At Swim-Two-Birds (John F. Byrne Irish Literature Series)

O'Brien labored mightily to make At Swim-Two-Birds summary-proof. But here, anyway, are the bare bones: the narrator, a university student, is writing a novel, which keeps morphing from mock-heroics to middlebrow naturalism. Meanwhile, one of his characters, Dermot Trellis, is himself writing a Western--an Irish Western--whose cowpunching protagonists will eventually throw off their fictional shackles and attempt to murder their creator. (Talk about the death of the author!) There's enough structural shenanigans here to keep an entire industry of critics afloat. Still, what matters most is the pungency of O'Brien's prose. His dialogue is agreeably grungy, his parodies delicious, and the narrator speaks in the sort of Jesuitical dialect that we associate with Samuel Beckett:

That same afternoon I was sitting on a stool in an intoxicated condition in Grogan's licensed premises. Adjacent stools bore the forms of Brinsley and Kelly, my two true friends. The three of us were occupied in putting glasses of stout into the interior of our bodies and expressing by fine disputation the resulting sense of physical and mental well-being. In my thigh pocket I had eleven and eightpence in a weighty pendulum of mixed coins.

The story of an Irish college student whohalf to amuse himself and half to avoid workwrites an irreverent novel about the figures of Irish myth and legend in which characters come to life and riot against their author, At Swim is a wildly comic send-up of Irish literature and culture which had a major influence on writers coming after O'Brien, including Anthony Burgess, Gilbert Sorrentino, and William H. Gass (who has written an introduction for this edition).

O'Brien opened up a whole new world of possibilities for fiction as subsequent novelists have played with his zany ideas, chief among them being the idea that characters in fiction have earned the right to be "recycled"after all, they've proven their reliability as characters!not put out to pasture once their stories are finished.

Believing that characters should be born fully adult, one of the writers tries to keep them all together--in this case, at the Red Swan Hotel--so that he can keep track of them and keep them sober while he plans the narrative and writes and rewrites the beginning and ending of the novel. But even when the primary writer stops writing to go out with his friends, the characters of the other (invented) fictional writers continue to live on in the narrative and comment on writing. Before long, the reader is treated to essays on the nature of books vs. plays, polemics about the evils of drink, parodies of folk tales and ballads, a breathless wild west tale starring an Irish cowboy, the legends of Ireland, catalogues of sins, tales of magic and the supernatural, almanacs of folk wisdom and the cures for physical ills, and even the account of a trial--and that's just for starters.

Totally unique, O'Brien's creation defies the conventions, both of its day and of the present, and even the most jaded reader will be astonished at the unexpected twists the narrative takes. Steeped in the traditions of the Irish story-teller, O'Brien keeps those traditions alive by creating multiple narrators to tell multiple stories simultaneously, while also skewering the very traditions of which he--and they--are a part. Mary Whipple


Danger:Reading this book can seriously affect your passivity   August 17, 1998
23 out of 24 found this review helpful

I first came across Flann O'Brien in the shape of his novel "The Poor Mouth". My University lecturer lent me the book suggesting that his treatment of the subject of the Irish Language might give me some insight on how to approach an essay on Joyce and Beckett's treatment of the same. Whilst it must be said I thoroughly enjoyed the novel, I could see little relationship between what I considered this O'Brien's coarse impudence, and the styles of the undisputed masters of Irish literature in English. My mistake was that I should have read "At Swim-Two-Birds" first. It is here, in his first novel, that O'Brien establishes his right to rank among the heavyweights; his intellectual highground from which he can descend mercilessly upon any batallion of false pride he damned well choses.

Be warned. This is not a book for the lover of Jane Austen romance or a Dickens narrative. Rather, it demands parallels with the likes of Sterne for its sheer structural trickery - (imagine, if you will, the author who writes about an author who writes about an author whose characters revolt against his authorship, in taking over the narrative for themselves), -parallels with Beckett in the subversion of continuity and chronology of plot, and the frustrating of plot development with obsessive attention to mudane detail; parallels with Joyce in respect of the inclusion of historical classicism, here in the shape of the heroes of old Ireland, not least the mad king Sweeney whose inclusion in one of the fleeting strands of narrative rather tenuously povides the title for the novel itself.

Even this torturous attempt at grasping some semblance of what "At Swim-Two-Birds" is about, does not even begin to scratch the surface of the richness of form, of content, of style contained within its too few pages. When you read this book, and you should if you love literature, take your time over every page; bask in its complications; marvel at its ingenuity; guffaw at its hilarity. Before you realise it, it'll be over, and you'll have read one of the most intriguing books ever written. Now what was it about, again?


A Masterpiece! Funnier (and More Irish) than Python!   May 15, 2000
M. Allen Greenbaum (California)
20 out of 22 found this review helpful

This is, above all, a funny and playful book, playful with itself and the various conceits of fiction: the suspension of disbelief, the conventions of form, and the pretensions of rhetoric. Think of it as Pirandello meets the Marx Brothers.

"At Swim-Two-Birds" delights in rapid-fire wordplay and sophomoric experimentation (there are three alternative beginnings to the story). O'Brien succeeds in this bombastic flair partly because he doesn't take the literary enterprise--his own included--too seriously. He races along at a Groucho-like pace, only to slow down in wonderfully overwritten and overwrought scenes:

"Together the two strong men, joyous in the miracle of their health, put their bulging thews and the fine ripple of their sinews together at the arm-pits of the stricken king as they bent over him with their grunting red faces, their four heels sinking down in the turf of the jungle with the stress of their fine effort as they hoisted the madman to the tremulous support of his withered legs."

Indeed!

James Joyce praised O'Brien as "a real author, with the true comic spirit," and Graham Greene called this "a book in a thousand....in the line of Tristram Shandy and Ulysses." Like Joyce, O'Brien dazzles us with language and the sheer sound of words. The narrative is interrupted with rhetorical notes ("Name of figure of speech: Litotes [or Meiosis]"), populated by varying narrators "Tour de force by Brinsley, vocally interjected, being a comparable description in the Finn canon:," and buoyed by dialogue that variously recalls 30's screwball comedies,B-movie Westerns, and bad courtroom dramas.

O'Brien himself offers some literary "theory" that illustrates his comic sensibility and offers sly clues for his delighted (and maybe perplexed) reader: "...a satisfactory novel should be a self-evident sham to which the reader could regulate at will the degree of his credulity," and, "Most authors spend their time saying what has been said before--usually said much better (Page 33)." Flann O'Brien's command of--and upending of--narrative forms, and the hilarity of his farce make this an essential addition to any comic library. Then again, I could be wrong.

(Buy it!)


A good book, but not his best   December 2, 1999
19 out of 20 found this review helpful

At Swim-Two-Birds is the first great cult book of the century. Well, maybe the second, after Ulysses. Or possibly the fifth, after Kafka's novels. Oh, never mind. The author, Brian O'Nolan (to give him his real name) wrote it in a fairly desultory manner, handing out bits to his friends and asking them what they thought; he would often change it on their suggestion, not always for the better (as comparisons with early drafts show). It gives the impression of being intricately structured without actually being so, as I found when I adapted it for the stage. In fact, it's structurally a mess, with a hastily tacked-on sentimental ending that was written after O'Nolan's father's unexpected death - the book is always threatening to get really dark, and then fudges it in the wind-up.. The humour is side-splitting the first time round, but it gives diminishing returns (believe me). Far better is his second novel in English, The Third Policeman, written without AS2B's pretensions to modernity and avant-gardism, and, paradoxically, much more genuinely avant-garde.


A book of a century   September 27, 1999
17 out of 18 found this review helpful

Is Swift's A Tale of a Tub a great novel? Is Carlysle's Sartor Resartus a great novel? Is Tristram Shandy a great novel? Each of these works takes as its basis another form, whether the controversialist pamphlet, the philosophical treatise, or the biography, and comes out the other side with a new type of work, as well as a new work. These books occupy an originary and terminal position: they are the first and the last of their kind. For readers, these works are stones -- either the stones that become the foundations for understanding or the stones that drag them down. At Swim-Two-Birds takes as its foil the popular novel and the Irish renaissance myth discovery and the personal narrative. Why should a novel have only one beginning, O'Brien (aka Brian O'Nolan, aka Brian Nolan -- a man who got into university with a forged interview with John Joyce) asks? Why one ending? If, as some reviewers have suggested, you try to find the "structure," you're missing the point. Trying to mash this book into a novel's mold is misguided, and O'Brien will eventually make that clear. In fact, it is the story of a college student (fictional), who is writing a novel about a man (fictional) who is writing an Irish western (which cannot be). Additionally, the student's translation homework -- tales from the Dun Cow Book -- emerge in a full Lady Gregory parody and begin to interact with the other fictions, and the characters of the Irish Western themselves begin to resent their lots in life. The book plays games on so many levels that reading it the way one reads a novel is useless. This is not about information and straight lines, but about play -- sometimes rough and tumble and sometimes gentle. All of the narrators lie, by the way, and there is always one more frame of fiction beyond the one in action at the moment. Do not buy this book if you're intolerant of play. Do not buy this book if you look at books for "what happens." If, however, you're one of those who enjoys, instead of resents, reading milestones like Sartor Resartus or think that Italo Calvino is extremely sophisticated, this book (not novel) will be the greatest delight the 20th century can offer you.