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1
Kathleen on Wednesday
“Jerry McGuinty was my husband for fifteen years.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Twenty.”
“But Jerry McGuinty’s rich.”
“I’m rich. From a phone call, I’ll be.”
“But you weren’t really married to Jerry McGuinty.”
“Watch where you’re cuttin.”
“How come you’re not rich?”
“I am rich. Where’s Lisa anyway? It takes a phone call, like I’m, like I’m one of them people, you know, calling. Cut my hair. Where’s Lisa?!”
“I told ya. She’s sick.”
“What do ya mean, sick?”
“The clap.”
“Ohhh. Lisa?”
“Yep.”
“Who are you?”
“Joanie. I told you. See, it’s here. Look in the mirror there. Joanie.”
“Joanie.”
“So your last name’s McGuinty?”
“It is.”
“How come it’s Herlihy?”
“It’s McGuinty.”
“Says in the book, Herlihy. Mrs. Herlihy, ten o’clock, cut and set.”
“Don’t you set my hair. I won’t pay if you set me.”
“All right, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Herlihy, eh? Haven’t heard that in a while.”
“But ya gave that as your name.”
“Herlihy’s a pretty name, too.”
“Herlihy is a pretty name.”
“A Herlihy doesn’t get the clap. Not a Kathleen Herlihy.”
“No, ma’am, not a Joanie neither.”
“McGuinty’s a name.”
“McGuinty’s a name all right.”
“My name for fifteen years or so. Smoke?”
“No thank you.”
“Give ya some cheekbones.”
“No thank you, ma’am. I got cheekbones.”
“Where?”
“I got cheekbones as much as you was married to Jerry McGuinty.”
“Where’s Lisa fer shit’s sakes? You tell me where Lisa is.”
“I told you. Lisa’s dead.”
“What?”
“She died last week.”
“Lisa?”
“Yep. Just after she married Jerry McGuinty.”
“What?”
“Lisa’s sick.”
“You tell her to get better.”
“You tell me what it was like being married to Jerry McGuinty.”
“You cut my hair.”
“I’m cuttin your hair.”
“Arse. Jerry McGuinty was the biggest . . . You mind your own biggest.”
“Business.”
“What?”
“All I know is, I wouldn’t be sittin in that chair if I was married to Jerry McGuinty. I wouldn’t be gettin my hair cut by me, that’s what I know, if I was married to Jerry friggin McGuinty.”
“I could afford! I could pay for more than this. Who are you?”
“I’m Joanie.”
“You’re not Joanie. I was married to Joanie.”
“Joanie McGuinty?”
“Jerry. Jerry McGuinty was my husband for twenty years.”
And I gotta buy cheese.
I gotta buy cheese.
“Cheese?”
“Aisle three.”
“Three?”
“Three.”
I can count. I can count. Comb your freakin hair, you ugly freakin freak, is all I want, is all I want is cheese. Three cheese.
“Where’s aisle three?”
“What?”
“Aisle three fer shit’s sakes.” What do ya want with cheese? “What do ya want with cheese?”
“What?”
“I’m so fuckin thirsty.”
“Do you need help?”
“I want some fuckin cheese.”
“Aisle three, ma’am. That way, ma’am.”
“What?”
“That way, ma’am.”
He was sweet, that boy. That way, ma’am, that way. Cheese? Over there, over there by that way, ma’am, ya grubby little freak.
“Which way?”
“Pardon?”
“Where’d he go?”
“Who, ma’am?”
“The grocery boy. He’ll bring me a stick of cheese.” That’s it, that’s right. Run away.
“Drink?”
“Ya can’t drink here, ma’am. This is a hairdresser’s.”
“I’ll just have a drink.”
“Ya can’t, Mrs. Herlihy. This is a salon. Put that away now.”
“I’ll just put it down here.”
“Put the flask back in your pocket, ma’am. I’m not kidding ma’am.”
“I’ll just put it down here.”
“Ma’am.”
“I saw your cheekbones.”
“You see anyone else drinking?”
“There’s no one in here.”
“Right.”
“There’s no one in here, and you’re trying to trick me.”
“I’m not tricking you, Jerry.”
“Jerry?”
“Joanie.”
“It’s Kathleen.”
“Your name’s Kathleen. Put the flask away, Kathleen.”
“No one else is drinkin cause you’re trickin everyone.”
“Just put the flask away. There. In your pocket. You want me to finish your hair, don’t ya?”
“Eh?”
“Mrs. Herlihy, ten o’clock, cut and set.”
“I won’t have a set today thanks.”
“So you say.”
“So says the Lord.”
“Put the flask away now, Kathleen.”
“Smoke?”
“No.”
“I’ll just have a smoke to help your cheekbones along.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You confuse the shit out of me, Lisa.”
“Do I? I’m Joanie. Would you like a drink, ma’am?”
“You’re feckin right I would.”
“Cause this is a saloon.”
“Right.”
“Put that away, ma’am. Put your head back there. Have a rest. Have a rest while I set your hair.”
“Get your feckin hands off me, is all I’m sayin.”
“And all I’m saying is you should do your shopping elsewhere.”
“Security!”
“I am security, ma’am.”
“Security!”
“Come on outside, ma’am. Finish your shopping outside.”
“Get your hands off me, and I won’t kill you.”
“You won’t kill me?”
“Get your hands off me.”
“Please keep your voice down.”
“I want some flippin cheese!”
“You’ll get some outside.”
“Why?!”
“What?”
“Where the fuck is aisle three?”
“Mrs. Herlihy? Mrs. Herlihy? Wake up, Mrs. Herlihy. Wake up now, Kathleen. Wake up, ya friggin drunk. Mrs. Herlihy?”
“Yes?”
“You fell asleep.”
“I fell asleep.”
“I’ve done your hair, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Where?”
“Just on top of your head, ma’am.”
“That’s very kind.”
“Are you all right?”
Kathleen on Thursday
“It’s Herlihy.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Herlihy. Could you hold for one moment?”
“What?”
“Hold please.”
Hold hold hold hold old hold old old.
“Mrs. Herlihy?”
“Eh?”
“What can we do for you today? The usual?”
“Quick.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Robert, is it? Come in come in.”
“Just on the counter, ma’am?”
“Eh?”
“I’ll just put it on the counter. I have bad news, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Give us a drink.”
“It’s about the drink, ma’am.”
“What is it?” Itchy, itchy bastard.
“Our supplier had no Dewar’s. It’s Bell’s today, I’m afraid.”
“Right.”
“I thought you hated Bell’s.”
“Not just now. Hurry.”
“I was worried.”
“No ya weren’t.”
“Pardon?”
“I suppose you want some.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Herlihy. Just a quick one. I’ve got four more deliveries this morning.”
“Dewar’s or Bell’s?”
“You don’t have Dewar’s today, ma’am. I’ll have Bell’s.”
“You’ll have Bell’s. I’ll have Bell’s. I’ll have more Bell ’s than you cause you’re driving.”
“That’s only fair.”
“Where’d ya put it?”
“Just on the counter, ma’am.”
“I’ll just . . . I can pour the feckin thing . . . Here we go.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Give that back for a second, Robert, is it.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll just have a little sip of yours.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that, ma’am.”
“More tomorrow. I’ll give yiz.”
“Can’t I just have a bit?”
Fucker. “Here. One finger. One and a half fingers.”
“Thanks.”
“Pass that back for a minute. I’ll just drink half a finger. There. You’re driving.”
“Thanks.”
“Sit, Robert, is it.”
“Thank you very much. Thank you. I like this couch.”
“Fortune.”
“Yeah?”
“Flippin right. I remember.”
“I’ll bet. How are you today, anyways, Mrs. Herlihy?”
“I want you to leave, Robert.”
“Sure. I’ll just knock that back.”
Just knock it back goodbye son. Off then, ya freakin sponge? I’ll just slip over here and ring the Bell’s and call ya back for more. No? Tomorrow then. Come on back tomorrow.
“Goodbye.”
Good morning and goodbye to you Robert, ugly face, freakin mole, strawberry pus on chin.
Smell of old teeth. So old in my mouth, and look at yourself. Look at above the couch, dirty freakin mirror, lookin at yourself. Get yourself up for another, and for anyone else? Blinds down behind the eyes. Older than you look. Nothing like you look. Get yourself another. Goddamn couch cost a fortune, might as well enjoy life.
Feet!
Get a man to lay a carpet just as soon as I finish this here, this drink here cost a fortune. Three fingers at noon, get me through the lunchtime quiet. Half a glass, fat fingers today thank God. There’s a toast to all my friends, I wanna thank you all for comin. Get a man to lay me down, three fingers behind the truck.
Feet! God damn the knees. Cover your knees ya freakin hag and lie down there on the couch. There ya go. There ya go. Peace and freakin quiet. I’ll just have a quick cigarette, if that’s all right with you, Robert.
&...
Revue de presse :
Kathleen on Wednesday
“Jerry McGuinty was my husband for fifteen years.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Twenty.”
“But Jerry McGuinty’s rich.”
“I’m rich. From a phone call, I’ll be.”
“But you weren’t really married to Jerry McGuinty.”
“Watch where you’re cuttin.”
“How come you’re not rich?”
“I am rich. Where’s Lisa anyway? It takes a phone call, like I’m, like I’m one of them people, you know, calling. Cut my hair. Where’s Lisa?!”
“I told ya. She’s sick.”
“What do ya mean, sick?”
“The clap.”
“Ohhh. Lisa?”
“Yep.”
“Who are you?”
“Joanie. I told you. See, it’s here. Look in the mirror there. Joanie.”
“Joanie.”
“So your last name’s McGuinty?”
“It is.”
“How come it’s Herlihy?”
“It’s McGuinty.”
“Says in the book, Herlihy. Mrs. Herlihy, ten o’clock, cut and set.”
“Don’t you set my hair. I won’t pay if you set me.”
“All right, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Herlihy, eh? Haven’t heard that in a while.”
“But ya gave that as your name.”
“Herlihy’s a pretty name, too.”
“Herlihy is a pretty name.”
“A Herlihy doesn’t get the clap. Not a Kathleen Herlihy.”
“No, ma’am, not a Joanie neither.”
“McGuinty’s a name.”
“McGuinty’s a name all right.”
“My name for fifteen years or so. Smoke?”
“No thank you.”
“Give ya some cheekbones.”
“No thank you, ma’am. I got cheekbones.”
“Where?”
“I got cheekbones as much as you was married to Jerry McGuinty.”
“Where’s Lisa fer shit’s sakes? You tell me where Lisa is.”
“I told you. Lisa’s dead.”
“What?”
“She died last week.”
“Lisa?”
“Yep. Just after she married Jerry McGuinty.”
“What?”
“Lisa’s sick.”
“You tell her to get better.”
“You tell me what it was like being married to Jerry McGuinty.”
“You cut my hair.”
“I’m cuttin your hair.”
“Arse. Jerry McGuinty was the biggest . . . You mind your own biggest.”
“Business.”
“What?”
“All I know is, I wouldn’t be sittin in that chair if I was married to Jerry McGuinty. I wouldn’t be gettin my hair cut by me, that’s what I know, if I was married to Jerry friggin McGuinty.”
“I could afford! I could pay for more than this. Who are you?”
“I’m Joanie.”
“You’re not Joanie. I was married to Joanie.”
“Joanie McGuinty?”
“Jerry. Jerry McGuinty was my husband for twenty years.”
And I gotta buy cheese.
I gotta buy cheese.
“Cheese?”
“Aisle three.”
“Three?”
“Three.”
I can count. I can count. Comb your freakin hair, you ugly freakin freak, is all I want, is all I want is cheese. Three cheese.
“Where’s aisle three?”
“What?”
“Aisle three fer shit’s sakes.” What do ya want with cheese? “What do ya want with cheese?”
“What?”
“I’m so fuckin thirsty.”
“Do you need help?”
“I want some fuckin cheese.”
“Aisle three, ma’am. That way, ma’am.”
“What?”
“That way, ma’am.”
He was sweet, that boy. That way, ma’am, that way. Cheese? Over there, over there by that way, ma’am, ya grubby little freak.
“Which way?”
“Pardon?”
“Where’d he go?”
“Who, ma’am?”
“The grocery boy. He’ll bring me a stick of cheese.” That’s it, that’s right. Run away.
“Drink?”
“Ya can’t drink here, ma’am. This is a hairdresser’s.”
“I’ll just have a drink.”
“Ya can’t, Mrs. Herlihy. This is a salon. Put that away now.”
“I’ll just put it down here.”
“Put the flask back in your pocket, ma’am. I’m not kidding ma’am.”
“I’ll just put it down here.”
“Ma’am.”
“I saw your cheekbones.”
“You see anyone else drinking?”
“There’s no one in here.”
“Right.”
“There’s no one in here, and you’re trying to trick me.”
“I’m not tricking you, Jerry.”
“Jerry?”
“Joanie.”
“It’s Kathleen.”
“Your name’s Kathleen. Put the flask away, Kathleen.”
“No one else is drinkin cause you’re trickin everyone.”
“Just put the flask away. There. In your pocket. You want me to finish your hair, don’t ya?”
“Eh?”
“Mrs. Herlihy, ten o’clock, cut and set.”
“I won’t have a set today thanks.”
“So you say.”
“So says the Lord.”
“Put the flask away now, Kathleen.”
“Smoke?”
“No.”
“I’ll just have a smoke to help your cheekbones along.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You confuse the shit out of me, Lisa.”
“Do I? I’m Joanie. Would you like a drink, ma’am?”
“You’re feckin right I would.”
“Cause this is a saloon.”
“Right.”
“Put that away, ma’am. Put your head back there. Have a rest. Have a rest while I set your hair.”
“Get your feckin hands off me, is all I’m sayin.”
“And all I’m saying is you should do your shopping elsewhere.”
“Security!”
“I am security, ma’am.”
“Security!”
“Come on outside, ma’am. Finish your shopping outside.”
“Get your hands off me, and I won’t kill you.”
“You won’t kill me?”
“Get your hands off me.”
“Please keep your voice down.”
“I want some flippin cheese!”
“You’ll get some outside.”
“Why?!”
“What?”
“Where the fuck is aisle three?”
“Mrs. Herlihy? Mrs. Herlihy? Wake up, Mrs. Herlihy. Wake up now, Kathleen. Wake up, ya friggin drunk. Mrs. Herlihy?”
“Yes?”
“You fell asleep.”
“I fell asleep.”
“I’ve done your hair, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Where?”
“Just on top of your head, ma’am.”
“That’s very kind.”
“Are you all right?”
Kathleen on Thursday
“It’s Herlihy.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Herlihy. Could you hold for one moment?”
“What?”
“Hold please.”
Hold hold hold hold old hold old old.
“Mrs. Herlihy?”
“Eh?”
“What can we do for you today? The usual?”
“Quick.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Robert, is it? Come in come in.”
“Just on the counter, ma’am?”
“Eh?”
“I’ll just put it on the counter. I have bad news, Mrs. Herlihy.”
“Give us a drink.”
“It’s about the drink, ma’am.”
“What is it?” Itchy, itchy bastard.
“Our supplier had no Dewar’s. It’s Bell’s today, I’m afraid.”
“Right.”
“I thought you hated Bell’s.”
“Not just now. Hurry.”
“I was worried.”
“No ya weren’t.”
“Pardon?”
“I suppose you want some.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Herlihy. Just a quick one. I’ve got four more deliveries this morning.”
“Dewar’s or Bell’s?”
“You don’t have Dewar’s today, ma’am. I’ll have Bell’s.”
“You’ll have Bell’s. I’ll have Bell’s. I’ll have more Bell ’s than you cause you’re driving.”
“That’s only fair.”
“Where’d ya put it?”
“Just on the counter, ma’am.”
“I’ll just . . . I can pour the feckin thing . . . Here we go.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Give that back for a second, Robert, is it.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll just have a little sip of yours.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that, ma’am.”
“More tomorrow. I’ll give yiz.”
“Can’t I just have a bit?”
Fucker. “Here. One finger. One and a half fingers.”
“Thanks.”
“Pass that back for a minute. I’ll just drink half a finger. There. You’re driving.”
“Thanks.”
“Sit, Robert, is it.”
“Thank you very much. Thank you. I like this couch.”
“Fortune.”
“Yeah?”
“Flippin right. I remember.”
“I’ll bet. How are you today, anyways, Mrs. Herlihy?”
“I want you to leave, Robert.”
“Sure. I’ll just knock that back.”
Just knock it back goodbye son. Off then, ya freakin sponge? I’ll just slip over here and ring the Bell’s and call ya back for more. No? Tomorrow then. Come on back tomorrow.
“Goodbye.”
Good morning and goodbye to you Robert, ugly face, freakin mole, strawberry pus on chin.
Smell of old teeth. So old in my mouth, and look at yourself. Look at above the couch, dirty freakin mirror, lookin at yourself. Get yourself up for another, and for anyone else? Blinds down behind the eyes. Older than you look. Nothing like you look. Get yourself another. Goddamn couch cost a fortune, might as well enjoy life.
Feet!
Get a man to lay a carpet just as soon as I finish this here, this drink here cost a fortune. Three fingers at noon, get me through the lunchtime quiet. Half a glass, fat fingers today thank God. There’s a toast to all my friends, I wanna thank you all for comin. Get a man to lay me down, three fingers behind the truck.
Feet! God damn the knees. Cover your knees ya freakin hag and lie down there on the couch. There ya go. There ya go. Peace and freakin quiet. I’ll just have a quick cigarette, if that’s all right with you, Robert.
&...
"An extraordinary novel... A beautiful tragedy and a series of painful, yet oddly exquisite surprises... Some Great Thing promises to be not just the fiction debut of the year, but also its highlight" (John Burnside Scotsman)
"This is an extraordinary, powerful novel: technically ambitious, passionate and beautifully observed, filled with the truth of human frailty, the mystery of crafts and the stark bewilderment of love" (A. L. Kennedy)
"Some Great Thing is just about as fresh as it gets. Wry, harrowing, visceral, the writing bristles with imagination and intent. Colin McAdam has taken a jackhammer to the modern novel and come up with something bright and strong and new" (Rupert Thomson)
"Superb...Through muscular and powerful writing, McAdam thwarts all expectations and makes his material thrum with importance, insight and sad truth...Utterly compelling from first to last" (Daily Telegraph)
"'Precociously accomplished, wise, deeply moving-Perfectly pitched-A dazzling down-payment on posterity'" (Scotland on Sunday)
"This is an extraordinary, powerful novel: technically ambitious, passionate and beautifully observed, filled with the truth of human frailty, the mystery of crafts and the stark bewilderment of love" (A. L. Kennedy)
"Some Great Thing is just about as fresh as it gets. Wry, harrowing, visceral, the writing bristles with imagination and intent. Colin McAdam has taken a jackhammer to the modern novel and come up with something bright and strong and new" (Rupert Thomson)
"Superb...Through muscular and powerful writing, McAdam thwarts all expectations and makes his material thrum with importance, insight and sad truth...Utterly compelling from first to last" (Daily Telegraph)
"'Precociously accomplished, wise, deeply moving-Perfectly pitched-A dazzling down-payment on posterity'" (Scotland on Sunday)
Les informations fournies dans la section « A propos du livre » peuvent faire référence à une autre édition de ce titre.
- ÉditeurVintage
- Date d'édition2005
- ISBN 10 0099458942
- ISBN 13 9780099458944
- ReliureBroché
- Nombre de pages368
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Description du livre Paperback. Etat : new. Paperback. 'McAdam's impressive novel sets these two men on a collision course in a battle that is not only over the public spaces of the city, but also about the landscapes of their private worlds' - Ian Critchley, The Sunday TimesOttawa in the seventies is colourless, cold, and aching for character, ripe for the taking. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities- Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, with inherited wealth and position, but nothing inside him but longing.As their careers and successes run in parallel - Jerry with his new wife, Kathleen, who likes a drink even more than she likes him, and Simon with his endless affairs and intrigues - we begin to see how a landscape can be shaped by desire. When both men realise that something is missing, and go in search of it, their lives start to intersect, and the story spirals to its astonishing conclusion. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities: Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, who has inherited wealth and position. As their careers and successes run in parallel, we begin to see how love is suffocated by work, how individuals are slowly crushed by progress. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780099458944
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Description du livre Etat : New. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities: Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, who has inherited wealth and position. As their careers and successes run in parallel, we begin to see how love is suffocated by work, how individuals are slowly crushed by progress. Num Pages: 368 pages. BIC Classification: FA. Category: (G) General (US: Trade). Dimension: 198 x 143 x 24. Weight in Grams: 250. . 2005. New Ed. Paperback. . . . . Books ship from the US and Ireland. N° de réf. du vendeur V9780099458944
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Description du livre Etat : New. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities: Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, who has inherited wealth and position. As their careers and successes run in parallel, we begin to see how love is suffocated by work, how individuals are slowly crushed by progress. Num Pages: 368 pages. BIC Classification: FA. Category: (G) General (US: Trade). Dimension: 198 x 143 x 24. Weight in Grams: 250. . 2005. New Ed. Paperback. . . . . N° de réf. du vendeur V9780099458944
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Description du livre Paperback. Etat : new. Paperback. 'McAdam's impressive novel sets these two men on a collision course in a battle that is not only over the public spaces of the city, but also about the landscapes of their private worlds' - Ian Critchley, The Sunday TimesOttawa in the seventies is colourless, cold, and aching for character, ripe for the taking. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities- Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, with inherited wealth and position, but nothing inside him but longing.As their careers and successes run in parallel - Jerry with his new wife, Kathleen, who likes a drink even more than she likes him, and Simon with his endless affairs and intrigues - we begin to see how a landscape can be shaped by desire. When both men realise that something is missing, and go in search of it, their lives start to intersect, and the story spirals to its astonishing conclusion. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities: Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, who has inherited wealth and position. As their careers and successes run in parallel, we begin to see how love is suffocated by work, how individuals are slowly crushed by progress. Shipping may be from our Sydney, NSW warehouse or from our UK or US warehouse, depending on stock availability. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780099458944
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Description du livre Paperback. Etat : new. Paperback. 'McAdam's impressive novel sets these two men on a collision course in a battle that is not only over the public spaces of the city, but also about the landscapes of their private worlds' - Ian Critchley, The Sunday TimesOttawa in the seventies is colourless, cold, and aching for character, ripe for the taking. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities- Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, with inherited wealth and position, but nothing inside him but longing.As their careers and successes run in parallel - Jerry with his new wife, Kathleen, who likes a drink even more than she likes him, and Simon with his endless affairs and intrigues - we begin to see how a landscape can be shaped by desire. When both men realise that something is missing, and go in search of it, their lives start to intersect, and the story spirals to its astonishing conclusion. Two men, from different ends of society, see the opportunities: Jerry McGuinty, plasterer-turned-builder, a simple, self-made man, and Simon Struthers, who has inherited wealth and position. As their careers and successes run in parallel, we begin to see how love is suffocated by work, how individuals are slowly crushed by progress. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780099458944
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EUR 15,22
Autre devise