Collections of shortstories, poems and essays,sit on my shelves,happily; but not oftenread from cover tocover. Like a rich,satisfying Christmascake, lovingly preparedand respectfully and moderatelyconsumed, such collections are bestcommenced and enjoyed in small doses.

Colm Tóibín’s new collection of nineshort stories, The Empty Family, is, likeits title, quietly evocative and emotionallycharged. In the opening story of hisprevious collected stories (Mothers and Sons, 2003) ‘The Use of Reason’, Tóibínemploys the word ‘empty’ 14 times inthe first three paragraphs. Frankly, I haveno real idea why, other than to hammerhome hard an intense sense of isolationor this bloody emptiness he feels, anexistential haiku of sorts. Colm Tóibínis too good a writer for us not to ignorethis clue. Nine stories, nine Christmascakes.

Tóibín’s literary landscape floats aroundhis home in Ireland, and Enniscorthyin particular, which he has returnedto again and again in his novels andstories. His Ireland is populated withoften lonely and complex characterscoming to terms with the past and therepercussions of past decisions. Spain isa place of sexual freedom, dark politics;a country haunted, offering the outsidera certain anonymity.

Three of the nine stories are set in Spain,the rest are in Ireland. Characters andnarrators return to, or move about,the cities and country. In ‘One MinusOne’, the man comes home to his dyingmother and her quiet death. Uponreturning to America, he realises ‘thatit was too late now … I would not begiven a second chance … I have to tellyou this struck me almost with relief.’

In ‘The Empty Family’, another exilemoves back to a home he has beensending books and paintings to foryears, also from America. He returns fora visit, uncertain of whether he’ll stay. Tóibín’s writing is always infused witha melancholy, its basis no doubt being,as he recently commented in a recentinterview, a result of suffering ‘certainhurts in childhood’. Paul in ‘The Colourof Shadows’ is a young gay man wholovingly attends to the final days, in anursing home, of his aunt (a close friendof Rose Lacey, a character from his novelBrooklyn). Tóibín also returns to thatlarger-than-life figure of Lady AugustaGregory, of whom he has written a briefmemoir.

The Empty Family is a sad, poignant,melancholic and at times challengingcollection of stories. I’ve always enjoyedTóibín’s clear, open writing, inviting usinto his world, laying open his head andheart. As Heather Ingman commentedin her review in the Irish Times, ‘forTóibín’s protagonists, happiness remainsfragile even elusive … savour the silencesbetween the words, there