Nordic Irish Studies Network
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Colm Tóibín,
The Blackwater Lightship,
London: Picador, 1999
(Published 24 September, 1999).

Review by Jacob Urup Nielsen


Home, sweet home.

The Irish author Colm Tóibín’s new novel The Blackwater Lightship is about how the terminally ill Declan spends his last weeks with his family and friends.  The protagonist of the novel is Declan’s sister Helen whom the story is narrated through.  She has severed the ties to her mother years ago but her brother’s illness forces her to confront their shared past.

Helen is a successful school principal who lives a nice middle-class life with her husband and their two boys in Dublin suburbia.  She is clearing away after a party for her husband’s Irish school when Paul, a friend of her brother, arrives at their house.  He tells her that Declan has been hospitalised.  Being gay, Declan has been diagnosed with AIDS for several years without his family knowing.  The illness is, however, now advanced to a point where treatment for pain is the only option.  Declan’s last wish is to go down to his grandmother’s guesthouse at Cush where he and Helen where placed for weeks when there father was terminally ill with cancer over 20 years back.  The story is in this way a re-enactment of the past on several planes.  Being at Cush entails the bringing together of three generations of women - Dora, Lily and Helen - who have many unresolved conflicts between them.  The novel reveals different alliances and conflicts in this threesome.  The three women are counterpointed by Declan, Paul and Larry - the three musketeers.  Yoking together opposites and creating these tensions is a Tóibínian hallmark and is here at work at its very best.  Declan becomes a catalyst for potential reconciliation.

The Blackwater Lightship returns to a theme which Tóibín also explored in his two first novels The South and The Heather Blazing, namely the sense of belonging to a place.  Declan finds it necessary to return to the place where he is from - he ‘needs the creeps’ - in order to get peace before dying.  He cannot go to his mother’s house because it is brand new and is described as having empty rooms.  This symbolises how Lily has severed herself from the past and reflects the historical revisionist approach, which Tóibín in his other writings has discovered leaves him dispossessed.  The house is cleansed of things connected to the past.  Although Helen is at odds with her mother and despises her for having done this, she herself likes her own house for the same qualities - it is brand new and has not been lived in previously.  These two women are forced to confront their past at the grandmother’s house in Cush.

The novel gets its title from a lightship that has been taken out of service near the grandmother Dora’s house.  At Cush there were once two beacons - the Tuskar Lighthouse and the Blackwater Lightship.  As a child Lily imagined that the two were lovers and their beams were mating calls.  The story in this way is centered around the past - the deceased father.  As Lily says, she thought that her husband was stable and would always be there, like the Tuskar Lighthouse, which is built on solid rock, but she has discovered that it was the other way around.  Her husband was the Blackwater Lightship which was ‘taken out of service’.  The Tuskar Lighthouse works as a leitmotif and connects the past to the present - just as Lily eventually does.

The novel’s current theme is homosexuality.  Tóibín’s poignant satire over the theme expressed through Larry: ‘You know, in my family in my family my brothers and sisters - even the married ones - still haven’t told that they are heterosexual.  We don’t talk about sex!’  Tóibín similarly dealt with this issue in his previous novel The Story of the Night but has now taken the theme back on Irish ground.  Tóibín’s journalistic background comes to the fore in paragraphs like this as in his other novels which all have some element of social critique.  In The Heather Blazing the focus was on the old Fianna Fail hegemony - represented by Judge Redmond walking the eroding cliffs at Cush - over the new liberal Ireland of Mary Robinson.
Tóibín is only one of a number of Irish writers who are dominating the contemporary literary scene.   These writers are successful because Ireland still has a number of metaphysical orthodoxies, or echoes of them at least, like the church and the nationalist tradition - which may provide stable ground for works of fiction.   The cliffs at Cush are no longer eroding as they were in The Heather Blazing.  This, I believe, reflects that Ireland has not yet shed its past orthodoxies – the development has stagnated.
When I talked to Tóibín last year he told me that he deliberately avoided reference to any external events, such as elections or politics in general, in order to give more life to the individual characters.  I think Tóibín succeeds in providing this extra emphasis, thereby making all the six main characters appear more real and plausible.
The novel exhibits Tóibín’s exquisite minimalism tuned to perfection and teaches that only by attending to our roots we may begin to understand ourselves.

 
Copyright 1999 by the author
This review has previously been published at the PanMacmillan website
 

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