|
 Passion Play
Cónal Creedon
Poolbeg Press,
1999
£6.99
'Passion Play' by Cork writer, Cónal Creedon, is a beautifuliy wrought surreal novel, deeply rooted in Cork and full of humour. It suggests a passionate affair with the author's home town which he describes lovingly - even though it is very much the underbelly of the city that he explores. And boy! does he explore it. From the bells of Shandon to the grandeur of St. Finbarre's cathedral, Creedon's protaganist, Pluto, positively relishes everything from a blast of strong coffee in Iago's in the English Market to a pint of the black stuff in the Hi-Bi bar on Oliver Plunkett street.
However, you don't need to be from Cork to enjoy this book. The various themes, from alienation to unadulterated joy, are universal and indeed, as Pluto points out, when you stand on Patrick's bridge, you could be at the centre of the universe!
Creedon has an unerring talent for dialogue - no doubt helped along by his years as author of the Cork local radio soap, 'Under the Goldie Fish'. 'Dis, dat, dese and dose' litter the pages. You almost find yourself singing along to the words and the accent.
On page 195, Pluto is actually dead - a result of his slashing his wrists in his grimy flat. But in another sense, he is still alive and the author takes him on a kaleidoscopic odyssey, where dreams merge with reality, and where philosophical conundrums emanate from the crazy colourful mind of Pluto. '....if we call an orange an orange, why don't we call an apple a green', he muses at one point in the book.
'Passion Play' takes place over a three-day period but traverses a whole life time. We are introduced to Pluto's idiosyncratically named friends (most of whom are losers) such as Fatfuka, Pinko and Herman, the German. There are some hilarious escapades related by Pluto involving the friends: simple childhood memories, like trying to get into the cinema through the fire exits without paying (because all the lads' money is gone on Consulate cigarettes - 'like vodka, they don't smell' - and that wonderful Cork mineral, Tanora) and being caught by the cinema owner leading to mayhem, are what makes this novel so funny. Yes! the anecdotes from the past are great gas and I detected a re-working of some of the stories from Creedon's first book 'Poncho and Lefty ride out.'
But 'Passion Play' is more than a merry romp around inner city, Cork. There is nostalgia and regrets and some achingly beautiful and poignant pieces of writing, such as on page one: 'When I was three years of age my mother went down to Pope's Quay. She sat on the bench across from the Dominican Priory, took off her rings and shoes, walked down the steps into the river Lee and drowned herself. She could have crossed the road to the church, but I suppose she must have tried that once too often. Nobody ever told me, I just always knew, but sometimes I wished they had lied, for Christ's sake they lied about everything else. Why the hell couldn't they have lied about my mother? Tell me she died saving a beautiful white swan and that the swan lives on to this very day and winters each year in the Lough out by Ballyphehane, where she rears one small downy baby cygnet. Tell me the swan comes back to Cork each autumn as a sign of respect to a courageous and beautiful woman who sacrificed her life that the most graceful of God's creatures should live. Tell me a lie.....'
The above is a fine piece of writing which seduces the reader to read on.
|
