โIt seemed as if the town of Carn, a huddled clump of windswept grey buildings split in two by a muddied main street, had somehow been spirited away and supplanted by a thriving, bustling place which bore no resemblance whatever to it.
For a split second, she saw her own death, a gunmetal face fixed on the sky, all around the faces and voices of Carn as she had known it. Josie Keenan had come home to the town of Carn, the only home she knewโ
โA unique record by somebody who understands that the reality of small-town life is as important in literature as any aspect of Ireland . . . a savage, raw and bitter honesty . . . I know no Irish writer with such an obvious, extraordinary talentโ Dermot Bolger, Sunday Independent
โPowerful, precise writing โ Patrick McCabeโs Carn introduces one of the most promising writers in a long, long timeโ Bill Buford, Granta
โResolute . . . the writing is raw and didactic. His story bears the hideous ring of authenticityโ Guardian
โStylishly narrated, but with the chronological forthrightness that comes as a benison after some modern novelsโ London Review of Books