A couple of weeks ago, while on the way to the Nun planting, I listened to Desert Island discs.
It popped into my head last night while I was spewing (seafood!), so I listened to it again.
The guest was J.P Donleavy.
Bizarrely, I had never heard of him but I had heard of his book, The Ginger Man.
Probably because they are making a film of it with Johnny Depp in the Sebastian Dangerfield role.
It’s a story about an American studying at Trinity in Dublin, when
he realises his ‘mission is to fornicate and philosophise’.
I have been to Dublin many times, with just that kind of mission in mind.
I got very little of the former and too much of the latter!
And if I’m honest, a couple of crippling hangovers.
Apart from the trip for a tattoo, in a strange, dark place on Capel Street, but that’s another blog!
Although, I did have a Priest come out to me in a hectic Gay pub called The George, another strange, dark place!
If you get the time, or the inclination, have a listen on the Radio 4 website.
Not only does he tell a brilliant story about Brendan Behan breaking into his house, correcting his manuscript and stealing his shoes.
(I occasionally, inadvertently, steal people’s lighters. Stealing shoes is fucking Hardcore!)
He has one of those resonant voices and distinct accents, in the tradition of Richard Burton.
I could listen to him read the Argos catalogue.
Go On!
Imagine Richard Burton describing a Sovereign Necklace, a pair of Creole earrings and an articulated, bejewelled clown.
Brings a tear to the eye and a clench to the sphincter, doesn‘t it?!
Donleavy also has a reputation for being able to knock people out with one punch and is faster now, than he ever was!
I like that. Brains and Brawn.
Boston Legal Line of the night, spoken by Denny Crane,
“The midget I’m dating might be my daughter”.
It popped into my head last night while I was spewing (seafood!), so I listened to it again.
The guest was J.P Donleavy.
Bizarrely, I had never heard of him but I had heard of his book, The Ginger Man.
Probably because they are making a film of it with Johnny Depp in the Sebastian Dangerfield role.
It’s a story about an American studying at Trinity in Dublin, when
he realises his ‘mission is to fornicate and philosophise’.
I have been to Dublin many times, with just that kind of mission in mind.
I got very little of the former and too much of the latter!
And if I’m honest, a couple of crippling hangovers.
Apart from the trip for a tattoo, in a strange, dark place on Capel Street, but that’s another blog!
Although, I did have a Priest come out to me in a hectic Gay pub called The George, another strange, dark place!
If you get the time, or the inclination, have a listen on the Radio 4 website.
Not only does he tell a brilliant story about Brendan Behan breaking into his house, correcting his manuscript and stealing his shoes.
(I occasionally, inadvertently, steal people’s lighters. Stealing shoes is fucking Hardcore!)
He has one of those resonant voices and distinct accents, in the tradition of Richard Burton.
I could listen to him read the Argos catalogue.
Go On!
Imagine Richard Burton describing a Sovereign Necklace, a pair of Creole earrings and an articulated, bejewelled clown.
Brings a tear to the eye and a clench to the sphincter, doesn‘t it?!
Donleavy also has a reputation for being able to knock people out with one punch and is faster now, than he ever was!
I like that. Brains and Brawn.
Boston Legal Line of the night, spoken by Denny Crane,
“The midget I’m dating might be my daughter”.
5 comments:
Superlative stuff!
(Just an aside: I always have this bug-eyed sensation when I venture from the white-on-black of the blog-face to the black-on-white of the comment page. I think the same thought -- hypochondriacally -- every time, "Do I have a tumour in the noggin, or what 'n the name blazes is going on?")
I loved this post because Donleavy is a strange hybrid, or high-bird: He traveled in many of the same circles that interest me -- Dublin after the war where the writers either scribbled for Newspapers and journals, went to London or the continent, or the States; but very few Yanks coming to Ireland to put down literary roots. John Betjeman came to Dublin on a spying mission during the war and, in one of his more radical moments, tried to enlist Patrick Kavanagh into British Intelligence and dispatch him to Portugal! Crazy shit! The very last thing Kavanagh was was subtle, a blonde Bond on a secret mission he was not! Maybe Betjeman just had a powerful sense of humour.
Anyway, Kavanagh and Behan hated one another. It all began when the former hired the latter to distemper his apartment. Behan painted everything black, the stove, the toilet, the floor, the ceiling, the light-bulb, everything. For a finish Behan used to chase Kavanagh through the streets of Dublin, jeering at him and trying to pick a fight. Kavanagh used to run in terror from him. Donleavy has some great tales about K. in his memoir, The History of the Ginger Man.
Thanks for the Depp update and the plans in the works. This is most fortuitous news. And I agree about that voice, and Burton's ... Burton reciting Dylan Thomas and Graves's "Welsh Incident"! Yes indeedy, the sphincter tighteneth!
I don't think I've ever looked at your tattoo close up, and I'd have sworn it was the same as Alice's.
Hmm...if I were going to break into someone's house, it would be to correct their manuscripts.
We had that ep of BL just a couple of weeks ago.
Lenten...Dyslexics find black on white difficult to read. They get a lot of 'movement' in the text.
He came across as a guy you'd love to sit in a pub and just listen to.
Luckily, we have lots of good secondhand bookshops around here. My mission today is to find a copy of The Ginger Man.
Schnee... The tattoo is two greyhounds twisted together and is the only one. The design was ditched once it was on me!
It's possible I'm disslexical(!), but then I'm in very good company. Allegedly, W.B. was such a chronic dyslexic that his teachers considered him mildly retarded!
You'll love The Ginger Man. It's a veritable banquet of cachinnation.
Hi Schnee ...
I can remember listening to RIchard Burton reciting Dylan Thomas and from then on found reading poetry a rather more sterile activity. I much prefer to hear poetry than to read it and like you could listen to Richard Burton read the phone book...
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