The Granta Book of the Irish Short Story - review

The nice people at Granta sent me a copy of The Granta Book of the Irish Short Story because they 'thought I'd like it'. I do like it - thank you, Granta! So I thought I should repay them by reviewing it here. So here goes:

Will I do the clichéd reviewing-an-anthology thing and lament the excluded writers? Wail about the story that should have represented X writer? Moan about the fact that anthologies usually represent who the writer is friends with/connected to, rather than who is actually writing and publishing short stories at the time? No, I won’t bother. This is very much Anne Enright’s personal selection. She read hundreds of stories for this book – I have no doubt that she took her task seriously and, here, she presents the stories that stayed with her, long after reading them. Her foreword is cryptic in the way only Anne Enright can be cryptic. She appears to say that the English are not great short fiction writers – or does she? She is also provocative in that she takes issue with Frank O’Connor’s assertion that the short story is about the lonely and ‘submerged populations’.

I’m a huge Enright fan and I enjoyed reading her introduction to the book, even if I didn’t fully get all of it. She has, as always, interesting things to say. Consider, for example her assertion that ‘if the short story is a national form it did not seem to flourish in the national language of Irish, where all the excitement, for me at least, was in poetry.’ Agh – what about Liam Ó Flatharta’s Dúil? Or Peig which was essentially a collection of stories? (Or am I unique in that I enjoyed Peig?!)

But I love what she says about John McGahern’s stories: ‘[they] are the literary equivalent of a hand grenade rolled across the kitchen floor.’ Brilliant.

My heart fell to my boots when the opening story by Michael McLaverty was about nuns. Groan. Ireland is not all about religion and alcohol – really! Anyway, I read the story. It broke a few ‘rules’ of writing, for example, it shifted viewpoint throughout and it was overloaded with characters. But, do you know what? I enjoyed it. It zones in on the claustrophobia and pettiness that always seems to surround convent life; it highlights the childish nature of many nuns; it focuses on one event, which is what any good short story should do. The story ends predictably, but so what? Sometimes there is comfort in that.

There's a nasty little story from Roddy Doyle and a not very convincing one from John Banville but all in all there's a tempting selection in the anthology. I like that Maeve Brennan is included and Mary Lavin, but I would have loved more modern stories.

I wonder if this book was rushed out in the end – the copyediting and proofreading is poor. Claire Keegan’s name is spelt wrong twice and there are odd gaps left around the ellipsis here, there and everywhere. It’s enough to drive a reader mad! And for anyone who thinks I’m nitpicking – perfection in presentation is crucial (ask Noah Lukeman). I would have thought that Granta would be top-notch when it came to such issues.

There is a sense of the usual suspects about this book – only one name was not familiar to me: Jennifer Cornell. Wouldn’t it be lovely to open an anthology and be introduced to heaps of lesser known writers? None of the writers represented here is under 40 years of age either. That, I think, is unfortunate and an oversight. I would also have liked to see Emma Donoghue in the book and, maybe, Des Hogan.

There, I did end up doing the clichéd thing but maybe, when reviewing an anthology (however briefly), it can’t be avoided. Would I encourage you to buy it? Well, if you are not familiar with Irish short fiction of the 20th Century, yes. If you're looking for ultra-contemporary Irish short stories, not so much. But it's a good overview of many of the writers who paved the way for the rest of us and for that alone, it's worth the investment (€18.89 from The Book Depository, delivered). Or maybe Santa Claus will be gifting it this year.