The Gathering

by Anne Enright

Paperback: 272 pages

Publisher: Vintage (March 6, 2008)

ISBN-10: 0099501635

ISBN-13: 978-0099501633

Anne Enright won the Booker Prize in 2007 for her book, The Gathering. It is this fact alone which made me buy this book. It is a literary novel and on the back cover of the book, the synopsis reads:

The nine surviving children of the Hegarty clan gather in Dublin for the wake of their wayward brother Liam. It wasn’t the drink that killed him – although that certainly helped – it was what happened to him as a boy in his grandmother’s house, in the winter of 1968.

In all honesty, I had great difficulty with this book. The first time round, I had to stop reading by Chapter 14. When I thought about it, I realised that the reason I wasn’t interested in the book was not that everything was gloomy and sad; it wasn’t even because everything seemed to revolve around sex. It wasn’t even that Enright had managed to successfully portray the reality of how people must live. It was that there was very little happiness in it the story. Perhaps, I had a pre-conceived notion that in reading this book, I would be able to re-live some of my happy memories of Ireland. You see, I have visited Ireland only once and that too in winter. Though it was really cold and wet at the time, I still have very fond memories of the people and the place; the people were pleasant and happy; there were many situations that were funny and I had a great holiday. I knew that it was extremely unfair of me to do this. So, after a break of about three months, I picked the book up again and this time, I finished it. I cannot maintain that I enjoyed reading this book. But, I was genuinely moved by the way the story ends and felt genuine compassion for the protagonist as she endures her brother’s death.

There is no doubt that Enright is a master of language and perhaps, it was this part of the book that ‘saved’ it for me. There are sentences that are absolutely lovely. For instance, my favourite paragraph is this:

For a few weeks, Daddy could not look at me, and this hurt me in the Daddy-loves-his-little-girl place; the place where you trust and flirt. But though it hurt, I found that I was able to draw on more ancient huts than that – and this is how I survived. This is how we all survive. We default to the oldest scar.

Personally, I would never offer this book to a person who is already depressed. This is not a story that would cheer someone up. Indeed, if I were in mourning and someone gives me this book to read, I think I would probably never speak to this person again. That said, this book is an amazing work that showcases good writing. The words flow, the language is beautiful and I’ve learned much from it.

2 July 2008

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