By Paul Murray
Significantly exciting and outright hilarious, Paul Murray’s debut heralds the arriving of an incredible new Irish expertise. His protagonist is endearing and wildly witty–part P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster, with a cantankerous sprint of A Confederacy of Dunces’ Ignatius J. Reilly thrown in. With its rollicking plot and colourful characters, a night of lengthy Goodbyes is a pleasant and erudite comedy of epic proportions.
Charles Hythloday observes the realm from the comfy confines of Amaurot, his kin property, and doesn’t a lot deal with what he sees. He prefers the black-and-white sanctum of vintage cinema–especially whatever starring the attractive Gene Tierney–to the roiling and rumbling of twenty-first-century Dublin. At twenty-four, Charles goals to resurrect the misplaced way of life of the aristocratic nation gentleman–contemplative walks, an ever-replenished drink, and afternoons packed with canapés as ready by way of the Bosnian housekeeper, Mrs. P.
But Charles’s comfortable life is ready to stand a major shake-up. His sister, Bel, an aspiring actress and hopeless romantic, has dropped at Amaurot her such a lot recent–and to Charles’s brain, such a lot ill-advised–boyfriend. Frank is hulking and around, and resembles not anything rather a lot as a wide cloth cabinet, most likely a Swedish one. He bets on greyhounds and talks without end of brawls and pubs in an accessory that brings tears to Charles’s eyes. And, such a lot suspiciously, his front into the Hythlodays’ lives simply occurs to coincide with the disappearance of an ever-increasing variety of family antiques and baubles.
Soon, Charles and Bel realize that lacking heirlooms are the least in their concerns; they're easily now not as wealthy as they've got consistently believed. With the relations fortune teetering within the stability, Charles needs to do whatever he swore he might by no means do: get a task. Booted into the suggest streets of Dublin, he's as unprepared for genuine lifestyles as Frank will be for a cotillion. And it seems that genuine existence is a tad unprepared for Charles, as well.
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Additional info for An Evening of Long Goodbyes
Jjj Happily I still have sleep, and still have my soft memories. Someone wise once told me that memory could be divided into near and far categories, but for me the kinds of memory are hard and soft. Soft comes by itself, slipping in through the curtains in rays and slanting or beaming across empty floors suddenly, breaking the dark. Whereas hard memories are assignments. Remembering some rules is hard, and times and procedures, and the numbers that people are given in long sequences of digits.
I did not wish him to be embarrassed by the deformity. I knew about deformities since I now had a foot that was not as footlike as other feet. ” I would console myself saying, for all the closeness it is a very small penalty. And finally I thought: the way gone people talk to the living ones in words they leave behind or other things they make, the living can talk between themselves more easily, with no words at all. So this is what we are doing. So between the living and the living there is the closeness of skin, the touches that go without words, or past them.
I never could understand it. But all through my happy life there has been no better thought than to try. The end of the universe and being gone, both of them forever. Anyway, after fifteen minutes, when Jim had smoked his two cigarettes, it was inside again for me. “Hop hop hop,” Jim would say. ” So twice a month I got to leave my room behind, and leave the walls, and corners, and plaster, and the artificial lights and metal furniture. I got to abandon squareness, which is not a shape that happens often of its own accord, except in crystals growing beneath the scale of sight.
An Evening of Long Goodbyes by Paul Murray