Evening star., 1925-06-30
NEW BOOKS
AT RANDOM
!. G.. M.
SHANGANAGH.

O'MALLEY OF SHANGANAGH.
Dom Byrne. The Century Co.
Dom Byrne writes under other
motive and in another spirit than the
common motive and spirit that ami
mate the majority Of his fellow crafts
men. The Byrne stories have, there
fore, q quality that sets them apart
from the work of this majority. Like
these others, to be sure, men and
women are his material, his great pre-
occupation. But where they. the best
OF them, appear satisfied with a fair
portrayal Of character and personal
ity working out plausibly through the
medium Of outer circumstance, Byrne
drives deeper in an irresistible urge
to capture the elusive, unbearable
ache that Is the handspring of hu-
manity." He is in pursuit of that
ache Of inconsistencies which at some
poignant moment every human feels.
that deep nostalgia for some other
where lying beyond the reaches of
personal memory, the homing instinst
OF a race 1t may be. He Is in quest
OF that ache of loneliness in the
midst Of friends that sweeps over all
of us now and then. or Of that out
ward yearning of the spirit toward
far and almost forgotten kinships. He
Is on the trail of that universal un-
rest, source of what man already is,
OF all that he is yet to be. Such
is the single goal Of Dom Byrne
when he sets out upon the ways of
literature. Romanticist? Yes, if to
pursue that which cannot be over
taken and no more than half OWNED
be a sign, then Dom Byrne is a
simon-pure romantic.
x*
1t is the Dom Byrne temperament
that makes this choice of literary ways
tneyitable-the essential temperament
OF the mystic, the seer, the poet
These, the three ever pressing close to
that strange borderland lying in be
tween the known and the unknown
where eyesight passes into mindsigh,
and into the visions Of the spirit
Now the reaction OF most writers
faced upon this cul-de-sac Of human
life is different one from this. These
as rule. turn their backs squarely
upon 1t; give over trying to solve the
unsolvable Some OF these-the Ar
lens and Huxleys and Osbert Sitwel
and the rest-lapse into social sophis
tication and satire, more or less subtle
and damning. Some take to fantasy
and fable. Others to overlong chron
icles OF small-town drearinesses. Bur
Byrne possesses neither the eciC
chemistry nor the vanity Of the cynic
turned satirist. Nor has he the wild
imagination required for the breeding
or fantastic tales. Nor, again, the
prolix power of the 500-page novelist
Instead. simple and friendly mar
searching out the more secret ways
or the heart. the more hidden paths o,
life. And in this pursuit he makes
use or the Irish people as his chic1
medium-the race know best, q race
that affirms the divinity Of Jesus ant
yet believes in the little people of the
hills, race that loves its own home
and yet will wander the wide worlc
over, race that loves battle and We,
always falls" So, with a true heart
beat for romantic Ireland and in q
chlld's freedom of fancy, with a poets
glft OF words and a master weaver's
hand and eye for fitness of pattern anc
design, Dom Byrne creates stories O,
life's deep significances in the terms
of simple Irish life.
x i
And this is how we come ,por
OMalley of Shanganagh. "In any cit,
you would have noticed that fierce ole
man, but in Dublin he called for nr
are there who seem exiled kings" Be
fore US the past of this one "exile6
king Is spread as, silent and austere
he moves from tavern to inn drinking
forgetfulness. The beginning of this
past OF OMalley Of Shanganagh is q
bright dream, all the rest a bite,
realty. And in the dream a COLDER
youth rules his fair demesne of Shan
ganagh, while on the other side OF
of
maiden stands, white and luminous as
silver mist. And once again life
proves itself more than religion
Again the tmmemorial spark is STRUCK
and for little time the flame burn.
nigh, then falls to a gray and solder
ash. For thousand years of impla nt
ed dogma teaches we'll the lesson tha,
only Heaven is good. that the JOYS
OF life are but snares bringing the
unWary down to destruction. And sc
in no great time the half-opened gates
OF the Sisterhood take back the wan
derer. who. truly repentant, sets he,
errant feet at the doorsill of Heaven
| in her hands the wreckage Of a mar
and the shreds and tatters of rifle6
Shanganagh, evidence of the gooc
God, these. of her deep and single
love for Him. And all this, so poign
ant in pain and truth end beauty, is
why we now come upon old O'Malle,
OF Shanganagh moving from taverr
TO inn drinking forgetfulness.
And here, too, as part Of the Donr
Byrne quest is the story Of a wan
dering bard Of Ireland, Blind Raj
| terry" who draws from the tau,
strings of his harp the TRANSMITTED
smell of the tarred ships riding at an
chor in the bay, the scent of the dulse
the rare and fugitive fragrance O.
the little flowers in the clefts of thu
sea rocks, the clean breath of tn,
heather and the tang of the pea
smoke from the cottages. And unde,
| the hand of the blind bard this grant
and melodious thing can re-create fol
the distant eye and heart the purpl,
| hills of Connemara and the swee
| charm OF the Clare County and tn,
unrest Of Spring and the Jun,
warmth Of the sun honey smooth IL
Its touch. And out OF the strings yo,
| can see great drowsy Shannon goins
by and hear the leap of the trout AMI
| the plunge of the water within it
| flow. And beside Blind Raftery yo,
can see Hilaria, whose sweet low
| laughter is like a wood pigeons Groom
ing" If you look close you will Sc,
wicked man following the two ben
| upoii LIt.. IA " tieill. L Ile man VINO pu
upon Blind Raftery the greatest wrons
that man can suffer by way of tn
woman he loves. But this is a story O
triumph not of defeat It is the vic
tory of real values over all the spurj
Gus stuff that struts as virtue. An,
sweet Hilaria's low laugh of content
ment follows us out of the little stor,
like benedicion and promise.
| X y
| But, best Of all, better even tha,
the enthralling "Messer Marco Polo