In Sullivan’s historical thriller, a young man from Northern Ireland emerges from a catatonic state in Texas and finds that he’s an international fugitive.

In 1973,17-year-old Brendan Kinsella suddenly regains consciousness at his Aunt Mari’s house in Houston, Texas, far from his own home in Derry, Northern Ireland. His mother’s sister cautiously begins to reveal to him the shocking nature of his predicament. After he was accidentally caught in a politically motivated bombing, he was smuggled out of the country under an assumed name: Brendan McGabbhinn. Badly wounded, he slid into akinetic catatonia—a state in which his “mind had separated itself from this world, for a little while.” Now he struggles to remember details of his former life; he also resists doing so, however, mainly because his beloved girlfriend, Joanna, perished in the attack. At first, he’s elated to be free of “the horrors of Derry, and the hate and the pain and the anger and the suffering and the never-ending brutality, both small and large,” but he considers returning to his homeland after he finds out that his brother, Eamonn, has been arrested and that his mother is ill with cancer. Over the course of the novel, Sullivan deftly manages to present the protagonist as an ordinary teenager with prosaic, adolescent longings and shows how he’s been transformed by living in a grimly violent environment. The entire novel is written from Brendan’s first-person perspective, a narrative choice that allows readers to easily feel his emotional conflicts and agitations. The novel can be bewilderingly unclear at times, but such confusion artfully mirrors the protagonist’s own disorientation. Overall, it’s a subtly evocative tale with psychological nuance and historical verisimilitude.

A moving depiction of the human costs of political chaos.

In Sullivan’s historical novel, a young Irishman flees the violence of his native land for America but returns years later to see his dying mother on a trip fraught with danger.

Brendan Kinsella grows up in Derry, Ireland, during the tumultuous years of the Troubles and does his best to avoid the acrimonious partisanship despite his mother’s rabid nationalism and his father’s likely ties to the IRA. Nevertheless, he is drawn into the fray, and after he is involved in a bombing gone wrong that nearly kills him, he escapes to Houston, Texas, to begin a new life under the assumed name Brennan McGabbhinn. When he discovers that his mother is soon to die from cancer, he comes home to see her, traveling under yet another alias borrowed from a friend—Jeremy Landau, a Jewish American conducting academic research. Brendan, who was 16 years old when he left, now returns to a “city of ghosts” eight years later—“eight bloody fucking years of death and destruction”—in a grim homecoming powerfully described by the author in this emotionally piercing novel. Brendan’s siblings don’t even know he’s alive (his bother Eamonn is in prison for his work against the British), and his mother receives him with an icy coldness, still embittered because he never wholeheartedly joined the cause (a reluctance she interprets as “superior and condescendin’”). Sullivan poignantly depicts Brennan’s immense psychic struggle—he is torn apart by the discovery that his murdered father might not have been who he believed him to be, and that the girl he loved and presumed dead might still be alive. Moreover, he is still a hunted man in Derry, by both the Irish and the British. The author brings the crackling volatility of the times to vivid life, especially the infamous hunger strikes. Unfortunately, Sullivan’s prose can lose its luster when he turns, somewhat ponderously, philosophical: “We are born. We live an existence of meaning to ourselves, alone. We die. All else is illusion.” Still, this is a moving portrait of a tragic cycle of violence and the lives it consumes.

A historically exacting and dramatically arresting novel.

A young Catholic boy in Northern Ireland is drawn into the political tumult of the 1970s in Sullivan’s novel.

In 1956, Brendan Kinsella is born in Derry, Northern Ireland, a Catholic town imperiously controlled by a Protestant-dominated government. Just after Brendan's 10th birthday, his father, Eamonn, is savagely murdered by two Protestants, an event that transforms the volatile alcoholic into a political martyr. Brendan is unabashedly happy he’s dead—Eamonn’s drunken irresponsibility kept his family in squalid poverty. Brendan’s mother, Bernadette, thinks her son dimwitted, but he’s actually just a peculiar loner, disinterested in making friends or playing sports, with an uncanny knack for fixing things. As a young boy, he’s largely indifferent to the political acrimony between Catholics and Protestants—he knows he’s cheated by both, and that his priest, Father Demian, is a hypocrite and likely a pedophile. However, as violence mounts in Derry and his mother, a nationalist zealot, encourages him to hate the other side, he becomes deeply embroiled in the bitter disputes of the time, a transformation deftly portrayed by the author. Brendan meets Joanna Martin, a Protestant from an affluent family, and quickly falls in love; his devotion to her undermines his blind partisanship, which is gradually replaced by a contempt for both sides. “What struck me most was the lunacy of those in control, on either side, who thought they could end this cycle of death by threatening even greater death, but that’s what they did.” The arc of Brendan’s maturity is depicted with great subtlety and restraint by Sullivan, who artfully and admirably avoids any sententious proselytizing or earnest sentimentality. In addition to the power of the novel’s emotional drama, the author also provides a historically rigorous look into what came to be known, with astonishing understatement, as “the Troubles.” This is an engrossing and intelligent work.

A thrilling tour of a historically volatile conflict.