A powerful voice in Irish writing returns with an evocative novel illustrating once again the misery, pain and ruined lives caused by the sexual abuse scandal prevalent within the Catholic Church from the 1950's. Victor Forde is now a lone single man who spends part of each day in Donnelly's public house. He makes the acquaintance of Fitzpatrick, who he instantly takes a dislike to. There is something strange and unwarranted about this individual, that wakes some very painful memories in the mind of Forde, and in particular the time he spent as a child within the care of the Christian Brothers. What is astounding and memorable about "Smile" is the author's direct, compelling brutal and unforgivable method of storytelling. This makes me want to revisit classics I read many years ago and in particular The Van and the wonderfully titled Paddy Clarke ha ha. It is so refreshing to read his simple style of prose that forms an instant connection with the reader, and makes him loathe and pity Forde in equal measures. ..." a man of my age going back to some wrinkled version of his childhood. Looking for the girls he'd fancied forty years before"...."I was so bored, so heavy with the physical weight of it, I could have cried"......"Do you want it? No, thanks, I said. It was nice talking to you she said. She died five months later."..."It was the last time I slept in my mother's house and it was the last time I went for pints with the lads. Two of them are dead. I miss them like I miss my father."..... The conclusion of this story was never going to make pleasant reading, it was unforeseen, sudden and yet an apt and fitting ending to a novel that will remain with my for many weeks and months. A monumental achievement and a welcome return to one of Ireland's most talented of writers. Many thanks to Random House uk and netgalley for a gratis copy in exchange for an honest review and that is what I have written.

Recently separated, Victor moves into a flat near to the part of Dublin he grew up in. Adjusting to life on his own, he doesn’t seem to be looking for old haunts or friends but rather something similar enough to make him familiar with the nods and nuances of those he is mixing with. He is somewhat put out then, when he meets Ed, who recognises Victor from school but who Victor can’t place. While puzzling over Ed and tentatively trying to start over in his fifties, Victor narrates a first person life story that takes in his past and present in a naturalistic, non linear fashion. While you anticipate that there has to be something darker going on here, linked to Victor and Ed’s shared years at a boys only secondary school with the Christian Brothers, the end reveal is no less surprising. In fact I immediately reread the entire book just to see how I didn’t see what was in front of me the first time. Anyone more perceptive than I am won’t need to do this, but I enjoyed both times immensely, if for different reasons. It is a long time since I have read any book twice in one week and can’t wait for friends to catch up with me so we can discuss it. The dialogue, effectively a soliloquy, is immediate building an assured picture of Victor’s inner and outer life that is in keeping with his place and years. The matter of fact in style deftly shows how talk and humour can be used to deflect painful memories or distance oneself from difficult emotions. They are both a coping mechanism and a further means of denial. A deceptively simple tale that shows the worst lies can be the ones we tell ourselves.

Smile tells us the story of Victor Fforde, recently split up from his glamorous (and well-known) partner, as he adjusts to single life by contemplating his childhood, career and relationships over a pint or two in his new local. His new local is, in many ways, an old local as he has moved back to the poorer side of Dublin. He is aided and abetted in this by Eddie Fitzpatrick, an old classmate from his days being taught by the Christian Brothers: he can’t quite place Fitzpatrick in his memories and is, frankly, repulsed by the man but he can’t seem to avoid him. The book itself is short, a mere couple of hundred pages, but it packs quite a punch in terms of its description of brutal religious schooldays, passionate relationships and, in passing, attitudes to reproductive rights in Ireland. The ending is unusual for the author – a bit odder than you might expect – but the story itself is pure Doyle.

I am a huge fan of Roddy Doyle and couldn’t wait to get my hands on an advanced copy of this. I won’t say that I was disappointed, because that’s inaccurate, but it certainly is unlike any of his earlier work. There is the comforting familiarity of the Dublin dialect and the humour of the Barrytown Trilogy, and the unreliable narratives and lack of knowing of The Last Roundup Trilogy. There’s the familiar themes: the church, the 2008 financial crash, the football, the pub. That's where the similarities end. Victor is an aspiring writer. Or more, Victor is supposed to be an aspiring writer, although his aspiration is limited. He was half of a new ‘celebrity’ couple: she ran a successful business; he mentioned abortion and contraception on the radio. Now he’s a single man in his fifties, trying to find his place in the world of his childhood. This return from the affluent Northside to his childhood Southside also returns him to the trauma of his childhood; the death of his father, and abuse at the hands of the Christian Brothers who were responsible for his education. He meets a man called Fitzpatrick in the pub who seems to repeatedly hound him, insist he knows him and Victor accepts this. These men share a past, he thinks. And then comes the twist, that felt like a punch in the stomach. I not only doubted Victors sanity, but my own - had I read the novel wrong? Had I missed something? Nonetheless, this is an incredibly accomplished and powerful short novel; combining the wit of Barrytown and the gravity of the subject matter of The Woman Who Walked Into Doors.