THE LAST WORD
By Pat Coughlan
Back in the bustling 1970s, Dublin was alive with an energy that was just infectious, and it was during this time that folks, like me, stumbled upon Flann O’Brien’s At Swim Two Birds. Tucked away among the city’s famous schools and buzzing bars, this book’s quirky storytelling caught the eye of anyone who loved a good cultural gem. I was working in the Post Office and a group of us who liked reading became firm friends. There was two Micks, two Pats, a Liam and a Tony. We became collectively known as the ‘Culture Vultures’.
Flann O’Brien’s masterpiece was first published in 1939 but I only got it in 1976. I still have the copy I bought in Eason’s. I still vividly remember diving into its unique tales, getting lost in a mix of humour and depth that spread out like Dublin’s own winding streets.
O’Brien’s imaginative flair really struck a chord with literature buffs, sparking lively chats in smoke-filled rooms where fans quoted lines with the passion of a preacher giving a sermon. This wasn’t just another book to throw on the shelf; it was a game-changer that shook up the idea of storytelling with its cleverness and flair. For those of us hungry for something truly original, it marked a turning point—a time when the old rulebook was tossed out the window. In those electrifying times, At Swim Two Birds became more than just a read. It was a celebration of Dublin’s creative heartbeat, forever captured in ink and imagination.
The way he layers the stories is like watching a skilled weaver at work — it’s impressive. Now, O’Brien [pictured], who also went by the name Brian O’Nolan, didn’t just tell stories the usual way. Oh no, he liked to mix things up and play with the whole idea of what a story could be. He pulled readers into a world where what’s real and what’s fiction got all tangled up. By playing around with traditional storytelling, he built a world of stories within stories. It’s the kind of book that makes you think about reality and fiction as if you’re having a lively chat in a cozy pub in Kilkenny with Jimmy Rhatigan or our very own Gerry Moran.
The characters leap off the page as lively and quirky representations of Dublin’s everyday oddities, each one adding a sprinkle of reality to the story. For instance, consider the character of Dermot Trellis, a writer whose creations rebel against him; this highlights how O’Brien masterfully blends reality with fiction, reminiscent of Dublin’s own mix of the mundane and the extraordinary.
You know, O’Brien really nails it with these personalities — every time you meet them, it’s like taking a new route through Dublin, full of fresh surprises. Everyone in the book, whether it’s the student telling the story or the mythical beings popping up, weaves together a mix of themes that get you thinking.
When I flip through its pages again, I can’t help but marvel at O’Brien’s timeless brilliance that makes us rethink what a story really is. His work is like the ancient cobblestones in Dublin — stubbornly sticking around through all the changing fashions and seasons. This gem of a book still hooks readers today and holds its ground in the world of literature as a guiding light for the storytellers of tomorrow.
If you want to get really in to the spirit of things as you read, buy a secondhand copy from someplace like Bargain Book on the Butter Slip where Michael Atkinson is always ready to go the extra mile for a genuine book lover.
