Charming Billy

Starred review from December 1, 1997
The death of charming Billy Lynch from alcoholism is the starting point from which McDermott (At Weddings and Wakes) meticulously develops this poignant and ironic story of a blighted life set in the Irish-American communities of Queens, the Bronx and the Hamptons. With dialogue so precise that a word or two conjures a complex relationship, she examines the curse of alcoholism and the cost it takes on family and friends. Did Billy drink because of a broken heart caused by the death of Eva, the young woman he ardently loved who had gone back to Ireland after their brief summer together? If so, his cousin Dennis has much on his conscience, since he knew that Eva used the money Billy sent her for return passage to put a down payment on a gas station for the man she decided to marry. Dennis spared Billy the humiliation of public jilting by inventing the story of Eva's demise. Or is alcoholism "the genetic disease of the Irish," a refuge for souls who can sustain their religious faith in an afterlife only if earthly existence is pursued through a bleary haze? Was plain, courageous Maeve, the woman Billy eventually married, devastated by his drinking, or was her uncomplaining devotion yet another aspect of an ancient pattern in Irish families? McDermott sensitively probes the ties of a people bound by blood, long acquaintance, shared memories, the church and the tolerance of liquor in its men. If Billy drank to sustain his belief in heaven, to find redemption for his unfulfilled life on earth, is the church's teaching about death "a well intentioned deception"? McDermott's compassionate candor about the demands of faith and the realities of living brings an emotional resonance to her seamlessly told, exquisitely nuanced tale.

If you're prone to crying or misting up at a sad tale well told, don't drive while listening to this book. Billy Lynch had a hard life, which led to hard drinking, which killed him. Between all that is a wonderful story. Narrator Roses Prichard expertly inhabits the book and uses her quirky, high-pitched voice to make it both wrenching and fascinating. She doesn't need to use character voices because her voice is so enchanting. It has a childlike quality at first, but it ages with the book until Prichard becomes the adult bearer of tragic tidings. She even gets to sing, which she also does well. It's hard to stop listening to both McDermott and Prichard--but have tissues ready. R.I.G. Winner of AUDIOFILE Earphones Award (c)AudioFile, Portland, Maine