A Singular Country
J. P. Donleavy
Donleavy brings to vivid life the range of Ireland's people, from the small farmer to the landed aristocrat. Priests, politicans, saints, scholars, none escape his pointed pen. Modern Ireland is unveiled with a mixture of genius and hilarity that only Donleavy can muster. Photographs.
up what you fancy of this usually generally tasty home grown and nutritious fare. Your host without coaxing will further regale you with his brogue and may even, when he’s feeling exceptionally chipper, sing an Irish ballad to prolong the collective happy atmosphere. But do prepare yourself not to take amiss his outspoken rudeness about the people, behaviour and places in the country you hale from. Remembering always that your man the host, widely travelled and sophisticated as he is, is your
mellowness has settled upon your chaps as the port has for the third time passed around during the telling of generally uproarious bawdily indiscreet stories and the ladies who have withdrawn are now to be joined by the gentlemen. You are by your mere presence helping your host to defray the cost, and in effect contributing to save the remaining handful of these great houses, castles and grand mansions. Encouraging them to still stand and remain able to function with their sadly depleted staffs,
one, be assured there are plenty more where she came from. But let us first take your variety, of your Man Fighter Mark I. She’d be of a prankish type and ready for a guffaw as your man knocking down the front door fell straight into his spaghetti dinner waiting for him just inside on the floor with his face rearing up out of the red sauce your woman would be up on top of the staircase, slapping her knees as she roared hysterically laughing her head off. Now then your man might kick and dance
tonics while sitting by the lounge window looking out upon the green of the eighteenth hole. Now although your golf club will have more of your Protestant Catholics assembled at the one time than nearly anywhere do be alert, as the club manager suggested, for an impostor. So it is wise to know at least a mite more about the Protestant Catholic. They are sticklers in arising promptly of a morning and to lay down to bed of an evening long before midnight. They are deeply fond of household pets and
to your tailor and bootmaker to equip to jump into an Irish saddle. But if you added to your regalia a pink coat on your back and gave chase to the fox you’d then be known as arrived, yourself among very upper crusters where you’d be operating under the biggest mystique of all. For the snobberies attached to the pursuit of this country pastime of fox hunting and trying to catch this cunning and elusive devil, are immense. For a start there’s no single section of people in this world who think