Ghosts and Lightning

Starred review from October 26, 2009
Although gothic tropes pervade Byrne's strong debut novel, they're doused—or soused, rather—with vibrant Dublin brogue and streetwise wit. On the death of his mother, 26-year-old Denny Cullen comes home to a small, “disgraceful fuckin kip” in Dublin's sprawl, where dwells his quite alive and quite drunk lesbian sister, Paula. She claims there's a gender-bending ghost hiding under the bed, so their friend and methadone-addicted spiritual adviser, Pajo, conducts a kitchen-table séance that prompts Denny to find meaning and purpose in his own life. Overwhelmed by grief and alienated from his father and brothers, Denny struggles against the boozy tides of violent childhood memories, unemployment and low self-esteem. If his aimlessness threatens to scuttle a plot that depends upon the shenanigans of his friends and their enemies, then it's Denny's voice and sensibility that buoy the narrative. He and his mates turn phrases so wry, so inventive, so Irish, that one feels the burning intelligence and resilience that reside in even the mangiest stripe of the Celtic tiger.

November 1, 2009
A refugee from Dublin's slums returns home to face the phantoms of his hometown.

Byrne (Creative Writing/Glamorgan Univ.) displays an unmistakable gift for storytelling in a debut that for better or worse owes more to Ireland's oral traditions than it does to novelistic structure. Our narrator is Denny Cullen, an expatriate from the projects of south Dublin whose ambitions—flee to Wales, make a few pounds, get a college education—come crashing down when his mother dies."There yeh are, anyway," Denny says."Must o stepped on a snake somewhere. Slid back to Dublin. Square one. Or Wicklow at this exact moment, which might be square two, or even minus one. Ah sure, details." Delivered in that fantastic (but explicit) Southern vernacular that frequently uses profanity as punctuation, Cullen and his drink-addled companions launch a series of misadventures that never end well. He rooms with his sister Paula, a lesbian who starts every afternoon with a tipple, in a house haunted not only by the memory of their mother but also by a genuine ghost. The best mates Denny finds are his old ones. Maggit is a violent hooligan in the vein familiar to readers of Irvine Welsh, while Pajo is a recovering junkie with a decidedly casual attitude toward the world whose cavalier text messages and insights smack of Zen Buddhism. The narrative is frustratingly directionless for a long time, as Denny and his partners in crime immerse themselves in the drug-fueled mayhem that only abject poverty can inspire. But eventually the book posits Denny as an unlikely modern version of the Irish hero Cúchulainn, who"went on to do all sorts o mad stuff, taking on gods and monsters and the enemies of Ulster." This twist introduces a mythic quality in stark contrast to the characters' ribald, lightning-fast dialogue.

Messy, funny, troubled and tragic.

(COPYRIGHT (2009) KIRKUS REVIEWS/NIELSEN BUSINESS MEDIA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

December 15, 2009
Denny Cullen, returning to Dublin from Wales for his mother's funeral, slides back into old friendships, habits, and dysfunction. In spite ofor perhaps because ofhis ready reacquaintance with these sometimes precarious comforts, he becomes slowly aware of an unease threatening his sense of purpose. Byrne brilliantly reveals Denny's trepidations by weaving allusions to supernatural beings and events throughout the novel. Though a rationalist, Denny still fears the banshee's wail and often turns to Irish myths and legends for insights to steady and sustain himself. Denny finally accepts his grief over his mother's death and opens himself to the freedom of moving on. VERDICT Byrne's promising debut is a humane, credible, and wry account of the inner struggles that bind us all as well as a vivid and affectionate portrait of modern Dublin's people and places. At its best, this story calls to mind the opening stories in Joyce's "Dubliners" and easily rivals the work of Roddy Doyle and Patrick McCabe.J. Greg Matthews, Washington State Univ. Libs., Pullman

Copyright 2009 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

December 1, 2009
A kinder, gentler Irvine Welsh, first-novelist Byrne gives voice to a pack of Dublin lads, chief among them Denny Cullen. Having escaped the monotony of his unemployed, hard-drinking Dublin lifestyle for the fresh sights of Wales, Denny is unexpectedly called back home when his ma dies. He is incredibly sad to think that he will no longer hear the encouraging words of his funny, resilient ma. His lesbian sister, Paula, is in even worse shape as she tries to drink and drug her way through her grief, claiming she is being haunted by a ghost under her bed. Theres nothing for it but to have a s'ance, led by Dennys childhood friend Pajo, a green-haired ex-heroin addict with a mystical bent (one who may be a Buddhist but still drinks like a Catholic). Mad for wrestling and Guinness, Denny and his pals do their best to keep the darkness at bay, trading sharp one-liners in a thick Irish brogue. They prove irresistible even as Byrne offers up a caustic portrait of modern Dublin and life on the dole.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2009, American Library Association.)