A former dancehall owner turned Taoiseach whose political career comes crashing down around him due to the non-appearance of an extradition warrant for a paedophile priest. Sound familiar? Irish readers, at least, will be more than familiar with the general thrust of Eamonn Sweeney's new novel, based as it is on recent political events. The photograph that lends its name to the title dates from the 1960s and brings together Henry Caslin, the Taoiseach-to-be, Father Gerry Lee, the priest and two other characters: Seamus McKeon, successful television journalist and Jimmy Mimnagh, political Mr Fix-It for Henry. This photograph links the past with the present, and out of it comes a narrative relating the connections between the four men and how their paths criss-cross one another over a period of nearly 40 years.
It is an ambitious piece of writing. Moreover, it is ambition that should be commended because Sweeney has preferred not simply to repeat the early successes of his first novel. After the exuberance and energy on display in Waiting for the Healer, heopts for a more measured, serious tone, befitting his material. For what he is attempting to do is tell the "big" story of Ireland through the smaller, interwoven narratives of these four characters. The scope of the novel is 20th century Ireland, moving from the early days of independence to the 1990s. His choice of characters allows him the opportunity of encompassing the public and private spheres, secular Ireland and religious Ireland, and - certainly of contemporary relevance at the moment - the world of business and media.
Despite admiration for the task Sweeney has set himself, that of understanding the developing faces of Ireland and Irish society over many years, there are a number of difficulties with The Photograph. For the Irish reader forearmed with the knowledge of recent history, there is little of the hoped for, and necessary, fictional insight that should compensate for knowing, basically, "whodunit" from the outset. Perhaps, though, the hoped for audience is an international one, and if so, then Sweeney's gallop through the recent past might be useful.
In his earlier work, Sweeney did not have to think about the past and how to represent it and thus exhibited a sure-footed confidence in his Tarantino-esque quick-fire cultural references. Here, he appears less comfortable with his material so that, for instance, 1960s Ireland feels very much like 1970s and 1980s Ireland. It is as if the action of the novel is taking place in a curious eternal present. In keeping with the hope of being inclusive, the novel shifts uneasily at times between the tragic and comic. However, the portrait of the Tough Guy - an island-owning Taoiseach - does offer some occasional and appropriate light relief.
Notwithstanding some faults, Eamonn Sweeney has produced a novel that, while it does not work in its entirety, possesses individual moments of brilliance and is consistently well written. The past - even the recent past - is always a site of contention in Ireland and Sweeney bravely confronts that problem. No doubt, he will return to this difficulty in the future and be more successful in his treatment.
Derek Hand teaches in the Department of English in University College, Dublin
