Brennan pulls back the curtain and reveals ugly Ireland
Although The Springs of Affection is styled as a collection of short stories, 21 to be precise, this is not really the case. It is a three-part story, each containing its own cast of recurring characters, each separate from the other, but all borrowing heavily from Brennan’s upbringing in suburban Dublin in the 1920s.
The first of these three parts is practically autobiographical - Brennan neglecting to even change the names of some family members (her sister Derry features frequently). There is a great whimsy and joy in these early recollections; the drama of a neighbourhood fire, the solemnity of Maeve’s First Confession and the utter seriousness of not just her sins, but the accompanying penance; and the rarified excitement of a raid on the house by British soldiers.
One might imagine the latter being an upsetting incident, but in Brennan’s hands it’s a frivolous affair, a break from the daily routine of school, homework and chores. Entitled The Day We Got Our Own Back, it sees the British descend upon the Brennan household in search of Maeve’s father Robert. Frustrated by his absence one of the soldiers turns to the young Maeve and asks if she knows where her father might be.
Quickly admonished by Maeve’s mother, scolded for involving a child in an adult’s matter, the soldier backs down. Yet the nine-year-old girl is secretly thrilled at being included.
‘I was spellbound with gratitude, excitement and astonishment that the strange man had included me in the raid.’
The humour and playfulness of these early stories continues in the following two parts, but it is accompanied by a darkness, a bleak portrait of womanhood in old Ireland. In part two we meet Herbert and Rose; married, middle-aged and miserable. She is depressed, delusion, fallen into despair following her son’s departure to the priesthood. He is distant, conceited, insecure and selfish.
Their mutual loathing is never expressed, never addressed. Instead it just lingers in the two-up, two-down home they share, manifesting itself in the only thing they truly share: paranoia, fear that the other is scheming against them somehow.
In An Attack of Hunger this silent war explodes into life, a mundane everyday task the catalyst for a uncharacteristic argument and a hurtful revelation. Accidentally setting his newspaper ablaze while trying to light the fire, Herbert is put to task by his wife.
‘First you drive my son out of the house, then you try to burn the place down around my ears, around my ears!!’
This outburst compels Herbert to reveal that John left not because of his father, but to get away from Rose and her constant hen-pecking.
Part Three features the Bagots; Delia and Martin. He works late, sleeps in the spare room and can’t decide if his family is an ‘ anchor or a burden’. Delia’s life centres around her children, the house and her dog Bennie. The Sofa describes the arrival of a transformative piece of furniture, while Christmas Eve offers a rare glimpse into Brennan’s softer sider. Be warned, these stories do not make for easy reading and lay bare uncomfortable truths.