The Temporary Gentleman

Those familiar with Sebastian Barry will be aware of his fascination for family stories interwoven with Irish history, and that the cast of characters in his previous work frequently return to breathe life into new fiction. The Temporary Gentleman is not this, but a reworking of his 1998 play, Our Lady of Sligo. Barry cut his teeth as a playwright before The Secret Scripture and A Long Long Way were shortlisted for the Booker Prize, thus it seems natural to render the original lyricism of the play in a broader form. But, like any artistic translation, it risks losing the original essence.

It’s 1957 and Jack McNulty is writing a memoir from his post in Accra, Ghana. He is unsure why he doesn’t return to Ireland after a life of soldiering, and working as a UN observer and engineer. It’s clear the answer lies with his wife Mai. What follows is an epic love story, the seed of which springs from Mai’s hospital bed in the original play and feeds into each dramatic arc. But each climactic moment is quickly snuffed, creating a sense of the unexamined life, or that of a drunkard, which is possibly the point, because this is Jack’s telling after all – the man who aspires to be decent, but is only ever reminded of being a shameful scoundrel. Coupled with an unconscious desire to be protestant middle-class and the realisation that he was only called sir when defusing bombs for the British, the novel asks: can anyone be a gentleman – or decent human being – more than temporarily?

Barry fans will recognise familiar themes and motifs, revelling in another journey through the past told by an elderly protagonist, much like The Secret Scripture and his previous book, On Canaan’s Side. What’s not so certain is whether they’ll like the last page.

Luke May is a freelance reviewer.