Wait, wasn't this Roddy Doyle's great Irish novel? Well, no, not really and to be fair, Doyle has never so much as pretended it was. While The Last Roundup is undeniably epic, it is at its core the story of an Irish man and not the Irish country. It's not the same thing, you see, but that won't stop some critics from taking a few shots at Doyle for losing the symbolic fault line that constantly shook Henry's world in his debut.
In fact, Henry's transplant to America is a very Irish story and even a very American one. At its best, it tells in a specific manner the equally shaky story of upheaval and salvation that every immigrant brings to the American melting pot. Of course, in Henry's case, he does just what runaway murderers do, what he promised at the end of his first book. He starts over.
In fact, Henry's transplant to America is a very Irish story and even a very American one. At its best, it tells in a specific manner the equally shaky story of upheaval and salvation that every immigrant brings to the American melting pot. Of course, in Henry's case, he does just what runaway murderers do, what he promised at the end of his first book. He starts over.
In a funny little nod to Joyce, Henry becomes a sandwich-board man. Of course, like Henry, Doyle himself nearly had to go on the run following an interview last year in which he suggested that Joyce could have used a good editor. The event was blown vastly out of proportion on both sides of the Atlantic but it really is part of Doyle's charm. While Henry's voice is quintessentially Irish, Doyle never uses it to make icons out of his historical trappings and by taking the piss out of giants, he brings them back down to a more human, more understandable level.
One would think that New York in the twenties would be a hotbed for literary invention, especially with someone as hot-blooded as Henry Smart, but Doyle bravely takes New York out of Henry's picture quickly as Smart is chased out of the city by a violent mob boss. Moving Henry to Chicago gives a whole new landscape for Henry to play in, from the meatpacking plants of the South Side to the swinging jazz joints transforming America's musical sensibilities.
One would think that New York in the twenties would be a hotbed for literary invention, especially with someone as hot-blooded as Henry Smart, but Doyle bravely takes New York out of Henry's picture quickly as Smart is chased out of the city by a violent mob boss. Moving Henry to Chicago gives a whole new landscape for Henry to play in, from the meatpacking plants of the South Side to the swinging jazz joints transforming America's musical sensibilities.
Oh Play That Thing is a little more hardboiled than A Star Called Henry, which was just barely tinted with Ireland's deathly romanticism, but it is a hardboiled time as well. Flappers, speakeasies, bootleggers and even more mobsters scar the Chicago landscape of the time and Doyle deftly recreates and repaints Henry's world in this new palette of concrete and sawdust.
It is also permeated with the spirit of jazz. Ironically, the man who had one of his Commitments tag jazz as utter shite has his literary fingers firmly on the pulse of the bebopping jazz sound. Hired as muscle for the whipsmart, talented but then unknown Louis Armstrong and Satchmo becomes a distinctive voice of the book. It is in Armstrong's company (during a burglary, no less) that Henry is even reunited with his lost wife.
It is also permeated with the spirit of jazz. Ironically, the man who had one of his Commitments tag jazz as utter shite has his literary fingers firmly on the pulse of the bebopping jazz sound. Hired as muscle for the whipsmart, talented but then unknown Louis Armstrong and Satchmo becomes a distinctive voice of the book. It is in Armstrong's company (during a burglary, no less) that Henry is even reunited with his lost wife.
Yes, you would be right to say that events in Smart's life are starting to look a little too coincidental but for sheer storytelling bravado, there is nothing quite like it. Doyle starts to steadily move Henry forward on his journey. He takes Henry onto the great American rails soon made famous by Woody Guthrie and into the care of filmmaker John Ford. Even as Henry swears to return to Irish soil to tell his story, he's back on the road. Only Doyle knows where we're going and we will have to wait for the next installment to find out.
Go west, young man.
Go west, young man.
