Second paragraph of third chapter:
The estates of “The Wild Geese” were seized and sold or given to Protestants, and penal laws were introduced forbidding Catholics to hold office or to serve in the armed forces. Father’s land at Leixlip had only been rented of course, but the new tenants seized our stock and equipment and I was reduced once more to buying malt to keep the brewery going.
A few years ago I wrote about Christian Davies, commonly call’d Mother Ross, who was born in 1667 and lived as a woman in Leixlip and Dublin until her husband was conscripted into the army, and then herself joined up, living as a man for many years, until she was eventually discovered and became a bit of a celebrity. This is not a terribly good novelisation of the story (indeed, the original account that we have supposedly received from Christian herself is something of a novelisation), but I was on a long plane flight and short of other things to read, so I pursued it to the end.
A couple of beats that I really felt were missed: the author has rather a tin ear for the dynamics of the relationship of southern Irish Protestants to the United Kingdom, and I winced several times as his characters simply got it wrong. And from Christian’s own memoirs, it’s pretty clear that she had several enjoyable relationships with girlfriends while living as a man and ostensibly still looking for her husband; Lloyd simply doesn’t take her there, and instead invents a back-story of sexual assault in Ireland. Not really recommended. You can get Mother Ross here.
About the author: “Geoff Lloyd was born in 1928, served on the lower deck in the Royal Navy (postwar), spent most of his career in the UK Civil Service, moving around the British Isles. He travelled widely in Eastern Europe, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India and retired to Portugal. His interests include music, history, and travel. He has written eighteen novels, three plays, short stories, etc.” I won’t be seeking out more of his work, but I admire his energy, if he is still with us.
This was the non-fiction book that had lingered longest unread on my shelves. Next on that pile is The Partition, by Charles Townshend.
