THAT OLD COUNTRY MUSIC

Tales of love, lust, and country life by the gifted Irish writer.

It’s spring or summer in western Ireland in most of these 11 stories. The whitethorn—or hawthorn, which helps the heart, say herbalists—may be “decked over the high fields as if for the staging of a witch’s wedding.” And love appears throughout, romantic, familial, injurious, magical, morbid. A man drives away his lover for the painfully familiar reason that he can’t imagine “what kind of a maniac could fall for the likes of me.” A young woman who targets a man to take her virginity before she returns to boarding school feels a new sense of power when he is run out of town. A man inherits a cottage that seems to make him irresistible to women, but while he’s Don Juan under that roof, “elsewhere I was, as ever, a bag of spanners.” A collector of old western Irish songs is startled by one in which a married woman seduces a herdsman so she can regale her husband with descriptions of her victim’s besotted state. A pregnant 17-year-old waits in a van while her fiance is supposedly off robbing a gas station to finance their elopement, but here “the whitethorn blossom…made an ominous aura as it moved in the wind.” Barry has the right stuff for short stories. He brings characters to life quickly and then blesses them with his uncanny ear for dialogue and prose rhythms, his compassion and wry wit. Most intriguing is one that opens with a dead whitethorn and has Theodore Roethke in an Irish psychiatric hospital (as he was in 1960), bantering with an earnest doctor while the poet’s mordant interior monologue adds a subtext on madness and creativity.

Exceptional writing and a thoroughly entertaining collection.