9/11 war and then back, trying to make sense of the “real” world upon his return.Tim Winton is a big name among Australian readers but not so much in the States. However, his rough-edged characters and windswept, lonely landscapes will transport nearly any reader to the remoter parts of Australia with ease. His latest, Breath, coming in May, offers big-wave surfers “on the wild, lonely coast of Western Australia.”June: Regular New Yorker readers may recognize the name Uwem Akpan. The Nigerian-born native of Zimbabwe landed a coveted spot in the Debut Fiction Issue in 2005 for his story “An Ex-Mas Feast,” and he was back again 2006 with “My Parents’ Bedroom.” Both stories appear in his forthcoming debut collection, Say You’re One of Them, which seems likely to fit in well with the mini-boom of African literature that we’ve seen over the last few years.Salman Rushdie’s forthcoming novel The Enchantress of Florence sounds very ambitious. Here’s a description from the Guardian: “Machiavellian intrigues of international high politics are scarcely the preserve of our century alone and in Salman Rushdie’s The Enchantress of Florence, the original master of unscrupulous strategy takes a starring role. This seductive saga links the Mughal empire with the Renaissance by way of an Indian princess, Lady Black Eyes, who finds herself central to the power struggles of 16th-century Florence. A virtuoso feat of storytelling, Rushdie’s novel also reflects on the dangers that come when fantasy and reality grow too intertwined.”July: Chris Adrian wowed readers in 2006 with his post-apocalyptic novel The Children’s Hospital. That novel’s ardent fans will be pleased to get their hands on a new collection of stories called A Better Angel. The collection’s title story appeared in the New Yorker in 2006.Western Haruki Murakami fans may have heard that another of his books has been translated. This one is a memoir titled – with a casual reference to another literary giant Raymond Carver – What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. On his blog Ted Mahsun notes, “The book is about his experience running in marathons. He’s quite the accomplished runner, having run in the Boston, New York and Tokyo marathons, amongst others. I didn’t think it would get translated into English since a lot of Murakami’s non-fiction which have been published in Japan gets ignored by his translators.” It’s Murakami’s only other non-fiction to appear in English besides UndergroundAugust: Paul Theroux is ready to tell us about another of his epic train rides in Ghost Train to the Eastern Star: 28,000 Miles in Search of the Railway Bazaar. “Thirty years after his classic The Great Railway Bazaar, Paul Theroux revisits Eastern Europe, Central Asia, India, China, Japan, and Siberia.”Date undetermined: Garth enjoyed Gregoire Bouillier’s “refreshingly odd voice” in his quirky memoir The Mystery Guest. Another memoir, Report on Myself, which won the Prix de Flore in France is forthcoming in spring 2008, but a release date has not yet been indicated.Tell us about your most anticipated books in the comments.