It is unusual to start a book review by referring to the dedication, but sitting down with Éilís Ní Dhuibhne’s Little Red and Other Stories I was struck by the first words I encountered: for my friends.
A good writer can transform a simple phrase into something interesting but a great one can elevate it into something profound. While I’ve read and enjoyed many of Ní Dhuibhne’s books over the years, I found something deeply satisfying in these words, implying a writer at ease with herself, her reputation and her work.
In this most isolating of years, perhaps it’s no coincidence that many of these stories feature solitary, almost quarantined characters, women who have slipped into invisibility with the passing of the decades but who remain alert, observant and vital. They have lost men through death or betrayal but are not content to retire to the television set and an early night, instead revitalising their lives through travel or by embracing dating apps.
As the title of the book suggests, there are multiple references to fairytales, a form of writing notable for its surprising degree of violence. True to this conceit, Lemon Curd depicts the daily life of a Miss Moffat, a spinster who witnesses the viciousness of men wherever she turns, on a bus, in a language class, by a cycling lane. She has spent a life trapped with her mother and, while we learn little of her past, a dark shadow looms over her for she sees intimidation in even the most innocuous of encounters.
Similar themes emerge in Visby, in which the narrator, an Irishwoman living in Sweden, learns that a colleague and his family have drowned in a boating accident. Only someone whose life has been scarred by trauma would find herself immediately suspicious. “Something in me sank or darkened when I allowed myself to suspect that he might have murdered his wife and two children, boys aged ten and eight. Was Maurice one of those men who seem normal and kind at work, but at home metamorphose into a monstrous bully?”
These recurring themes of fairytale, violence and unnatural death recall Angela Carter and Jeanette Winterson, and Ní Dhuibhne’s work is unsettling enough to merit comparison with both.
Change and loss reappear throughout, as does the protagonists’ need to escape. There are multiple references to enticing destinations – Denmark, the Canary Islands, New Zealand, Berlin – a small torture when most of us are fantasising about how exciting it might be to travel more than 5km from our homes.
Unusual image
Ní Dhuibhne has the ability to draw an unusual image from an otherwise commonplace moment. Searching for a lost earring, a character reflects on the fact that a pair more often go missing together, “like a couple eloping or sneaking off on a clandestine weekend’, while another, enjoying a moment of peace, describes her mood as “like the wind or a white cloud in the sky, over which she has absolutely no control”.
Occasionally one is left longing for more, as in the title story, a surrealist take on Little Red Riding Hood, where a woman abandoned by her husband of 30 years allows a strange man to enter her house and prepares to feed him, all the time wondering whether she might be turning herself into a victim. The story ends abruptly, leaving the reader to wonder how the situation resolves itself. Its unexpected curtailment recalled for me the last scene of The Sopranos, where everything must end because, perhaps, the central character can no longer be a witness to their own misadventures.
Ní Dhuibhne offers a nod to both Faulkner and Joyce in the final story, As I Lay Dying, once again referencing the Red Riding Hood theme, appropriate in this case as the protagonist is an actress, and just as the malevolent wolf disguises himself in costume and appearance to deceive a child, so does the actor on stage give a performance, convincing the audience that she is someone else entirely.
These are stories that are not showy or provocative but are rooted in human feeling and authenticity. While most are centred around the experiences of older women, there is a universality to the descriptions that makes one reflect on mortality with curiosity instead of fear.
Éilís Ní Dhuibhne has added to her substantial body of work with a collection that embraces life even as it contemplates the frequent disappointments of living. It may be dedicated to her friends, but it is also a gift to her readers.
John Boyne’s latest novel is A Traveller at the Gates of Wisdom (Doubleday)
