Free PDF Booking Passage: We Irish and Americans, by Thomas Lynch

Free PDF Booking Passage: We Irish and Americans, by Thomas Lynch

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Booking Passage: We Irish and Americans, by Thomas Lynch

Free PDF Booking Passage: We Irish and Americans, by Thomas Lynch

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Review

“He’s no mere tourist but a man who’s made a deep personal commitment to the land from which his forebears came and who has a sensitive, nuanced understanding of the place and its people…It’s a lovely book.” - Jonathan Yardley, Washington Post“[Lynch] draws an enticing picture of his home away from home: the dreamlike environs of Moveen, County Clare.” - Joseph O’Neill, New York Times Book Review“Those of us with Irish ancestry will find this an appealing account of family, faith, destiny, and why so many Americans wish they were Irish, too.” - Dan R. Barber, Dallas Morning News“A master of the contemplative amble…There is enough poetry in the writing of it, both in verse and in prose, that a reader cannot come away from it without knowing what Lynch is about…Hearing Lynch’s story…one can gain wisdom for one’s own journey, Irish or not.” - Marta Salij, Detroit Free Press“In Booking Passage, Thomas Lynch’s ‘romance with words,’ realized as an altar boy responding in Latin, becomes a full-blown love affair in his prose about Ireland and fellow poets and what he thinks of the Church. His style has energy that takes my breath away it’s so fresh and unexpected.” - Elmore Leonard“Thomas Lynch is one of our indispensable essayists, a master of skeptical realism and tragicomic relief. The true subject of this generous, rowdy book is Lynch’s own wonderful mind, as it bobs and weaves, making connections between the personal and the tribal, history and the present moment, in language that is gorgeous and consistently apt.” - Phillip Lopate, author of Getting Personal and Waterfront: A Journey Around Manhattan“Thomas Lynch is an original…If there were more Thomas Lynches in the world, it might be a little less full of hatred and have a little more room in it.” - George Bornstein, Times Literary Supplement“The best writing in the book evolves from the sound of voices, from memory crammed into voice…[Booking Passage] becomes a layered hymn of gratitude to having family left on the other side…Spectacular.” - James Liddy, Irish Times

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About the Author

Thomas Lynch has authored five collections of poetry, one of stories, and four books of essays, including National Book Award Finalist The Undertaking. He works as a funeral director in Milford, Michigan, and teaches at the Bear River Writer’s Conference.

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Product details

Paperback: 344 pages

Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company; Reprint edition (June 17, 2006)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0393328570

ISBN-13: 978-0393328578

Product Dimensions:

5.5 x 0.9 x 8.2 inches

Shipping Weight: 8.8 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)

Average Customer Review:

4.6 out of 5 stars

23 customer reviews

Amazon Best Sellers Rank:

#1,194,910 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Thomas Lynch is a man inebriated with words, "One could come and go, traveling light in the portable universe of words, counting on images for transport" (Lynch 2005:239). I've read this book wishing Lynch's passages about Ireland had been more lengthy and cohesive. "Booking Passage" is a cobbled-together plethora of piecemeal impressions, scattered ruminations mixed with the occasional narrative. The chapter "Death Comes for the Young Curate" contains Lynch's inimitable encounter with a priest on Iona's beach. Later, his spleen about a neighbor with the designer pooches and their infinitesimal waste is hilarious, as is his horror at the story of a man, being "taken short," is finally found, having died on an Irish pub's toilet: "Every time I read this I am chilled. Killed in a loo in Killaloe - Bejaysus if it doesn't prove Himself is an almighty joker after all" (2005:227).Lynch is best describing his heritage and narrating actual events. Canny old Nora Lynch wisely used this well-off American cousin, and in return Lynch earned his Irish stripes. He talks of being broke, yet traveling through Europe; truly broke folks don't get to rent a car, drive to Milan, fly to London, then Detroit, moving "rapidly between the worlds" (242). Lynch is tone-deaf to physical and spiritual realities around him, true of many Boomers of his economic niche, too detached from what is truly uncomfortable. "Strangeness and distance made every utterance precious" (259). To call Lynch's exploitation of being "Irish" and "Catholic" inauthentic is too easy. Lynch's tunnel vision is self-focused, his all-seeing eye blurrily fixated on himself. Something essential is missing, whether in Ireland or Michigan. One derives no real sense of the actual land and dirt of Ireland, the faces of his neighbors and relatives, the way they move, their life. You won't savor what the food tastes like, the smells, colors, sensations, touch, but there's a scattering of architectural descriptions. What you get is what people sound like, and of course they do sound interesting. "Everything is tributary, every image and experience capable of turning in on itself a hundred different ways" (270-271). As in navel gazing, Godhelpus. To Lynch, life is language: words, lyrics, strings of nouns and vowels, meanings imposed by playing with them and scattering them. Tossing `em up in the air to see what interesting wordy detritus results.Oddly, Lynch includes a poem about drifting like a snowdrift over his ex-wife, "O...O... O..." Over the top, typical boomer-style, pun intended. After his divorce, he rants about extreme feminism in witty manner, but he goes too far bemoaning equality and the abuse of women, as forced mutilation still occurs. His bits on 911 are dated and out of place, too self-conscious. The last chapter is one of the most self-indulgent, narcissistic exercises in the grandiosity of poets and poetry I've ever stumbled upon, worse than wading through a bog. The genuflecting name-dropping of famous poets, and the unfortunate actor, is beyond dull. And his pal Heffernan's poem with "gangs of rowdy robes of fur," and "where animals devoid of any anger/lifting up bits of landscape in their teeth" maddens (248). There's no notion of the country from Canada to the Rocky Mountain West, where grizzly bears roam and chomp up human-made road signs and the occasional human. Many of the book's poems read as head games, politics, boomer-theology, and melancholy narcissism. A wash of words is Lynch's medicine, all hollow sound, no depth, but clever turns of phrase recycled in articles and essays, betokening a shortage of creativity. Thus the ultimate flatness when the reader finally closes this unsatisfying book.Lynch's descriptions of his sisters and Irish women are a kick: "they are strikingly beautiful, immoveable, and possessed of powers we know nothing of . . . the source of all that is holy and hazardous . . . a matrilineage that finds its way back to the kitchen and cauldron in a boggy parish in the old country . . . devotees of the votive and vigil, rosary and novena, perpetual adorations, lives of the saints, imitations of Christ, statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Sacred Heart, Stations of the Cross, relics, waters, ribbons and badges, prayerbooks and scapulars - all of which makes them morally superior and spiritually dangerous" (209-210). Indeed.

Who doesn’t love the Irish? But there is so much more in Tom Lynch’s book of essays than Irish (and Irish poets!) A searing indictment of rationalizations about Catholic Church scandals, a wondrous sidestep into Taos, New Mexico, of all places (the burial of a beloved priest). And many mugs or glasses or steins of beer and ail and stout. Besides being a fine poet , Lynch is a touching essayist. And not to be left out. a mortician and proud of it!

- or choose to be when the beer is green for the day. Best if you are Catholic and know when to genuflect, but lyrically beautiful for anyone who loves words and appreciates artistry in writing.

This book read a bit like one of my favorite Irish authors, John McGahren, but also contemporary and American. It touched my soul. A rich and fortunate life thankfully shared. I bought an extra copy to share with my sister.

I read this as a library book -- and it was so deeply touching that I had to buy a copy for my home library. The writing is superb - as is the exploration of identities, place, and history. What makes a family? Where is home? And it includes a wonderful description of poetry: "If life is linear, our brief histories stretched between baptisms and burials, and the larger history tied to events that happen in a line: and then, and then, and then ... poetry is the thing that twists history and geography and memory free of such plodding." (p. 270) This book should appeal to those interested in Ireland and genealogy to be sure, but also to those simply drawn to a poetic voice.

I'd been waiting for what seemed like too long for a third book of stories from Thomas Lynch, but wondered if his Irish-based tales could possibility be as compelling as his earlier works, which were stories about life based on his career in dealing with the dead (in addition to being a writer, Lynch is an undertaker). But again, just as he used the funeral home as a backdrop for stories not about death but about life, Lynch uses Ireland, land of his ancestory and his frequent visits, as the canvas for telling poignant stories about life. Now I'll give friends copies of "Booking Passage" while i wait for a fourth book from Thomas Lynch.

Perhaps of most interest to those of Irish ancestry, the author exhibits humor and insight into the Irish - those who stayed and the offspring of those who emigrated. A very pleasant read.

Hilarious in parts, I found his diatribe on 9/11, the airport wait between flights, his "rise" to stardom etc. to be egotistical and boring. If he had stuck to Ireland, relatives there, the cottage there, his life in the States and the back and forth between the two, it would have made a better book. I loved it for the brogue and dialogue therein; reminded me of my father who spoke with a brogue imitating my grandparents from Roscommon but it does wander and that's a shame because he seems to have a niche with his close tie to Ireland that could be used again and again in more books perhaps.

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Booking Passage: We Irish and Americans, by Thomas Lynch PDF