Reading Well: The Dirty Dust by Máirtín Ó Cadhain

The Dirty Dust, published in Máirtín Ó Cadhain‘s original Irish as Cré na Cille in 1949 and translated into English by Alan Titley in 2015, rests on a fantastic premise: after the residents of a small Irish town die, they remain as spirits in the graveyard, carrying all of their social concerns–the alliances and grievances, the foibles and the gossip mongering and the attempts at reconciliation–with them.

The story is told in three registers: chapters often open with a short, elegiac statement by “the voice of the graveyard,” but most of the story is either jumbled snatches of overlapping conversations amongst the buried or conversations occurring with the lead character, Caitriona Paudeen, one of three Paudeen sisters, but the only one that is buried in the graveyard. A new burial occurs in most chapters, adding a character to the mix, and eventually it becomes clear that Caitriona’s perspective on events is only one of many, and perhaps unreliable at that.

The central conflict of the book is Caitriona’s deep and consuming hatred for her sister, Nell. This plays out in several streams: concerns over the pending reveal of the will of the third sister, who has moved to America and done well for herself; whether Nell or Caitriona will have the grander funeral and grave marker; and what will happen to Caitriona’s land and house with Nell angling for their use and possession.

But that’s not really the point of The Dirty Dust. Instead, it’s the constant conversation, the often hilarious, often hard-to-follow overlap of reminisces and arguments, revelations and insults that fly around the graveyard. Issues of social status, of class, and of the relationship between a largely closed-off village and the wider world all play a part.

I think The Dirty Dust could make a side-splitting play: the characters are all there, and the book, as much as any I’ve ever read, is meant to be read aloud, with different voices for the characters. It’s not an easy book to read: it takes close attention to track who is speaking and why and what their relationship is to the extended Paudeen family (her in-law’s play a significant role as well).

The language–coarse and direct at times, but also overflowing with the rhythms and patterns of Irish–of the book is a wonder, and often the sheer energy of it carries entire scenes that would otherwise lag. Characters become recognizable through their favorite curse words, or their obsession with a sporting match they missed by dying weeks too soon, or their purported-yet-highly-disputed ability to drink 42 pints at one sitting.

If that sounds like your cup of tea, The Dirty Dust will prove entertaining and enjoyable; if reading dialog for 200 pages is not for you, nor is this book.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

Master idiom with this much ease. It’s very hard to write in a linguistic tone, yet keep the book accessible to those unfamiliar with that dialect, whether it’s urban slang, the awkwardness of a foreign language, or an entirely invented culture. Titley’s translation manages to remain readable, but also always generates a feeling of being deeply grounded in a unique culture, a tribute I would assume to both his work and Ó Cadhain’s source material.