I'm about 2/3 done with the job so should be finished early, tomorrow. There's a marathon running about the island so no idea if I can go anywhere, but we shall see.
I finished reading Peggy Deery, basically a biographical story about the one woman who was shot on Bloody Sunday...and it's a bleak book. She had 14 children before her husband died from cancer, and they lived in dire poverty...except for the times when she was able to finagle money out of the British government for compensation for things like falling in a pothole or being shot by British troops. One son got involved, off and on, with the IRA and was blown up by a bomb he planned to transport. Another died in a bar brawl days before his wedding. It's just one thing after another.
Brendan and I had an interesting conversation about this book...and he doesn't want his life to be that downbeat. Which is a funny thing for him to say. But as he points out, "If I'm living someplace that's falling down about me, I'm not going to stand around and let it." He's good with his hands and just gets down to fixing things, and if it means helping himself to materials being used for redevelopment...his justification is, "They'll throw half of it out, anyway."
I do think I'll use one of his friends...or maybe a couple of them, to contrast with him. Paidrig's family's more like Peggy Deery's as regards the poverty and a house falling down around them. Colm's the sneaky type trying to get away with something while Brendan just does things that need to be done without telling anyone he's doing them and sometimes gets credit and sometimes gets blame. Danny is anger personified and turns his hate into a force against the Protestants and British while Brendan just wants to live his own life.
The more I work on this story, the more I realize Brendan is an anomaly...and yet, it's perfectly clear that while just about everyone in Derry knew someone who'd been killed or jailed during the Troubles, the actual violence only directly touched a small number of the population.
Here's hoping I can keep this from being the kind of book that pities the poor downtrodden of Ireland from the lofty height os those not truly touched by their condition...
I finished reading Peggy Deery, basically a biographical story about the one woman who was shot on Bloody Sunday...and it's a bleak book. She had 14 children before her husband died from cancer, and they lived in dire poverty...except for the times when she was able to finagle money out of the British government for compensation for things like falling in a pothole or being shot by British troops. One son got involved, off and on, with the IRA and was blown up by a bomb he planned to transport. Another died in a bar brawl days before his wedding. It's just one thing after another.
Brendan and I had an interesting conversation about this book...and he doesn't want his life to be that downbeat. Which is a funny thing for him to say. But as he points out, "If I'm living someplace that's falling down about me, I'm not going to stand around and let it." He's good with his hands and just gets down to fixing things, and if it means helping himself to materials being used for redevelopment...his justification is, "They'll throw half of it out, anyway."
I do think I'll use one of his friends...or maybe a couple of them, to contrast with him. Paidrig's family's more like Peggy Deery's as regards the poverty and a house falling down around them. Colm's the sneaky type trying to get away with something while Brendan just does things that need to be done without telling anyone he's doing them and sometimes gets credit and sometimes gets blame. Danny is anger personified and turns his hate into a force against the Protestants and British while Brendan just wants to live his own life.
The more I work on this story, the more I realize Brendan is an anomaly...and yet, it's perfectly clear that while just about everyone in Derry knew someone who'd been killed or jailed during the Troubles, the actual violence only directly touched a small number of the population.
Here's hoping I can keep this from being the kind of book that pities the poor downtrodden of Ireland from the lofty height os those not truly touched by their condition...
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