The Blood Miracles by Lisa McInerney

Image result for lisa mcinerney the blood miracles

My review of Lisa McInerney’s The Blood Miracles appears in today’s Sunday Business Post Magazine (behind, as ever, the Iron Paywall). Here’s an excerpt:

The problem is that the whole thing comes at you through a thick impasto of woozy sentiment. Most Irish writers fall prey to sentimentality – it’s the national disease, after all – but in doing so, they tend to sacrifice precision, which is not a minor loss. Too often, McInerney abjures clarity and settles for vaguely-conjured – but unmistakably strong – emotion. Here’s an example: “Cork City holds up the night and its people shiver and cough under its canopy: Ryan feels the contrast of cover and exposure, the cramped streets as shelter from spinning space, and both make him nervous.”  The feeling is unmistakable; the meaning, less so. Another example: “Inebriation ebbs and its detritus knocks its code on the back of his skull.” And another: “He is all for it, one hundred per cent on the side of opportune disruption with an implied, undressed conclusion.” At a fairground: “People whirl in the air above them, prisoners of mechanical beasts weaving webs from happy howls […] There are promises in neon.” After a night on pills: “He thinks of eternities as the air crystallises and the pubs start to close.”

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