As I have said on this blog before, I do not sympathize with the rabid wing of the anti-adverb lobby. Still, this author uses a lot of them -- some might say too many. Her favourite is "shortly." Not meaning soon, as in "See you shortly;" but to describe manner of speech, as in "Thanks," he said shortly.
Adverbs streamed relentlessly on my inner ear. Though their proliferation at times added an unintended touch of comedy, this did not stop me enjoying the story; I went on to listen to other Anne Doughty works: A Girl Names Rosie, and The Hamiltons of Ballydown.
Both these latter novels portray shockingly mean mothers. I tried to believe in these antagonists, but found it hard to credit that mothers could be so cruel and unsympathetic with their daughters. What made them like that? Doughty doesn't develop them into complex characters, or use their point of view, so the reader can only guess. A naughty reader who seeks autobiographical threads in fiction, I couldn't help but wonder if Doughty had unresolved issues with her own mum.
In any case, she portrays Ireland beautifully, both the historical version and the contemporary one. In The Hamiltons of Ballydown, a sick woman's delirium is a doorway to another time and place, allowing her to tune in to the feelings of the displaced and dispossessed people of the British Isles -- Scottish, Irish, and English -- as they went on to the New World and displaced the native peoples in their turn.
Undoubtedly, (don't mind me -- just doffing her an adverb) Doughty is good at using telling details to express setting and character. Her stories reveal her preoccupation with problems related to class, poverty and conservative feudal cultures -- universal themes.
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