The Glorious Heresies

June 20, 2016
Winner of the 2016 Baileys Prize, Irish author McInerney serves up an aptly titled debut novel that is biting, brash, and bleak. Set in Cork during the recent recession, the story revolves around the murder of a young sot named Robbie O’Donovan, who is accidentally done in by the religious relic–wielding mother of notorious crime boss Jimmy Phelan. To cover his mother’s mistake, Phelan hires a Tony, a “cleaner,” to sort out the mess, but he is a widower and an abusive drunk with six kids. Soon Tara Duane, Tony’s gossip-mongering ex-madam neighbor, gets involved, as does one of Tara’s old employees, Georgie—a coke snorting, on-again/off-again prostitute who half-heartedly searches for her disappeared ex-boyfriend, Robbie O’Donovan, while biding time with a religious cult to maybe get clean. Overly circuitous at times, the violence-riddled story flails under the weight of its complex setup in parts, but the sections involving Tony’s teenage son, Ryan, pick up the slack. The scenes describing Ryan’s earnest and sex-fueled relationship with his girlfriend are some of the most authentic and engaging in this gritty book, as is the boy’s free fall into drug dealing and debauchery after shouldering one too many of his father’s goofs. McInerney displays a clear knack for dramatic flourish and witty turns of phrase. Agent: Ivan Mulcahy, Mulcahy Associates.

Lisa McInerney's debut novel is a sharp-tongued, keen-eyed take on some of the most original characters around, and narrator Shelley Atkinson's lively delivery is just what's called for. When Maureen Phelan accidentally kills an intruder, she calls her son, Jimmy, the boss of the Irish mob, to help her clean up the mess. From there, events spiral out of control. Atkinson doesn't miss a moment of McInerny's irony and dark humor. She handles drug dealers, junkies, and priests with all their individual quirks in place. She's particularly effective as Maureen condemns the clergy while making a not-so-remorseful confession. Serious and funny, naturalistic and lyrical, McInerney's novel uncovers many facets of today's Ireland, from criminals to crazies to clergy, and Atkinson makes it all fun listening. S.J.H. © AudioFile 2016, Portland, Maine

February 1, 2017

This may be McInerney's debut novel, but the author has had plenty of practice chronicling daily life in her lauded blog, "Arse End of Ireland." Arriving stateside, already impressively awarded (2016 Baileys Women's Prize for Fiction), Heresies melds wrenching reality with bitter comedy, taking on family dysfunction, religious fervor, organized crime, and society's most unwanted. In Cork, Ireland, a dead man unites a disparate cast that includes his killer, Maureen, who has recently been relocated from London; her estranged son, Jimmy, who's the local criminal kingpin responsible for the corpse's disposal; prostitute Georgia, who attempts a religious conversion to escape her addictions; her teenaged dealer Ryan, who is bursting with first love; and Ryan's alcoholic father, Tony, who is both a bully and a coward. As if in promise (or threat) that these often dismal lives must continue, McInerney's women endure years of unplanned pregnancies and financial hardships, underscoring an inevitable cycle of inherited difficulties likely to plague future generations. Narrator Shelley Atkinson's range of voices, emotions, and inflections animate and enliven McInerney's indelible tale. VERDICT Propelled by equal parts wincing discomfort and maliciously laced laughter, Heresies makes an excellent addition for libraries investing in the recent surge of Irish writers, including Eimear McBride, Colin Barrett, and Tana French.--Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon, Washington, DC

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