The Queen of Dirt Island by Donal Ryan

In a small bungalow on the outskirts of a village in Co. Tipperary live three generations of Aylward women - Eileen, her mother-in-law Mary, and daughter Saoirse. It isn't a peaceful household, yet, despite the arguments and fallings-out, it's a place filled with love; a home that's far more than bricks and mortar, but a haven, a place of belonging and nurture. 

It'll come as no surprise to readers of this blog that I'm an ardent admirer of Donal Ryan's writing. I've been hooked since I first read The Thing About December, and he's one of the few authors whose books I can pick up knowing I'll be enthralled and moved. This new story is no exception.  Two pages in there's a body blow of a shock and such is Ryan's writing that the reader already feels for this character, has shared their hopes and dreams, and mourns their loss - and like the women left behind by this tragic death, we readers too have to pull ourselves up and start over again.

This unexpected start sets the tone for the book. Revolving around these three generations of women, The Queen of Dirt Island is a story of resilience despite what life throws at you, about love and family ties, told with compassion and understanding. Their lives aren't easy - by any standards they seem to attract more than their fair share of tragedy, disappointment, loss, and straight forward bad luck - but together they pull through, and we're left with an impression that the future is bright.

It's set in the same general location as most of Ryan's work (an unnamed village somewhere near to Nenagh, Tipperary), and characters from other novels put in an appearance - most noticeably from Strange Flowers, to which it feels like a companion piece, but I'm fairly sure there are others too. I love this way of setting a particular story against a backdrop where other tales are unfolding; the postman, policeman, schoolgirl, the passers-by on the street, as in real life they all have lives of their own (and if we haven't been told about them yet, maybe we will be soon).

I also particularly enjoyed what seemed like a sly criticism of  male authors or teachers of writing courses - the way Saoirse's story is taken by someone claiming to know better than her, and twisted into something more dramatic, full of violence and extreme emotions, but essentially untrue. I'd love to know if Donal Ryan had someone in mind when he wrote this. 

A book that takes its characters through devastation and anger but is ultimately filled with the redemptive power of love.