The Mammy
It seems like there's no end to Irish tales depicting  unhappy, squalid childhoods in crowded, working-class flats. While Brendan O'Carroll'sThe Mammymaintains many elements of the traditional genre--the saintly,  overworked mother, the Catholic family with an enormous posse of  children and any number of abusive alcoholic fathers--it's a somewhat  cheerier vision of Irish youth than we've come to expect. The mammy in  question, one Agnes Browne, has enough spunk to look after her brood of  seven, run a fruit stand at the local open market, gossip viciously with  her best friend Marion, and still daydream about dancing with a famous  singer.This is in large part due to the fact that her husband, Redser, who falls  squarely into the above-mentioned category, has died--thanks to a  careless driver--just before the novel's opening pages. Our first  glimpse of the pragmatic, lovable Agnes comes as she's waiting in the  social services office on the afternoon of his death,  determined not to lose a penny of her widow's benefits as a result of  dilly-dallying. She doesn't even have the necessary death certificate  yet, but that's not nearly enough to slow down Agnes Brown: "No, love,  he's definitely dead. Definitely," she says to the clerk, then, turning  to her friend for backup, "Isn't he, Marion?" Marion, made from the same  tough stock, agrees solemnly: "Absolutely. I know him years, and  I've never seen him look so bad. Dead, definitely dead!" The scene  is emblematic: Agnes knows how to fight, and she isn't afraid to  do it. Her deadpan humor becomes a hallmark.As for her children, they get into the usual trouble--fights,  girl problems, and the like. But there are also some charming, unexpected  episodes in the book. For example, Agnes's oldest child meets a Jewish  man and performs small tasks for him on the Sabbath, which eventually  leads to greater goods. Among other things, Mark learns about the Jewish  faith, new knowledge he accepts with bemusement and some of his mother's  innocence and good humor. Upon hearing that the man doesn't celebrate  Christmas, he exclaims: "Will yeh go on outta that! How can yeh not  believe in something when it's real?"The book is not without its share of tragedy, but Agnes takes it all  with aplomb. She's clearly the glue that binds her pack of youngsters  together: "The rule in the Browne family was: 'You hit one, you hit  seven.' Since March twenty-ninth and Redser's demise, little had changed  in the Browne house. If anything, the house was less tense."The Mammyis a slight book--it tells the simple, fairly  conventional tale of a single Irish family--but it makes up for its gaps with  humanity, in the same way Agnes Browne makes up for what she and her children lack.--Melanie Rehak