Troubles (New York Review Books Classics) [Englisch] [Taschenbuch]

Originally published in 1970 and newly reprinted, Troubles, the story of Ireland's fight for independence from 1919 - 1922, illuminates the attitudes and insensitivities which made revolution a necessity for the Irish people. Farrell also, however, focuses on the personal, human costs to the residential Anglo-Irish aristocracy as they find themselves being driven out of their "homes."

Edward Spencer, a conservative Protestant loyalist, runs a decaying 300-room hotel on the coast of County Wexford. Regarding himself as a benevolent landowner, he nevertheless demands total submission of his tenants and the signing of a loyalty oath to the King. His ironically named Majestic Hotel, lacking maintenance during the war and its aftermath, is now too costly to repair. When British Major Brendan Archer, newly released from hospital, arrives at the Majestic to reintroduce himself to his fiancée Angela, daughter of the proprietor, the reader quickly sees the Majestic as the symbol of a faded aristocracy which has outlived its usefulness. The windows are broken, the roof is leaking, and decorative gewgaws and balconies are hanging loosely, threatening to crash. Walls, floors, and even ceilings, are swelling and cracking from vegetation run wild, and the hotel's ironically named Imperial Bar is "boiling with cats," some of which live inside upholstered chairs and all of which subsist on a diet of rats and mice. Irish rebels live just outside the hotel's perimeter.

With wry humor and a formidable talent for description, Farrell conjures up nightmarish images of life in the hotel, selecting small, vivid details to make the larger thematic picture more real. Homely details enlarge his canvas and bring his symbolism home to the reader as the rebellion by the Irish poor continues to grow and affect life within the microcosm of the Majestic. The reader's feeling of claustrophobia and the need to escape builds, and one is not surprised when violence strikes.

By injecting small news stories throughout the narrative, Farrell informs the reader about the progress of the rebellion. He also sets up global parallels, widening his scope by reporting problems in India, South Africa, and other parts of the Empire, along with the Chicago Riots and the Bolshevist attacks in Kiev. Humor and sometimes satire leaven even the most emotional moments, and Farrell paints his characters with a broad brush which makes one constantly aware of their absurdity. Clearly delineating the emotional issues behind the drive for Irish independence, Farrell makes the reader see both sides with empathy. When Edward and the Major finally begin to shoot the Majestic's cats in preparation for a large ball, the reader is prepared for a final round of violence at the Majestic and almost welcomes it. Mary Whipple

Imagine Henry James collaborating with the macabre cartoonist Charles Addams, with a droller version of Joseph Heller serving as war consultant, and you begin to get an idea of the tone of this captivating novel. Through the first 100 pgs or so it can seem like nothing more than a well-written novel of manners covering familiar territory of upperclass, "the quality," holding on to pretense of gentility(though the discovery of a rotting sheep's head in nightstand drawer early on is a pretty good tip of what's to come), but stay with it because Farrell uses this potentially well-worn setting brilliantly to develop a bizarre but moving story that covers everything from unrequited love to political assassination to existentialism, all with a lyrical prose and bewitching tone that never raises its voice above that of bemused and befuddled exasperation. Farrell creates menace the old-fashioned way, by leaving much of it offstage, described after the fact or reported 2nd and 3rd hand, including newspaper clippings, a la Dos Passos, in the USA Trilogy, or by having it creep up on you unexpectedly like a cold draft from one of the many cracks and darkened, musty corners of the Majestic Hotel, where the ghosts are still alive but unable, or unwilling, to comprehend that the world as they knew it is inexorably disappearing one roof shingle, floor board, and beloved pet at a time. Farrell is masterful at lulling you into a false sense of security with a patient detailing of the minutiae of domestic life in the hotel -- the petty jealousies among the ancient "guests" (who really have no where else to go); the dedication to dull routine and tradition to fill up empty hours -- before reminding you with a stealthy jerk just when you're about to doze off after tea time that violence laps at the gates and untended gardens of the Majestic as inevitably as the ocean tides some of the resentful locals use for revenge against those who oppose their rebellion. For all the vivid eccentricity of the other characters, it is Major Brendan Archer, British gentleman of wealth and traumatized WWI veteran (though Farrell, again, skillfully reminds of his war experiences only when you least expect it), who best reveals the confusion and frustration of attempting to reclaim a former world gone corrupt and obselete, and move into a new world without sacrificing the values and codes that once served him so well. That is his dilemma, and it is part of Farrell's brilliance that he never offers his main character, or his audience, any pat answers. Instead, Archer stumbles his way trough this chaotic, crumbling life with an outdated sense of honor and duty he knows has become futile but can't figure out how to replace. If all this sounds a bit heavy, fear not, for if you like your humor on the dark side, this book is filled with marvelous moments, including a gala ballroom scene that would make Flaubert applaud. (And you'll never look at your cat the same way after reading the conflagration scene!) My only criticism is that the political views of some characters tend to sound, at times, not always, like set speeches intended to provide audience with summaries of Irish nationalism and British imperialism in the 20s, but that may be only because I've read much of this history elsewhere, and so it sounded a bit canned. For readers unfamiliar with the period, however, this dialogue may prove helpful, (and keep in mind that Farrell wrote this novel some 50 years after the events, when most American readers would not have such knowledge). Near the end of the novel, one character, when all seems to be falling apart, observes, "All this fuss, it's all fuss about nothing. We're here for awhile and then we're gone. People are insubstantial. They never last at all." While this morose thought may sum up one of Farrell's themes, rest assured that his characters are anything but "insubstantial" and that this superb novel should last a long time, even longer than it takes the Majestic Hotel to fall apart.

This novel predates Farrell's Booker Prize-winning novel The Siege of Krishnapur by several years, but it's nearly as good. Set during "the Troubles" in Ireland in the early 1920s, it tells the story of a failing resort hotel, run by a dotty Anglo-Irish family, as seen through the eyes of a veteran of World War I, a shell-shocked British major. Most of violence of the Irish Rebellion takes place offstage, as the family scheme and intrigue against each other, and as the Major hopelessly woos an ironic Irish girl. Troubles is one of those rare books with a successful central metaphor: the hotel itself--leaking, nearly empty, infested with cats--standing in for the decaying Anglo-Irish ascendancy, as forces the Anglo-Irish barely understand creep in from outside to destroy their way of life. Nabokov was a big influence on Farrell, and the prose is elegant and clear-eyed and compassionate all at once. The book is funny, slyly satirical, suspenseful, and even a bit rueful for the loss of this silly way of life. Troubles is a wonderful book.