海角大神

海角大神 / Text

Maggie O鈥橣arrell digs into her ancestral Irish roots in 鈥楲and鈥

鈥淟and,鈥 Maggie O鈥橣arrell鈥檚 10th novel, burrows into her family鈥檚 past, and into the history of their patch of Ireland, with sensitivity and grace.

By Heller McAlpin, Contributor

In 2017, Maggie O鈥橣arrell published 鈥淚 Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes With Death,鈥 a memoir about how surviving various hair-raising incidents and illnesses amplified her zest for life. Before the memoir鈥檚 publication, the writer, who hails from Northern Ireland, was best known for intricately plotted, mostly contemporary fiction. These novels, including 鈥淭he Hand That First Held Mine鈥 and 鈥淭his Must Be the Place,鈥 featured dramatic revelations about fiercely independent, nonconformist women and their families.

Writing her memoir seems to have unleashed O鈥橣arrell. Three extraordinary historical novels have followed: 鈥淗amnet,鈥 鈥淭he Marriage Portrait,鈥 and her latest, 鈥淟and.鈥 All are packed with enough drama, misfortune, devotion, and beauty to get your heart racing.

鈥淟and,鈥 O鈥橣arrell鈥檚 10th novel, is a powerful epic about a place and its long-suffering peoples, told through hardships and moments of grace. It packs a wallop. Set on a remote Irish peninsula in the aftermath of the Great Hunger, the narrative focuses on the family of a talented but poorly paid surveyor and cartographer named Tom谩s. He has been hired by the British Ordnance Survey to map the territory and record the loss of hundreds of Irish tenant households following the potato blight 鈥 which neither the British government nor landlords did anything to assuage. 鈥淗ow radiant, how lovely is the land 鈥 and yet how empty,鈥 reflects Tom谩s鈥 10-year-old son and reluctant assistant, Liam, who is out on a commission with his father in an icy rain.

The novel, which begins in 1865, spools back millennia to the region鈥檚 earliest settlers, invaders, and oppressors, and stretches forward more than 100 years to cover the lifespan of the last of Tom谩s鈥 four children. The region鈥檚 history is characterized by waves of violence, colonization, and injustice, which are reflected not only in maps, but also local lore. Like much of O鈥橣arrell鈥檚 work, 鈥淟and鈥 is lushly written, atmospheric, and heartbreaking 鈥 yet it is also a moving paean to perseverance, survival, and forgiveness. In its focus on the inhabitants of a homestead over centuries, it evokes Daniel Mason鈥檚 鈥淣orth Woods.鈥

O鈥橣arrell found inspiration in the late 16th century for both Shakespeare鈥檚 family life in 鈥淗amnet,鈥 and the fraught marriage of Lucrezia di Cosimo de鈥橫edici in 鈥淭he Marriage Portrait.鈥 Her inspiration for 鈥淟and鈥 is rooted in the 19th century, closer to home: O鈥橣arrell鈥檚 great-great-grandfather, also named Tom谩s, worked as an uncredited laborer under British officers for the Ordnance Survey in Ireland. The novel is dedicated to her family, 鈥減ast, present, and future.鈥

We learn from flashbacks in the novel that Tom谩s and his wife (whose identity we discover in time) are survivors of multiple hardships 鈥 the famine, the loss of their parents and siblings, evictions from their childhood homes, and the workhouse where orphans were sent to split rocks for the British troops and cut hides to mend soldiers鈥 shoes. As adults, the couple survive by their wits, hard work, and later, the help of kind neighbors.

But unexpected circumstances also play a role in this family鈥檚 trajectory. 鈥淟and鈥 is a novel of separations and reunions, and of distressing missed connections (often unbeknownst to the characters), and surprising convergences. It brings home the difficulty of finding lost loved ones in an age of mass immigration without the benefits of rapid communication.

To give away too much of the plot would be a disservice. In its later sections, 鈥淟and鈥 rotates among Tom谩s鈥 four children, immersed in their individual struggles, separated by oceans. The two oldest 鈥 a bright, restless daughter discontented with the few options open to girls, and a sensitive son who is persuaded by the local priest to join the Jesuit ministry 鈥 are lured afar, with mixed results.

O鈥橣arrell enriches her beautiful descriptions of the land with a sprinkling of Irish terms, such as 鈥渂oreen鈥 for a narrow, unpaved country lane, and 鈥渉aggard,鈥 used not as an adjective describing exhaustion but as a noun that signals an enclosed area near a farmhouse for stacking hay, grain, or straw. She captures the ocean鈥檚 swells and the stench of ship holds during miserable transoceanic journeys in which many sicken and die. With visceral immediacy, O鈥橣arrell channels the terror of arriving in a strange land, ragged and famished, without family, friends, or funds. But she also captures the solace of love, music, and kin.

鈥淟and鈥 is a magnificent achievement. Already cinematic on the page, it is bound like 鈥淗amnet鈥 to translate powerfully to film.