February 14th, 2007
Farewell Benedict Kiely
Despite his ripe old age of 87, it was sad to read of the death of writer Benedict Kiely who was buried yesterday. When people rattle off their favourite Irish authors, they usually mention Joyce, Edna O’Brien, Pat McCabe, John McGahern or Colm TóibÃn, while Seán Ó Faoláin, Frank O’Connor and Mary Lavin are name-checked when it comes to short stories. Even though Kiely practiced both forms, I always felt that he was, like Maeve Brennan, on the peripery and somewhat overlooked in Irish writing. Perhaps this was because more people associated him with journalism and broadcasting, but then he dabbled in the same brand of absurdity as Flann O’Brien, a consummate columnist.
It’s only three years since I read Kiely’s novel, The Captain with the Whiskers but it has stayed with me and will remain one of my favourite Irish novels. Like JP Donleavy’s The Ginger Man, it’s a very specific snapshot of a bygone Ireland (in this case, the late 1950s/early 1960s). Even though there is, what Thomas Kilroy says in his afterword of my copy of the book a “moral indignation” in his writing, it’s never bombastic. If anything, Kiely’s handling of subjects like pre-marital sex and adultery are deft, sardonic and usually very funny. With Donleavy, Kiely shares a writer’s ear for dialogue and a storyteller’s drink-soaked musicality as the opening of the book shows. The eponymous Captain of his novel is - according to Kilroy - a “memorable monster”, and one of Irish fiction’s greatest creations. On the opening page, we get to hear about him:
“It wasn’t that he had a loud voice or overbearing ways. No, he had a voice like oil, smoooth, almost apologetic. He said his words slowly as if he was thinking hard all the time with great effort trying to avoid even a syllable that would ruffle a sixteen-year-old girl. You’d see him there on the Diamond Hill when he’d come in from his big farm to the city, talking to the priest or the doctor and his little box of a head nodding as it to say yes, you’re quite correct, and I’m only the most abject of men, and the left thumb hooked in the gold watch-chain on thh black velveteen waistcoat and his right hand on the silver top his blackthorn.
“It was the moustache and the whiskers betrayed him. They made you think twice about all that polite humility. There something off too about the flat, flat back of his skull. He had a neck all right in front but no neck that you’d notice behind, and if you study the shapes of most people you’ll find something unusual about no neck behind and a neck in front. The whiskers and moustache were as oily as the voice but they wicked, that’s the only word; and I never knew what his eyes were like. I never saw them, for talking to him you kept your eyes all the time on the moustache, feeling that if he made a hostile forward lunge you’d have to grip its points the way you’d grip the horns of a canterkous gentleman goat.”
Chapter One also opens with a quote from a poem, which seems fitting this week.
“In winter by the window, in summer by the gate,
His thoughts were all so full of us we never can forget;
And so we think where’er he is he must be watching yet.”
In memoriam - Anon
Links
Review of The Captain with The Whiskers
Obituaries in The Guardian and UK Independent
February 14th, 2007 at 2:41 pm
When I was a kid, I was fascinated by Sunday Miscellany on rte radio 1 especially Ben Kiely’s unique voice, which was a rare treasure.
February 14th, 2007 at 3:54 pm
Absolutely John, I still listen to Sunday Miscellany and no one ever sounds like him. It’s a shame.
February 14th, 2007 at 7:36 pm
not forgetting his narration on the ‘Hands’ series, which are marvellous documents and one of my favourite shows. are there any plans for a proper rte tribute to an extraordinary broadcaster?
February 14th, 2007 at 7:50 pm
John I’ll see if I can find out. Tried to leave you a comment the other day but it wanted me to log in with a blogger account. Just wanted to say that your blog award nomination is very well deserved - your film writing is so, so good.
February 15th, 2007 at 10:49 am
I’ll confess to being mostly ignorant of his work: I only ever read Proxopera when I was leaving school but it impressed me enough that introductions were offered through my mothers best friend, who turned out to be Kiely’s cousin. Ironically enough, this was to be in McCloskeys in Donnybrook- a favourite of mine now but very much wrong side of the city for me in those days and not worth the trek.
February 15th, 2007 at 12:32 pm
That’s a nice post. I’ve always loved Sunday Miscellany on the radio. I gave the recently published Miscellany anthology to my sister-in-law as a New Year gift. Ben Kiely’s Tyrone rolling voice modulations and narrative power were something compelling.
February 15th, 2007 at 3:16 pm
Colin, what was he like when you met him?
Garreth, thank you. I also bought the SM anthology for someone, it’s a lovely gift.
John, I’ve been in touch with someone I know in the RTE press office so I’ll report back if I hear of any plans to air a tribute show or reruns of his Sunday Miscellany contributions.
Also, it turns out he was a dab hand at the Irish Times Crosaire crossword - according to a letter in today’s Times.
REMEMBERING BENEDICT KIELY
Madam, - I was sorry to hear of the death of Ben Kiely. About 20 years ago I was supping a pint in a pub near Baggot Street bridge one Saturday afternoon when a white-haired, late-middle-aged man who looked familiar came into the bar. Noticing that I was doing the cryptic crossword in The Irish Times, he came over to me and advised me to try to solve the four big clues at the top, bottom and sides of the crossword first. He said that if I managed to solve them I was well on the way to solving the entire crossword.
I didn’t recognise him at the time but realised later it was Ben Kiely. Such is the power of association that every time I do the Crosaire on a Saturday I think of the writer from Omagh. - Yours, etc,
JOE PATTON, Chapelizod Court, Chapelizod, Dublin 20.
February 15th, 2007 at 6:20 pm
Thanks v much Sinead. I read one obituary and said to myself: I must catch up on BK… I missed him first time round. You’ve given me a place to start, a kick start…
That’s all I need.
On a related by different matter: I have a poster in our hallway - one which features 12 Irish Writers. Every evening Grace says “good night to Sam Beckett & William Butler Yeats, Kavanagh & Wilde…”
But what about Irish Women Writers?
Who would be the 12 you’d put on a poster?
I ask this on your blog because I suspect you think about these sort of issues. But I’d love to know what your readers think.
I think I owe it to Grace to do this for her.
February 16th, 2007 at 10:01 am
I wish i knew Sinead- I’m ashamed to say that it was something I kept on putting on the long finger until I’d read more of the work. In the end neither happened. Callow youth and all that…
February 16th, 2007 at 10:52 am
Omani, I know that poster well (it used to hang in my English classroom in school) and had clocked the absence of women on it. I promise I’ll come up with my 12 in the next few days - thanks for the challenge. Hope to see you at the Blog Awards maybe?
February 16th, 2007 at 3:00 pm
Well, Omaniblog, you’ve made a right point about the absence of women writers from that tourist poster. Here are two living Irish women novelists I’d gladly put on your reading list:- 1. Edna O’Brien (The Country Girls, Girl with the Green Eyes) 2. Jennifer Johnston (How many miles to Babylon?, The Railway Station Man, Shadows on our Skin). I mention these titles because I’ve read them: The Captains and the Kings is another successful novel by JJ, which I haven’t read. As for deceased women authors, well, I’d start with short story supremo, Maura Lavin. But I too would be interested to have other readers’ listings…
February 16th, 2007 at 4:47 pm
Gareth, both of those writers would be in my list. I’m intrigued by your use of Maura - is that a pet name? I’ve only ever heard her called Mary. Although my mam was born Mary, and everyone calls her Maura.
RTE Update:
Got this after my press office query:
“On Sunday, 11 February, RTÉ Radio 1’s Sunday Miscellany dedicated the programme to the memory of Benedict Kiely. The programme included a broadcast of one of Benedict Kiely’s Sunday Miscellany contributions, followed by the song Sweet Omagh Town.
Sunday Miscellany is planning a Benedict Kiely commemorative special in the coming weeks. RTÉ Radio 1 will be announcing further details of this special broadcast shortly.”
Here’s the link for the Feb 11th piece (Kiely’s piece is near the end, and starts around 43 minutes).
February 17th, 2007 at 1:30 am
Thank you Sinead. Thank you Garreth.
My hope is that, eventually, but not quickly, we’ll arrive at a group of 12 women Irish Writers.
And then I’ll look for the inspiring quotes from them - like the quotes from the 12 men in the hall downstairs.
Sinead, isn’t this a bit important as an issue? Doesn’t it deserve a bit more airing space than an after thought?
Thank you v much for hoping to see me at the Awards. I’m holding back for a few days more before deciding, but I’d love to be there. I’d love to meet you but the more I think about what it’s like for returned immigrants… the more I feel in touch with my awkwardness.
Forgive me going through this in public, but I find it helps.
February 17th, 2007 at 8:37 am
Oops. Yes, it’s Mary Lavin, not Maura. It should be easy to find collections of her stories in the local library.
February 17th, 2007 at 10:04 am
“Isn’t this a bit important as an issue? Doesn’t it deserve a bit more airing space than an after thought?”
It is indeed, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot since you mentioned it. It wasn’t hard to come up with a few, but I’ll stick in a post and not, as you say, relegate it to the end of the comments. There is a real air of afterthought about the fact that no one has addressed this to date.
Sorry to hear that you feel awkward about being home. I went to the awards last year having only met a couple of bloggers before and I got to meet so many people. There was such an open, friendly air and everyone was curious about and interested in other people. I think you might actually enjoy it.
Garreth, I was merely hoping there was a story behind the name, but not to worry. Maybe you’re thinking also of writer Maura Laverty? I’ve never read anything by her though.
February 17th, 2007 at 5:29 pm
“no one has addressed this to date…”
Wow. That poster’s been about for years. My Wiffe had it in her house in Dublin.
I’d have expected Irish women writers to have pointed out the one-sidedness of the poster, as soon as it was published.
For me, the poster is a bit of an embarrassment: am I sexist for displaying it? Now that I’ve thought this thought, I can’t un-think it.
We all know that role modelling matters. I see it as my responsibility, as parent, to give my daughter Grace a decent start in life.
Sending her off to bed every night with the image of Irish writers being all male is hardly responsible parenting is it?
I’ll be including Evan(?) Boland among my 12 - her “Object Lessions” alone ensures her right to a place. It made a huge impression on me.
You?
February 17th, 2007 at 5:34 pm
Sinead,
Thanks v much for your warm encouraging plug for the Awards event. After that, I’d be a queer fella if I stayed away…
I’ve discovered that many returned immigrants have felt uncomfortable in Ireland for many years. Some even go back whence they came.
I’m beginning to think there might be an interesting story to be explored around this theme. Would you know if it’s already been done?