Walk the Blue Fields

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That cliff is on the seaward side of a winding road high over the Atlantic ocean on the western edge of the island of Achill, itself perched on the western edge of the island of Ireland.

Once again — Claire Keegan’s outstanding immersive writing is layered deeply with disturbing complexity. These stories are pure magic. They add, using grace, intelligence and an extraordinary ear for rhythm, to the distinguished tradition of the Irish short story. They deal with Ireland now, but have a sort of timeless edge to them, making Claire Keegan both an original and a canonical presence in Irish fiction.”— Colm Tóibín, author of Brooklyn Praise for Antarctica: Walk the Blue Fields may be among the best books you will read this year. . . . Keegan’s writing offers stark, intelligent flourishes and a look into the heart of rural Ireland, gurgling with desolate undercurrents.” –Vikram Johri, St. Petersburg TimesI know that road, that cliff, that island, from childhood holidays, so it was with a little racing of the heart, a little skip, a little hop over the edge into a well of forgotten memories that I read the first story in this collection. Keegan is so good at conjuring place that I was there on the edge of the cliff, peering over the rim of the world alongside the woman watcher, feeling the wind whip my eyes and the salt burn my lips while the waves filled my ears with their tremendous sound. Achill really is such a wild outcrop. Anything can happen there, and ideas for great short stories are no exception. I think you'd rather have to be Irish, preferably rural Irish, to really get everything there is to get out of the 8 stories in this collection, however. Such simple sentences. But, everything is carefully constructed and builds to the exact mood of the piece. It's a very brilliant short story - as good as one by Chekov.

Both stories are well-written but I also didn’t feel anything strongly towards either of them. They’re not nearly as compelling as some of the others or seem to be about anything.Ana akım batı edebiyatı değil de -hani o "bireyin modern toplumdaki sıkışmışlığı ve varoluş sancılarını" anlatanları kastediyorum- daha kıyıdaki yaşamları, özellikle taşrayı anlatan öyküleri daha çok seviyorum.

For non-Irish, terms and even entire sections of dialog can be hard to follow or downright unintelligible, making it difficult to appreciate scenes or interactions which may (or may not) be key to understanding. Yerel çünkü İrlandalı, son kelimesine kadar hem de! Bu kadar yerel bir dil ile anlatılan bir o kadar evrensel! Kısa cümleler ve nefes alan her canlı hikayeye dahil tüm dağ taş ağaç deniz ve mavi tarlalar! He’s not a terrible human being, necessarily, but he is gruff and selfish, maybe to be seen as a traditional (which is to say selfish, patriarchal) Irish male. He yells at her for her spending “my money on roses,” and so flowers play an important part in making meaning for her sad life. Hope lurks somewhere in almost all [Keegan’s] stories. . . . You start out on the paths of these simple, rural lives, and not long into each, some bit of rage or unforgivable transgression bubbles up . . . Then the truly amazing happens: Life goes on, limps along, heads for some new chance at beauty.”— Los Angeles Times Book Review The land, which is a source of wealth and spirituality, also epitomizes duty, heritage and binding roots that imprison the main characters in the jail of their own resignation. And so they live with a conflicted sense of belonging that is naturally paired with alienation, which doggedly morphs them into natural exiles in their native country.Claire Keegan’s brilliant debut collection, Antarctica, was named a Los Angeles Times Book of the Year and earned her resounding accolades on both sides of the Atlantic. She continues her outstanding work with this new collection of quietly wrenching stories of despair and desire in modern-day Ireland. Sanırım porsuk ağacı gördüğüm zaman üçüncü okumamı da yapmış olacağım. Çünkü onun da adı kitapta geçmekte:) Even more unsettling was “The Parting Gift”….involving incest and the uncomfortable acceptance in the way the story is told. Perfect short stories . . . flawless structure . . . What makes this collection a particular joy is the run and pleasure of the language.”—Anne Enright, winner of the 2007 Man Booker Prize, The Guardian