The Dirty Dust: Cré na Cille (The Margellos World Republic of Letters), by Máirtín Ó Cadhain
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The Dirty Dust: Cré na Cille (The Margellos World Republic of Letters), by Máirtín Ó Cadhain
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Máirtín Ó Cadhain’s irresistible and infamous novel The Dirty Dust is consistently ranked as the most important prose work in modern Irish, yet no translation for English-language readers has ever before been published. Alan Titley’s vigorous new translation, full of the brio and guts of Ó Cadhain’s original, at last brings the pleasures of this great satiric novel to the far wider audience it deserves. In The Dirty Dust all characters lie dead in their graves. This, however, does not impair their banter or their appetite for news of aboveground happenings from the recently arrived. Told entirely in dialogue, Ó Cadhain’s daring novel listens in on the gossip, rumors, backbiting, complaining, and obsessing of the local community. In the afterlife, it seems, the same old life goes on beneath the sod. Only nothing can be done about it—apart from talk. In this merciless yet comical portrayal of a closely bound community, Ó Cadhain remains keenly attuned to the absurdity of human behavior, the lilt of Irish gab, and the nasty, deceptive magic of human connection.
The Dirty Dust: Cré na Cille (The Margellos World Republic of Letters), by Máirtín Ó Cadhain- Amazon Sales Rank: #382725 in Books
- Brand: Yale University Press
- Published on: 2015-03-24
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.75" h x 1.13" w x 5.00" l, 1.08 pounds
- Binding: Hardcover
- 328 pages
Review “[An] earthy, poetic, and darkly comic masterpiece . . . with its exhilaratingly free-wheeling celebration of all that is worst in human nature.”—Adam Lively, Sunday Times (Adam Lively The Sunday Times 2015-03-22)‘Among the best books to come out of Ireland in the 20th century… it bristles with black comedy’—Max Liu, the Independent. (Max Liu The Independent 2015-03-21)“A classic Irish novel, the translation of The Dirty Dust was long overdue. Alan Titley's vigorous translation fits the dialogue-intense work well . . . The Dirty Dust does a great deal within the limits of its inspired premise.”—M.A.Orthofer, Complete Review (M.A.Orthofer Complete Review)“A novel of almost unbelievable invention, humor, pathos, eloquence, and fury . . . dazzlingly funny and creative . . . [an] amazing book.”—David Mehegan, Arts Fuse (David Mehegan Arts Fuse)“The gaggle of characters who step into and out of The Dirty Dust's driving conversation have nowhere to go, as they've already been tucked into caskets in the local graveyard. But death hasn't deprived them of their voices . . . The Dirty Dust imagines an afterlife still filled thick with words—and one well worth prying open.”—Colin Dwyer, NPR (Colin Dwyer NPR)“[The Dirty Dust] is a cacophony of voices that reveal a place and its people. Its world is sad and beautiful, and the talk is endlessly entertaining.”—Jan Gardner, Boston Globe (Jan Gardner Boston Globe)“For a novel that takes place six feet under ground, Ó Cadhain’s The Dirty Dust is quite the lively affair . . . Alan Titley’s translation resuscitates it wonderfully for an entirely new population of modern day readers to ponder over and enjoy.”—Aaron Westerman, Typographical Era (blog) (Aaron Westerman Typographical Era)‘Like many Modernist texts and art works The Dirty Dust, mixing energy and exhaustion, makes up its own rules, and it depends on the reader, and indeed the translator, to decipher them as we go along. Titley deserves our gratitude for making this novel available in English for the first time...’—Colm Toibin, Irish Times. (Colm Toibin Irish Times 2015-04-01)‘The high energy of the Irish masterpiece is translated to another kind of energy...Titley is one of the few — in the world — who possesses the necessary combination of linguistic and literary skills required for the task, and he has made a difficult work readable and accessible in more ways than one.’—Éilís Ní Dhuibhne, Financial Times. (Éilís Ní Dhuibhne, Financial Times 2015-04-11)“Never mind that all of the characters are dead, The Dirty Dust is full of life.”—Michael Dirda, Washington Post (Michael Dirda Washington Post)‘…O’Cadhain’s greatest accomplishment, it seems to me, was to achieve a perfect synthesis of style and subject. It’s a lesson still being absorbed that small Irish towns are utterly unsuited to the conventions of literary realism, and in opting instead for this anarchic symphony – the book is a kind of wind machine blowing out gales of yammer and yap – he evolved a narrative structure capable of snagging the native genius of such places.'—Kevin Barry, the Guardian. (Kevin Barry The Guardian 2015-04-16)“Irreverent and raucously funny . . . Titley’s translation is sensitive and vibrant . . . courageous and timely . . . By exhuming Ó Cadhain’s zany chorus of cadavers, Titley has opened this masterpiece to the wider audience it so richly deserves. May it not rest in peace.”—Niamh Ní Mhaoileoin, The Millions (Niamh Ní Mhaoileoin The Millions)“[A] rollicking romp . . . Shocking, uproarious, and heartrendingly tender by turns.”—Cindy Hoedel, Kansas City Star (selected as a favorite book of 2015) (Cindy Hoedel Kansas City Star)“A ceaseless and often hilarious torrent of chatter and bickering . . . By allowing his characters to speak only after they have died, Ó Cadhain removes his characters’ need to dissimulate, laying bare aspects of humanity we might wish to forget.”—Eric Jett, Full Stop (Eric Jett Full Stop)NPR has included the title in its year-end “Book Concierge,” an online “Guide to 2015’s Great Reads.” It is one of the staff picks, thanks to Colin Dwyer, who praises this “foul-mouthed gabfest between corpses in a small-town graveyard” for “its playful turns of phrase—and remarkably inventive profanity” that give the book “a lot of bawdy life.” (NPR)“The Dirty Dust is a feat of translation: vigorous and fun, each line rendered with idiomatic aplomb . . . Titley, like Ó Cadhain, is an accomplished wordplayer.”—William Brennan, New Yorker (William Brennan New Yorker)
From the Author “Cré na Cille is a work of daring imagination, filled with sly comedy. Using the voices of the dead, it dramatises the battle between life and death, time and infinity, the individual and the community. It is filled with gossip and banter, all the more lively because the voices live underground. It is the greatest novel to be written in the Irish language, and is among the best books to come out of Ireland in the twentieth century.”—Colm Tóibín “Cré na Cille—The Dirty Dust is a brilliant title—is a modern masterpiece that has remained locked away from non-Irish-speakers for too long. Alan Titley was just the man to put it into English, and I welcome this wonderfully vivid and vigorous translation.”—John Banville, author of The Sea and Ancient Light “In 1949 Dirty Dust shook the dust from the Irish-language novel’s feet and revealed graveyard corpses distracted by local jealousies and petty disputes assuming global importance. Sounding the death knell of pastoral romances, this modernist Irish masterpiece is hilariously funny yet scathingly honest. Titley’s audacious adaptation offers the most popular and influential twentieth-century Irish-language novel in translation.”—Brian (Breen) Ó Conchubhair, University of Notre Dame “Alan Titley’s translation has the idiomatic speed and eagerness of the original. It has a composer’s grasp of tempo and of thematic signature. It is finally through it that we begin to see the nature of Ó Cadhain’s achievement. Now, with Titley's wonderful translation, the great novel lives again.”—Seamus Deane, author of Reading in the Dark and Field Day Anthology of Irish Writing
About the Author Máirtín Ó Cadhain (1906–1970) is considered one of the most significant writers in the Irish language. Alan Titley, a novelist, story writer, playwright, and scholar, writes a weekly column for The Irish Times on current and cultural matters.
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18 of 19 people found the following review helpful. Another time, another place By David Wineberg The Dirty Dust is eavesdropping at a party in the early 1940s in western Ireland. The party goes on forever, with different guests striking up conversations here and there. There is no coherence, no drift, and no point. They are all dead, and this is their cemetery. It is fantastically busy underground, at least as far as conversation. They relive old battles, reopen old wounds and perpetuate old wives tales, grudges and rumors. To be a fly on this wall makes your head spin.There is no narrative (except for a short, generic introduction to each chapter); it’s entirely dialogue, though mostly monologue. The speakers are not identified unless you infer from the response to an accusation or a question. They are fiery, hard cursing, bitter and vengeful. They are in short a small Irish community where everyone was in everyone else’s business all the time.There’s a lot of bitterness at being buried in the half guinea or the 15 shilling section rather than the one pound section, except none of them is certain that’s true, being underground and all. When someone new joins them, they ask about where they ended up and who came to the funeral. And then criticize them. The newly arrived feed the fires with the latest from aboveground.There was no radio, television, telephone, texting or internet in western Ireland in the 1940s. There was no disengagement. A big city cemetery in 2015 would be, shall we say, much quieter. No one would know anyone buried there. In this cemetery, it’s as if nothing had ever stopped, but now the gloves come off, as there’s no longer any need for politeness.There are running jokes, and everyone is a caricature. The best line in the book: ”May I not leave this spot if I am telling you a word of a lie.” So good O Cadhain used it twice.The Dirty Dust is an entire soap opera in one condensed, closepacked package.David Wineberg
12 of 12 people found the following review helpful. Before Beckett, before McDonagh... By John L Murphy The most important prose work in Modern Irish, Máirtín Ó Cadhain's Cré na Cille has never before been published in English. This 1949 novel, as Alan Titley introduces his blunt, bold rendering into our language, carries the flow of chatter "you might hear outside a door when everyone inside is tearing themselves apart; or in a country churchyard in the light of day". The title resists easy equivalence, although "churchyard clay" has long served as as its English echo for critics. Titley, a skilled writer and critic in Irish, prefers the biblical resonance of ashes and soil, for this narrative takes place entirely in a Connemara cemetery, as its interred bicker and boast among themselves.It was inspired by a report in the author's native West of Ireland where a woman was buried inadvertently atop her rival one day too rainy for the gravediggers to bother with niceties. An onlooker mourned: "Oh holy cow, there's going to be one almighty gabble!" Ó Cadhain set his novel, akin to what Titley calls switching channels between various conversations on a radio, in townlands he knew well in County Galway, near the Atlantic shore among its Irish-speaking community. Then, that language was still connected to those in the nineteenth century who had spoken no other. The author did not hear English until the age of six. Rich in imagery, curt in tone, this dialect of Irish can be difficult for those who encounter it today. Titley prefers a conversational, casual tide of chat, cursing, and reverie to wash over Ó Cadhain's characters. This eases the reader's challenge. The author plunges us immediately into a fictional tale told in dialogue and interruption.Yet, even if Caítríona Paudeen's new arrival among the dead makes her by default the protagonist, the buried characters surrounding her six feet under crowd her out. Many of her neighbors resent her airs. It is best to let this rattling narrative roll on, rather than resist its banter or weary of its nagging. As a downed French pilot now and then complains in his own native tongue (untranslated): these scolds bore him. He had hoped to find peace in death, but the tomb seems not to be dead at all. Rather, the foreigner, struggling to figure out the meaning of the babble around him, finds it betrays the same old ennui. Sympathizing with his plight, I found myself drifting along as the voices resounded and receded. It's not hard to give way to them as background noise rather than scintillating exchanges.The liveliest portions open most chapters. The "Trumpet of the Graveyard" summons souls to a reckoning. Ó Cadhain contrasts the joys of the living with the dread of the dead. He also here evokes the intricacy of Irish-language verse by departed bards: "But the flakes of foam on the fringe of a surge of a stream are slurping in towards the shallows of the river where they slobber on the rough sand." The alliteration and end-rhyme give way as they ebb into brutal phrases, and a sudden stop.Meanwhile, without fresh news to filter into the soil, insults and laments repeat. No effort at organization lasts long; a Rotary Club, an election, a cultural society all flounder. Jonathan Swift's prediction of "a road on every track and English in every shack" threatens the isolation of the village. Its cadaverous inhabitants debate a medieval prophecy attributed to St. Colmcille about the signs of the world's end. This sense of doom deepens in the novel's vague duration during the middle of the Second World War. The corpses debate, as did their real-life counterparts, the comparative merits of the Germans and the British as allies for officially neutral Ireland. The Antichrist's return is rumored.The talking dead are uncertain if D-Day has occurred. Only with the internment of the newest arrival, Billy the Postman, do the rest learn that none of their graveside crosses are made of Connemara marble. The dead had asserted this, each trying to put down the others, so as to boost their own status. That incident concludes this novel. Its recurring themes of discontent and rivalry dominate whatever moments of tenderness and solidarity remain after village life has given way to common death. In this sobering depiction of a determined counter to the stereotypes of Irish rural relationships, native son Maírtín Ó Cadhain in his native language sought to correct myth with truth. As ably translated by Alan Titley, the results recall Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot and Martin McDonagh's play, both of which feature this same milieu, as they include too the telling phrase of "a skull in Connemara".
9 of 9 people found the following review helpful. You'll love the rhythm of the prose, the cadences of the insults and vernacular, and the intricate portrait of the upheavals. By Bookreporter One of the joys of book reviewing is that, every once in a while, you come across a work you hadn’t heard of and weren’t expecting, and that work is so surprising and delightful that you can’t wait to tell others about it. Not long ago, I received a copy of THE DIRTY DUST, a 1949 novel originally written in Irish by Máirtín Ó Cadhain. I hadn’t heard of Ó Cadhain but learned, thanks to blurbs from Colm Tóibín and John Banville and from my research, that he was one of the most celebrated Irish-language novelists of the 20th century. As I began reading, I understood why this novel, now in its first-ever English translation, was so notorious. How often does one encounter a book in which all the characters are dead and buried? THE DIRTY DUST has as many characters as a Robert Altman film and creatively profane language that anticipates the vulgar poetry of David Mamet.But all of this would have been nothing more than a gimmick, as would Ó Cadhain’s decision to tell his story almost entirely in dialogue, if it hadn’t been for the novel’s higher purpose. Set during World War II, THE DIRTY DUST is a vivid portrait of prejudice and class conflict in rural Ireland at a time of upheaval so immense that not even bickering neighbors in their graves can stop talking about the changes and injustices taking place above ground.And, boy, do these people like to talk. Many of the characters in this devastating satire are the types of people who say, “But to cut a long story short,” and then proceed to talk at length, with as many details and digressions as possible. Anyone who expected to rest in peace after dying didn’t know the noisy neighborhood he or she was moving into. In fact, graveyard placement is one of the more contentious topics. Ó Cadhain begins the novel from the perspective of the freshly dead Caitriona Paudeen. She tells us that she hopes she’s in the Pound Grave, the one that costs the most to be buried in. Her relatives better not have stuck her in the Fifteen Shilling or, heaven forbid, the Ten Shilling plot, where the poor or just plain cheapskates stick their loved ones. What kind of world is it, Caitriona wonders, in which she dies first --- she was 71 --- and her rotten sister, Nell, lives on and stands to inherit the money of their oldest sister, Baba, who is alive and well at age 93 in America? Nell may be my sister, Caitriona says, “but I hope and pray that not one corpse will come to the graveyard before her.”You’d think that death would put an end to woe and resentment, but not for this crew. Caitriona and others fret that their graves won’t be graced with crosses made of the coveted Connemara marble. She worries about her son, Patrick, whose wife is a lousy housekeeper and probably won’t care for him properly now that Caitriona is gone. The deceased schoolmaster fears that his wife will break her promise to him and remarry. A woman not known for her intellect stands for election in the Fifteen Shilling plot, much to the horror of Caitriona and others.But amidst all the pettiness and squabbles involving people with names like Blotchy Brian and Huckster Joan, more serious topics are debated. There’s talk about the IRA. Some people lament that their children married Italians or blacks or, in one case, a “slylock Jew [sic].” And some of these residents of the dust debate the pros and cons of Hitler’s march across Europe.This is not a book you read for plot. Little happens, and the structure of the chapters gets repetitive after a while. Someone new dies, and he or she updates the other corpses on events above ground. The middle chapters begin with a reckoning of sorts from someone who calls himself The Trumpet of the Graveyard. And sections often end with Caitriona learning of some new indignity and shouting, “I’m going to burst!”But what carries you along in THE DIRTY DUST is the rhythm of the prose, the cadences of the insults and vernacular, and the intricate portrait of the upheavals of the mid-20th century. The wisdom of this canny, extraordinary book is its recognition that some situations are so overwhelming and engender such a feeling of helplessness that all you can do is talk about them.Reviewed by Michael Magras.
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