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seth-the-book-dragon · 2 years

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Leonard and Hungry Paul by Rónán Hession, published 2019 by Bluemoose Books.

The title characters of Leonard and Hungry Paul are two unremarkable thirty-something-year-old bachelors ambling though their lives. What makes Rónán Hession’s 2019 novel remarkable, is the tender yet humorous way it is written. This is very much a novel about introverts and the fear of your world getting smaller around you as everyone else’s gets bigger.

The novel opens after Leonard has lost his mother. Having lived with her all his life, he is left trying to figure out where his life goes now that his carefully structured days have a hole in them. Leonard writes children’s encyclopaedias and enjoys board game nights with Hungry Paul. They meander through their individual lives and take the time to enjoy moments of peace. Their lives are very simple. Despite this, there is plenty of conversation between the men whose thought stretch to the wider world and humanity and space.

“Their conversations combined the yin of Leonard’s love of facts with the yang of Hungry Paul’s chaotic curiosity.” says chapter two, as both men are sat at the kitchen table puzzling out how to play Yahtzee and discussing how Edvard Munch’s painting The Scream isn’t actually of a man screaming, but of a man blocking his ears from someone else screaming. You finish this book with handfuls of useless knowledge you didn’t have before.

Leonard is “a shy only child of two shy only children” and so it is in Hungry Paul’s family that he seeks companionship. Hungry Paul’s mother Helen is a busy but big-hearted primary school teacher, and his father is an agreeable retired economist. His sister Grace is enthusiastic but stubborn and getting married to a peaceful man called Andrew. This novel is filled with quiet and unassuming but pleasant characters living their lives.

Neither Leonard nor Hungry Paul seek to make their lives more full or more interesting throughout the story, though their lives do grow and evolve as time wears on. Rónán Hession talked to Ryan Tubridy this April and said “Throughout the book each of the characters goes through change I think with Hungry Paul, perhaps reader goes through the change.” It’s interesting to have a protagonist who has few goals bar being happy, whatever that means to him. The plot generally revolves around Leonard getting used to existing in a world without his mother, and Hungry Paul’s family helping with his sister Grace’s wedding.

The book alternates point of view – passing between Leonard’s perspective and Hungry Paul’s knowledge, and occasionally we see inside the head of his sister Grace. They are three very different people with Leonard wanting to get on with life, Hungry Paul living very much in the moment and Grace dashing about with work and wedding preparations. The shift is refreshing to read but not jarring as the narration continues to be told with the same direct register, only tinted slightly by each character’s outlook.

Leonard is a man who doesn’t want to cause bother but as the novel progresses, he begins to stand up for himself a little more. We see some of that in the way he talks about slipping things past the authors of the encyclopaedias in places they don’t care about – things he thinks are more interesting for the children.

“Whenever he lost some argument about content, he would try and make up for it by being more stylish or by sneaking in a phrase that he thought a kid might enjoy learning or asking their parents about, like ‘eyeballing’ or ‘frogmarch’.” – Leonard, who has been a lifelong fan of encyclopaedias, is determined to write something that will make children interested in what they’re reading. He dreads a child picking a book he has worked on and putting it down again because it is boring, and then becoming uninterested in history for the rest of their life.

Leonard says that he prefers being in the background, but he is quite chuffed when he encounters someone who recognises his work. He spends a lot of the chapters dedicated to his workday complaining about the way the authors don’t understand children and thinking about ways he would improve what they finally accept.

Hungry Paul works part time as a postman. When we meet him, he has just started learning judo. He gets roped into visiting people in the hospital by his mother who is also a volunteer. He doesn’t appear to have much ambition and is content with his small life alongside his parents. Hungry Paul, like Leonard and his encyclopaedias, is a mine of random and mostly useless information. He learns of a competition to find a new, universally acceptable, sign-off for emails that is somewhere between formal and friendly. This sparks an interested conversation about sign-offs during a game of Scrabble with his parents and Leonard, though Hungry Paul is the only one of them who enters the competition.

In an interview with Patrick Freyne, Hession credits the books he read to his children with inspiring this book. Children’s books in particular, he says, ask us “Is there a way to be in the world, given the world is the way it is? How do I engage with the world without it overwhelming me?” These are very much the questions that Leonard and Hungry Paul ask each other, amid shopping for wedding suits and figuring out to play board games they won’t read the instructions for.

Leonard and Hungry Paul’s lives fill a small space. They mostly revolve around each other, work, and Hungry Paul’s family but this does not mean they are uninterested by the wider world. They pay attention to and question current affairs, recent historical discoveries and space, but also throw in existential queries that may cause the reader to pause for a moment and realise that yes, that is something truly unexplainable, and wonder how they went so long without questioning it. While talking to Ryan Tubridy on his radio show this April, Hession said that “Throughout the book each of the characters goes through change, I think with Hungry Paul, perhaps reader goes through the change.”

Rónán Hession’s style is quite straight forward and plain though he has a skill for evoking character with very few words. In terms of style and his sauntering way of exploring ordinary adults’ lives, Hession’s writing is similar to Fredrik Backman, though this book does not have the comic edge that Backman’s do. Instead it offers anecdotes from the characters’ past that don’t always feel necessary/.

One truly enjoyable thing about Leonard and Hungry Paul is the way Hession places these ostensibly mundane lives next to broader universal truths. Every character feels like someone you might have once known, and the lack of place names leads the reader to set the story in their own town. There is some part of Leonard and Hungry Paul and Grace in ourselves. Hession said in an article he wrote for the RTÉ:

“It should feel not far from here and now, wherever that is for the reader. In order to focus on traits of human nature that are easily overlooked – or crowded out – it was important for me to make space in the narrative, and so there are no locations, no surnames, few physical descriptions and a sparing use of idiomatic expressions. After all, if writing Leonard and Hungry Paul has taught me anything, it’s that we can easily miss what we are not looking for.”

Leonard and Hungry Paul is the kind of book that would appeal to people who used to be children who read encyclopaedias and people who enjoy doing activities to clear their head.

Rónán Hession works for the Department of Finance and has been working in the music industry as Mumblin’ Deaf Ro for over twenty-five years. Leonard and Hungry Paul is his first novel. His second, Panenka, was released in summer 2021 and a third is in the works already. He lives in Dublin City with his wife and two sons.

#leonard and hungry paul #ronan hession #rónán hession #irish writer #book review #irish fiction #contemporary fiction #adult fiction

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weirdworldofwinnie · 6 months

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A Safe Way Out

Jonathan Breech x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only)

Summary: You're a very shy patient at the psychiatric hospital and the newest inpatient part of the therapy group has to be the cutest man you've ever seen, and he takes an interest in you, but he's not quite as innocent as he looks.

Word Count: ~3,384

Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex), loss of virginity/innocent reader, cum squirting, oral (fem receiving), mental illness, past trauma, talk of depression and suicide, some angst, language

Disclaimer: This just fantasy/fiction, I do not own anything from the 2001 Irish film On the Edge starring Cillian Murphy.

Breech, Jonathan.

He was surely the prettiest person you'd ever witnessed admitted to this institution that he could make both men and even women jealous, even though his pajamas were ill-fittingly too short and he had a cocky attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the staff and other patients, but he wasn't a total asshole... at least you hoped.

At the couple of group therapy sessions he attended he was rebellious, giving the always tired (but very patient) Dr. Figure grief through ample sarcasm that made you stifle smirks, but as usual you never spoke much, being selectively mute unless you were forced to answer a question from Dr. Figure. They didn't give any drugs to dope up; the doctor didn't think you nor the small group you were part of needed them, but sometimes you wished they would so you didn't have to participate in these stupid sessions that went in half-spun circles and could just conk out in your room or outside.

You had been submitted here by your estranged parents after a series of concerning events that you had tried to mentally block out, including attempting to take your own life because of bullying and abuse; you were not able to ever acclimate fully to society because of it, which led you to being stuck in this place, mentally spinning wheels while growing more and more wary of the outside world everyday. Jonathan was the opposite; he had a spark of defiance and a fire you didn't have enough oxygen for to nourish for yourself. He clearly didn't think he really belonged here and in a way, you sort of admired him even if he was a bit strange and potentially dangerous... He was certainly an exciting refresher in such a dull, day-to-day drudgery.

One day after walking out of yet another mildly frustrating therapy session, he stepped in front of you in the hall as you were making your way back to your room alone, a curious light in his stunningly blue excuses for eyeballs.

"Hey, you mind if I join ya in your room?" he asked suddenly and you froze, uncertain of how to react. You only ever minimally interacted one-on-one with people you trusted... Fellow patient Nick kept saying Jonathan wasn't to be trusted, but Nick was also kind of a paranoid weirdo that always was listening to his headphones, so what did he know?

Jonathan seemed to sense your hesitation and he grinned, trying to put you at ease or maybe he was just messing with you. Either way, you had to hide your intrigue in case he was pulling your leg.

"Don't look spooked out, I'm just so fucking bored at this place and you're pretty cute, but you never really talk... I just wanna get to know ya better," he explained sincerely, but you still felt wary.

"Can I see your room at least?" he asked innocently and you finally gave him a shy nod, causing him to smile in broad relief that reminded you of the last rays of sunlight splashing upon the cliffs.

He walked along beside you, swinging his arms back and forth a bit as if he was winding himself up, all the way to your room and past an orderly who gave him a suspicious glance, but you gave the man a thumbs up to let him know it was fine. Security here was surprisingly not as strict as one would imagine for a psychiatric hospital and the younger patients tended to sneak out once a week to the city with minimal repercussions. They always came back anyway.

You reached your designated room and opened the door slowly, and Jonathan strolled in after you, sighing loudly.

"Oh, would'ja look at that - they gave you the fanciest room they've got," he commented sarcastically as you sat down on the small bed, tucking your knees up to your chest and he stood, surveying you and scene for a second and then joining to sit, copying your posture. He fiddled with his slippers for a minute and then turned to you curiously.

"So lemme get this right: You only talk when or if you have ta?"

"Yeah," you mumbled and he nodded sagely.

"That's an interesting way to deal with people. Don't blame ya, lot of wanks out there not worth being spoken to. What's your name - I mean, I know it from the meeting, but can you say it?" he asked, however unlike any doctor, it wasn't clinical or judgmental. He truly seemed interested and so you whispered your first name aloud to the floor.

"It's a nice name. How old are you?" You could hear the smile in his deep voice.

"T-Twenty two," you responded with a slight stutter, too fluttery to be able to meet his gaze.

"Fuck, that's older than me... I'm nineteen, but you know already know that. You ever been anywhere outside of Dublin?"

You looked away, not answering. If you ever had, you'd been too small to remember.

"How long you've been here?" he asked curiously and you splayed your hand, palm up towards him.

"Five weeks or five years?"

"Years," you whispered and he was silent for a few minutes, picking at the hem of his baby blue pajama pants.

"So much for the road to recovery, eh?" he scoffed and you just shrugged.

He put his legs down, feet flat on the floor and crossing his arms tight to his chest, wearing that oversized silly orange patterned sweater of his. He sniffed and bit his lip, glancing up at the bare ceiling as if he would find the answers to existence there.

"Something happened to you, I know. Shit, something happened to us all here. It's okay if you don't wanna or can't talk 'bout it. But I can't figure out if you have the same thoughts me and the others have? You know, what the doc locks us up for... suicidal? Like there's no fucking point to this blip of existence? And they think we're nuts, but we just seein' the truth."

You slowly pulled up your sleeve, exposing the faint scars etched into your left wrist, remnants of cutting attempts to escape life before you had been dumped off in this place indefinitely. You had never tried it since and were now an adult and could seek the means to leave if you truly wanted to, but there was nothing out there in the world for you.

"See this pinky finger?" Jonathan asked suddenly, poking up his baby finger and you nodded, interested.

"I was just trying to get rid of what was left of me old Da and the damn car didn't do the job right. Could've broken neck but all I broke was me baby finger. Least you've got the scars there to prove survivin'." He sighed heavily, almost disappointed, and you spoke the first sentence you had in days, your voice hushed from disuse.

"Why do ya wanna die?"

He blinked, giving you a meaningful glance and his full lips stretched into a tight ironic smile.

"I don't want to die; I don't want to be alive. I'm just a fucking living ghost, we all are... Doesn't that realization scare the wits outta ya?"

He looked away at the wall, blinking as the drippy tears escaped and his mouth quivered in quiet anguish, his dewy face scrunching up. You reached over and touched his cheek, catching a tear rolling down his smooth pallid skin and wiping it off tenderly. He sniffled, embarrassed, and gently took your wrist and whispered emphatically.

"I like you, Y/N. You don't freak out or talk down to me or bitch about your own problems. You're unique, but I'm thinking ya too cute to be truly crazy."

"Cute?" you repeated and he grinned at hearing your high breathy voice.

"Don't be so afraid to talk, you got a pretty voice. Bet nobody be calling ya cute in a long time, right?"

You shrugged sheepishly and he tilted your chin up with his fingers, tracing the outline of your face fondly and you blushed, not used to being touched by anyone like that. It was... comforting, a feeling you had been very numb to for some time. His pinkish lips parted and he tilted his head slightly, mouth gaping in anticipation for a kiss but you froze, unsure and not wanting to take the lead.

"I want a kiss," he murmured and the way he said it made you draw closer, trusting the process. He closed his eyes and blindly groped your lips, sucking, and then his tongue dove in with a surprising force, swirling around your mouth and he gripped the sides of your head in a vice, cutting off any resistance... Not that you were repulsed in any way once the initial shock wore off.

He broke away after several seconds, gasping and licking his lips hungrily.

"Mm, didja like that?"

Your cheeks became pink and he glanced over your head at the windowpanes being pattered with a steady rain and it was growing dimmer outside, evening approaching with a cloaking storm, and it reflected in the dull colors of the room that was becoming muted of natural light.

"Can I show you something?" he asked huskily, shifting on the bed restlessly.

You ducked your chin in affirmative, heart fluttering in uncertainty as he reached to yank his sweater and pajama shirt over his head, leaving him with a bare chest. You stared, fascinated in his anatomy; it had been so long since you'd seen anyone without some clothing on. He grinned, pointing awkwardly to your own chest.

"So, uh, now this... this'll be the part where you remove your garment," he instructed and cautiously, you unbuttoned your pj's and you never wore a bra, so soon he was facing your naked breasts with your nipples hardening from the airy exposure.

"Really cute," he breathed, gently putting a finger to your right nipple and pressing lightly, stroking around the center and then drawing a line to the other breast, doing the same to that one and you shivered, feeling a strange pull in your stomach that was borderline butterflies. He leaned back, bouncing up slightly on the bed and kicking his slippers off to the floor.

"But hold on, there's more to see," he said with a verging mischievous excitement. You'd never seen him look so genuinely joyful and as he tugged down his pj bottoms, you blinked, faced with a protruding bugle in his white underwear.

After a beat, he removed his boxers, springing forth a stiff appendage that you'd never in the flesh on a man, well, in its erect state at least.

"Want to touch it? It doesn't bite," Jonathan joked with a lazy grin and you cautiously extended a hand and put your fingers on the glistening tip. It was definitely moist and firmly solid, and he shuddered through a breath of arousal.

"Wet," you observed and he laughed, scooting closer so his penis was resting in your hands.

"I like it when you touch me there, don't stop," he begged and you felt him up, amused at his reaction.

He twitched in your palms as you ran careful fingers up his fleshy length and to his balls, lightly petting the coarse dark hair nesting around them, and he shivered pleasurably, resisting the urge to already ejaculate.

"Feelin' good?" you asked fondly, seeing his mouth agape and eyes nearly rolling back.

"Too fuckin' good, need to stop before I cum too quick. Wanna enjoy this... Lemme have at that pussy of yours now instead of using me dick, m'kay?"

You could tell it wasn't a question, but you weren't sure what he meant entirely. You eased off his genitalia, cock dripping slightly, and sat back, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Here," Jonathan murmured and his hands went to your waist, teasing down the waistband of your pj's and pushing the pants down your legs, letting you wiggle out and kick them to the floor, along with your slippers. He stared for a full ten seconds at your womanhood, biting his lip and swirling his tongue around his mouth, before he bent down and spread your legs apart. You tried to ask him what was going to happen, but he dove in already, tongue flicking at your delicate folds with attempted precision. You gasped audibly at the new sensation and he clamped hands down on your thighs, clinging on as he maneuvered his thick tongue faster and you grabbed at a fistful of his hair, shaking from the unfamiliarity and equal anticipation as your body seemed to take control of natural instincts and budding arousal grew stronger.

He just wanted to warm you up though, and he withdrew his tongue soon, lips glistening with a tiny smear of discharge. Your bare chest rose and fell in rhythm as he surveyed the fresh terrain, just aching for more. You very well might be a complete virgin and that prospect tantalized him yet also privately frightened him of messing up. Of course he'd been with girls before, but they weren't this sheltered and sweet. He may corrupt you and alter the course of this extremely new friendship, which in his mind was always meant to become more of a relationship; the moment he saw you he knew he needed to get in your pants.

"Eh, give it a go," Jonathan told himself forcibly and his finger jerked onto your entrance, worming in needily and making you squeak in surprise. He shushed you, zipping his lips with his free hand, giving you a clear message that it wasn't wise to make unusual noises. Even though it wasn't like there was cameras in the rooms, one couldn't be too careful. If Dr. Figure found out his newest unstable patient, the same one that pledged not to kill himself before New Year's Eve, was somewhat taking advantage of a virgin he just met in her own room, the doc would be most displeased.

Nevertheless, whimpers escaped from your throat as he pressed further to your clit and moved another finger to join the first, uncomfortably stretching into your walls. Despite the stinging pain, you felt an decent amount of wetness pooling from your vagina, almost like peeing, and clenched reflexively, hitting his knuckles.

"Oh, I'm thinking it's ready," he whispered impatiently, wriggling his digits away with a squelch and wiping your light drizzle of cum on his cock.

Before you could react, he adjusted position and slid on top of you, pressing his body down onto your bare one and rubbing his full cock in-between your thighs.

You gasped when he began to shove in rather roughly, squirming into your tight unbroken hole and you looked up at his face, watching his hair askew slightly and you noticed a scar above his eyebrow you hadn't noticed before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid to get pinned underneath him, and tried to buck and roll with the motion, but it was getting painful.

"Hurts," you whimpered into his ear as he thrusted further.

"Not gonna hurt in a minute, baby," he whispered, too in heat to stop and consider much else and he clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle any more alarming noises.

"C-Can't go-go all the way in," he panted, his skin slapping yours and rocking the whole small bed.

Sure enough, the pain became more bearable though the more he worked you and pleasure eventually overturned it altogether, the bursting bloom of an orgasm that was very likely the best feeling that had ever happened to you. You sank your mouth on his shoulder to stifle a cry, careful to not bite too deeply, and then mewled into his neck, panting heavily along with him and digging your fingers into his brown scrubby sideburns and floppy hair.

"Mm, fuc-fucking good, ya likin' it, eh?" Jonathan choked out in a whisper and you couldn't respond, too taken by this incredible euphoria and the way his cock flexed inside close at your cervix. You weren't sure how long he could stay in without it becoming too uncomfortable, but he lifted up slightly, grunting softly at his own arousal and effort.

He pulled out just in time, finishing outside by squirting hot ropes of milky cum all over your vagina, stomach, and legs. The bedsheets took a few splatters as well and he heaved in relief as you laid there, utterly stunned at his sexual performance. You had squirted a little bit too and it had intermixed with his juices that you couldn't tell which was from whom. It was so intimate and gross and a big part of you absolutely loved it, having never been in such a situation before... It was exciting and playful.

He swiped two fingers through the fluids and spread it on your thighs further, encouraging you to feel it as well and you giggled at him taking your own fingers and guiding them up to his face, dotting his chin with cum.

Jonathan then sat back on his haunches and admired you, catching his breath and listening to the steady patter of rain. You rolled over onto your side and your eyes widened at a couple spots of blood on the sheets and he looked down in causal observance.

"Ah, that'd be normal, don't worry," he assured with a chuckle.

"Though, uh, maybe we'd better try to hide it case they come collect the sheets tomorrow," he realized on second thought.

"I say I been bleeding, on my cycle," you offered as an explanation.

"Yeah, that'd be good cover," he agreed and climbed off, picking up his clothing and shimmying back into the pajamas and sweater.

"Look, I'll get us some towels or somethin' from the bathroom," he said, walking quietly to the door and opening it with a peering glance out, but the coast was clear. Most patients should be in their rooms by now anyhow.

You relaxed in a post-orgasmic trance while he was gone, listening to the dripping weather outside and wondering how you'd be able to be normal around him tomorrow.

The door squeaked open softly a couple minutes later and Jonathan came back inside with a bundle of torn sheets of toilet paper clutched in his hand.

"Couldn't get towels, so I took some shit paper that'll have ta do instead," he announced with dry amusement and he used it to wipe you clean of the wet mess and you thanked him quietly, grateful to be dry again for it had become rather cold and tingly on your skin. You automatically flinched a fraction when he wiped at your folds, as you were raw and sore, but he was fairly gentle. When he finished, Jonathan moved in very close as if for a kiss, but only whispered near to your ear, tickling your earlobe with his warm breath.

"Don't tell anyone about what we did... just a little secret, m'kay? Though I guess you wouldn't be blabbin' to anyone else anyway," he chuckled darkly, but it wasn't mean.

"Maybe we can see each other again?" he proposed as he balled up the soiled toilet paper and retreated back towards the door.

"Okay, Jonathan," you whispered in reply and he flushed at the sound of his name on your lips.

"I think you'll be my new therapy, better than anything that wanker of a Freud psychiatrist can offer." He paused, shuffling his feet and then glanced up daringly, determination in his blue orbs.

"We'll find a way out soon, a safe way out, me and you and Rachel and Toby... and I'll show you how to have a good time at the pub, eh? Like the sound of that?"

You only smiled as he turned to exit, but then abruptly paused and bit his lip as he looked back at you with a yearning, like what the two of you had just done still wasn't enough.

"Abair do phaidreacha agus codhladh sámh," he spoke in Gaelic and you translated back softly with a meaningful smile.

"Say your prayers and sleep well."

With a dip of his head and smug, yet almost childlike smile, Jonathan ducked out the door and was gone for the night.

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scuffedgrannysblog · 2 years

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Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney

An intense book told from the perspective of Frances, about her affair with a married man, but is, ostensibly, more about her

Sally Rooney has been on my radar after watching Normal People on the TV, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Actually, enjoyed is probably not the right word as that implies fun and lightness, but as with Conversations with Friends, her stories are not really what I would call easy: they are close examinations of the intricacies and complexities of relationships and the people involved in them and I…

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#Book Review #Complex relationships #Conversations with Friends #Good read #Irish fiction #Rachel Deeming #Relationships #Sally Rooney #scuffed granny #Scuffed Granny Reviews

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fightingwithallreality · 11 months

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Shamrock Queen or Always Reddy (1947) written by Marguerite Henry, illustrated by Wesley Dennis

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blogmollylane · 5 months

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Newly acquired: The Undetectables by Courtney Smyth

#fiction #reading #books #currently reading #ya novels #fantasy #mystery #thriller #the undetectables #irish writer #Irish fiction #Irish female writer #Courtney smyth #lgbtq+#paranormal #urban fantasy #witches #ireland #comedy

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ballyhubbock · 4 months

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Murder in Maspalomas

Extract from my novela "Murder in Maspalomas" a page turner thriller

Matt watched the tall slim blonde return from the outdoor smoking area, her two-year-old “wobbler” walking slightly ahead of her. He caught the woman’s eye and she read his thoughts and despised him for them. He’d only stepped into Burger King to while away 40 minutes before boarding his flight to the Canary Islands. Most of his fellow passengers were escaping the cold of an Irish winter. He…

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#dublin drugsgang #Escape to the sun #holiday murder #irish fiction #Murder in Maspalomas #Short Story

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have-you-read-this-short-fiction · 5 months

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#novella #novellas #carmilla #sheridan le fanu #19th century literature #english language literature #irish literature #have you read this short fiction?#book polls #completed polls

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thefugitivesaint · 2 months

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Gerard Quinn (1927-2015), ''New Worlds'', Vol. 6, #17, 1952 Source

#Gerard Quinn #irish artists #new worlds #new worlds magazine #scifi art #science fiction art #orbs #ponder the orb

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lets-get-lit · 3 months

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Partings are strange. It seems so simple: one minute ago, four, five, he was here, at her side; now, he is gone. She was with him; she is alone. She feels exposed, chill, peeled like an onion.

- Maggie O'Farrell, Hamnet

#quotes #books #literature #lit #classics #academia #light academia #dark academia #chaotic academia #book #book quotes #quotation #Maggie O'Farrell #Hamnet #Fiction #Historical Fiction #Irish

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alienejj · 3 months

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On Reading and Books

I took these pictures myself. Some of these books are old, some were just poorly handled over the years, and all were thrifted across the second-hand stores of Dublin.

Here I link every post I make on quotes, musings, and letter extracts from authors to do with books and reading. I keep it up to date.

I own books of all genres, so from fiction, you can expect: high fantasy, urban fantasy, classic literature, modern classics, short story anthologies, poetry, translated fiction, Asian fiction, Middle Eastern fiction, North African fiction, African fiction, Western fiction, Irish fiction, myth and folklore retelling, historical fiction, murder mysteries/crime fiction.

And from non-fiction, you can expect: European history, African history, Irish history, Asian history, Middle Eastern history, Islamic history, biographies and memoirs (of classic authors, world travellers, queens, and empresses), science, female health, culture and anthropology, self-help, psychology, on writing, on reading, myth and folklore, travel memoirs.

As such you can expect quotes from authors of various backgrounds.

These are short posts, made up of the extract ill quote from the author and then a picture I've taken of books from my home library.

Marcel Proust.

J. R. R. Tolkien.

Donna Tartt.

Franz Kafka.

Vladimir Nabokov.

William Faulkner.

Ian McEwan.

Italo Calvino.

Virginia Woolf.

Smell of Books.

Cats n Books

Charles Dickens.

Jules Verne.

About Me

Bookblr Masterlist

Bookish Thrift Finds Masterlist

I reblog bookish content and since I have a home library I also make bookish content myself; aesthetic book pics, reviews, recommendations, quotes, excerpts, hauls and cats.

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seth-the-book-dragon · 2 years

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Leonard and Hungry Paul

I asked, a few weeks ago, if anyone I knew had recommendations for Irish fiction that wasn’t absolutely miserable, and this was exactly the kind of book I had been hoping for. Leonard and Hungry Paul is a hard book to try and talk about because I keep getting the urge to push the book into your hands and say, “just see for yourself”. It is a story about ordinary people living ordinary lives, meeting other ordinary people doing ordinary things. The word that comes to mind when I try to describe it is ‘peaceful’. It is a meandering, ambling, quiet novel but Rónán Hession tells it in such a manner that you are never bored.

The book is set in an indeterminate time, in an indeterminate place. I presumed it was early 2000s outside a large-ish town but Rónán Hession leaves it vague so as to make it more widely relatable. The book isn’t trying to make you puzzle out where and when its set. The idea is that the book is set somewhere you are familiar with. It is as close to ‘normal’ as one can get.

“In fact, it is not specifically located anywhere. Its themes are intended to be universal, and so everything takes place in an unidentifiable 'everywhere.’ It should feel not far from here and now, wherever that is for the reader. In order to focus on traits of human nature that are easily overlooked – or crowded out – it was important for me to make space in the narrative, and so there are no locations, no surnames, few physical descriptions and a sparing use of idiomatic expressions. After all, if writing Leonard and Hungry Paul has taught me anything, it’s that we can easily miss what we are not looking for.” - https://www.rte.ie/culture/2021/0407/1208398-one-dublin-one-book-ronan-hession-on-leonard-and-hungry-paul/

Both Leonard and Hungry Paul live somewhere outside society’s expectations. They are men in their thirties who live with their parents, are not married nor do they have any plans to be, and their hobbies include whiling away the evening with board games. Leonard is a ghostwriter for children’s encyclopaedias and Hungry Paul is a part-time postman (only on Mondays). I think I read somewhere that someone described it as a love letter to introverts, but I can’t find it so maybe I said that, and in a way it is. The Chicago Review of Books called it a coming-of-age story for the already aged.

Leonard and Hungry Paul live quiet lives and don’t seek to make them more full or more interesting throughout the story, though their lives do grow and evolve as time wears on. Rónán Hession talked to Ryan Tubridy this April and said “‘Throughout the book each of the characters goes through change I think with Hungry Paul, perhaps reader goes through the change.” It’s interesting to have a protagonist who has few goals bar being happy, whatever that means to him. The plot generally revolves around Leonard getting used to existing in a world without his mother, and Hungry Paul’s family helping with his sister Grace’s wedding.

Niamh Donnelly has a review in the Irish Times where she says, “The book triumphs in this unassuming rebellion, and ultimately the appeal to live in the now, appreciate the little things, treat life not as a duty to some external expectation, but as something to be enjoyed, is a relevant one.” Leonard and Hungry Paul review: Dorks in a time of pithy millennials (irishtimes.com) The book – and mostly Hungry Paul I must admit – asks us to take a moment. Not for anything in particular, just because we can.

The main point of the book is the importance of friendship, and supporting those you care about. We get that on a basic level in the way everyone tries to support Grace as she plans her wedding, but also in the way Hungry Paul’s family try to help him find a job, or motivation – get out there a bit more. Near the end Hungry Paul – in classic form – comes out with a wise and thoughtful piece absolving his family of the responsibility of him.

“Whatever happens I Will do my best. If you’re here I will do my best, if you’re not here I will do my best. There’s no use planning for what you’re trying to plan for. I know that, more than anything, you would like me to see the world your way, to wake up to your way of looking at things and to become the version of myself that you’re most comfortable with. But then what? Are you going to keep checking in on me every few months to make sure I haven’t drifted? How are you going to ensure that once I’m fixed I stay fixed?” (p205).

This is all said while Hungry Paul and his sister clean their teeth. The characters are kind and all strive to do their best to improve the lives of other people – Hungry Paul’s mum volunteers at the hospital to spend time with the patients there who may be lonely, Hungry Paul’s father worries about his speech at the wedding and how he can tell Grace how much he loves her without it being embarrassing for her, and Leonard uses his writing to make his new friend Shelley and her son happy.

In Yashwina Canter’s review for BelieverMag.com she says “In this novel’s vision of kindness, there is room both for making mistakes, and also for making them better oneself.” believermag.com

Rónán Hession doesn’t absolve his characters of guilt. Leonard in particular makes a blunder in his budding relationship with Shelley. Rather than blame her for Leonard not understanding what he had done wrong, he talked to Hungry Paul and – after giving her space - attempted to show Shelley that he was receptive to making amends. Rónán Hession gives Leonard that space to think about things and solve them himself - by talking and understanding where the other person was coming from.

Rónán Hession drags you in right from the first sentence – “Leonard was raised by his mother alone with cheerfully concealed difficulty, his father having died tragically during childbirth.” He has a wonderful way of writing that you slide into various characters’ points of view without hardly noticing. Hungry Paul comes out with incredibly deep thoughts and realisations from nowhere, and I often found myself amused by the way Rónán Hession chose to phrase things. It’s matter of fact and more insightful than you expect.

"I ended up making a mess of things and now she probably thinks I'm hopeless and that it was a blessed relief that she found out when she did, even if it hurts her feelings in the short run." "The short run can often be full of feelings," said Hungry Paul sagely. (p170)

Leonard and Hungry Paul is not like any of the books we read for this course – it is nearly the inverse of many. Leonard and Hungry Paul focuses on love and friendship and being there for each other – things that definitely aren’t found in The Dark, and which are tenuously found in messy ways in Country Girls, Milkman and Girl Is A Half-Formed Thing. Leonard faces the death of his mother like Stephen Sexton, but Leonard’s mother is elderly and dies naturally when Leonard is an adult.

I think it is interesting how the book covers all choose to feature a sunfish – something that is mentioned only once yet sums up so much of the essence of the book.

"Peter [Hungry Paul's father] had always said that Hungry Paul was Helen's [Hungry Paul's mother] 'sunfish'. Years ago, before they had kids, Helen and Peter visited the aquarium in Monterey, California. [...] Among the lithe coral reef sharks, alien jellyfish, and camouflaged rays, was what looked like a floating, severed head: a large, lopsided, sideways swimming fish, with reflective skin and a slightly lost expression on its face. It was a sunfish and Helen said it was her favourite. [...] Though she didn't say so, he realised that she had picked the sunfish as her favourite because she knew no one else would pick it." (p45)

The Independent had a nice piece on that scene and Niamh Donnelly, who wrote the article, completes the paragraph by saying “Similarly, this book doesn’t expect more from its characters than to be what they are.”, which I think is a wonderful way to put it. Like the sunfish the characters are allowed to be a little bit lopsided from society, a little bit lost.

I loved the book. I really enjoyed reading it – felt like a break from work, a break from busyness. Rónán Hession paused life, just for a little while. It reminded me of Fredrik Backman’s writing – especially A Man Called Ove – in a lot of ways.

Rónán talking to Ryan Tubridy - specifically from 7:30 to 8:43

#book review #leonard and hungry paul #rónán hession #ronan hession #irish fiction #contemporary fiction #irish writer

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