Listening Still by Anne Griffin

Sceptre

345 pages

 Blurb

Jeanie Masterson has a gift: She can hear the recently dead and give voice to their final wishes and revelations. Shared by her father, the gift has enabled the family undertakers to flourish in their small Irish town.

Yet, Jeanie has always been uneasy about censoring what she hears to protect the feelings of the living. Unsure too about the choice she made seventeen years ago, giving up the chance of a new life in London with her first love, Fionn, to work with her father and aunt – or the wisdom of marrying her faithful childhood friend Niall when she has never quite been able to forget Fionn.

Until now Jeanie has stifled her doubts, but when her parents unexpectedly announce their plan to retire and leave the business to her and Niall, she is jolted out of limbo.

In this captivating successor to her bestselling debut When All is Said, Anne Griffin masterfully portrays a young woman torn between duty and a last chance to break free – unaware that she’s not the only one who has long been softening the truth.

 

 Review

What to say about Listening Still other than WOW. Anne Griffin has done it again, be it that for me, Listening Still isn’t quite as breath-taking as When All is Said was. However, that may be because I have very strong feelings about the subject matter of the latter book, and not because there’s anything wrong with Listening Still.

In Listening Still, we meet thirty-something Jeanie who finds herself reassessing her whole life and the decisions she made and avoided making. Born into a family of funeral directors and being one of only two people in Ireland who can hear the thoughts of the death, her future appears set in stone before she is old enough to fully realise what a future is especially since she loves hearing from the death as a child.

Jeanie is basically a good girl, who takes her responsibilities seriously and, for the longest time, without much question. When Jeanie’s parents announce their decision to retire and move away, the house of cards starts crumbling. Jeanie questions everything. With her dad being the only other person who can communicate with the recently deceased, Jeanie will no longer be able to share the burden. She has long held doubts about her father’s inclination to beautify the final words and revelations when relaying them to the next of kin. Was she right to give up on the love of her life in order to fulfil what felt like her destiny? Does she love her husband, Niall enough? Is the life she is living really what she wants and needs?

In many ways this is a coming-of-age story, even if Jeanie goes through the process somewhat later in life than most. Jeanie has always done what was expected of her and has taken her responsibilities very seriously without ever asking herself how she felt about it. Between her parents’ announcement and further shocks, her breakdown is hardly surprising. The question becomes if it’s ever too late to be what you might have been and if Jeanie could ever have been anything other than what she is. The story poses some further interesting questions, such as, why do we tell those seemingly innocent little white lies? Is it really to spare others pain or discomfort or are our reasons more selfish; are we in fact trying to save ourselves from uncomfortable situations or embarrassment? Listening Still also asks how much of our lives we live for ourselves. How much of ourselves our we willing to deny in order to accommodate others?

I can’t say I agreed with or understood many of Jeanie’s decisions, nor her refusal to make them. But I was fascinated by the dilemmas she faces, heartbroken about some of the consequences, and frustrated with her refusal to take responsibility for the consequences of her (in)actions. It is, however, not necessary to agree with or even like characters in order to get caught up in their journey, and Jeanie’s progress over the course of this book had me entranced.

Maurice, from When All is Said makes an appearance in this story. Well, his corpse does. And he doesn’t talk to Jeanie. What she learns about him, she hears from his son, Kevin. I can’t help wondering if Anne Griffin was tempted to make him speak to Jeanie, to explain his reasoning one more time. Whether she considered it or not, I’m glad she didn’t, because Maurice told us everything we needed to know about him in his own amazing and memorable book.

My romance writer’s heart struggled with the somewhat ambiguous ending, but that’s not to say there was anything wrong with how the book ended. Quite the opposite in fact. When everything starts from scratch, the future is, by its very nature, at least a little ambiguous. The story couldn’t have ended any other way; if it had, it would have been a betrayal of both the previous 340 pages and of the main character(s).

Long review short: Listening Still was a captivating read, even if it did read a little like a car crash at times. The twist near the end was clever in that it came as a shock as well as a moment of clarity. While this isn’t a book for someone who wants stories to end with every question answered and all characters settled into their happy ever after, this is the perfect read for someone who, like me, enjoys playing the ‘I wonder what might happen next’ game after they’ve read the last chapter. With a storyline and main character that will stay with me for a long time, Listening Still has earned itself a place on my ‘extra-special’ list.

To read my review of When All is Said, click here: Review

 

  

When All Is Said by Anne Griffin

272 words

Book Club Read

Blurb

Five toasts. Five people. One lifetime.

'An extraordinary novel, a poetic writer, and a story that moved me to tears.' John Boyne

'I'm here to remember - all that I have been and all that I will never be again.'

At the bar of a grand hotel in a small Irish town sits 84-year-old Maurice Hannigan. He's alone, as usual - though tonight is anything but. Pull up a stool and charge your glass, because Maurice is finally ready to tell his story. Over the course of this evening, he will raise five toasts to the five people who have meant the most to him. Through these stories - of unspoken joy and regret, a secret tragedy kept hidden, a fierce love that never found its voice - the life of one man will be powerfully and poignantly laid bare.

Heart-breaking and heart-warming all at once, the voice of Maurice Hannigan will stay with you long after all is said.

'A hugely enjoyable, engrossing novel, a genuine page-turner.' Donal Ryan

Review 

“I’m here to remember – all that I have been and all that I never be again.”

I know that line is in the blurb too, but it is so powerful I had to repeat it here, in my review. It is the essence of this book, a vivid description of Maurice Hannigan’s evening. Because the question at the soul of this book, as far as I’m concerned, is what constitutes a life? What matters when we near the end and we make up the balance of the years we’ve lived? Which are the memories that we hold on to and the ones we can’t shake, no matter how much we might want to? And who were the people who worked their way into our hearts and never left, even after their physical presence on earth came to an end?

As Maurice takes up his usual spot in the bar of the hotel, situated in a building that has haunted his life, he ‘talks’ to his son, who isn’t there and will therefore never hear the full tale of his father’s life. Unsurprisingly, it is in large part a tale of loss. The loss of Tony, who died too young of TB. The loss of Molly, Maurice’s baby girl who never had a chance to live. The loss of Noleen, his sister in law who despite having mental health issues played such a pivotal role in Maurice’s life. Maurice’s toast to Kevin, his son, isn’t at first glance, about loss. Kevin is still very much alive. But maybe that makes this toast even sadder, because it’s clear Maurice believes he never fully connected with his only child, who was the complete opposite of him. The final and biggest loss of all, the one that broke the camel’s back, is that of his wife, Sadie.

“No one, no one really knows loss until it’s someone you love. The deep-down kind of love that holds on to your bones and digs itself right in under your fingernails, as hard to budge as the years of compacted earth. And when it’s gone…it’s as if its’ been ripped from you. Raw and exposed, you stand dripping blood all over the good feckin’ carpet. Half-human, half-dead, one foot already in the grave.”

I’ve known for almost thirty years that loss can be a physical pain. And that, while the body recovers, the heart and mind take longer, and refuse to let go completely. That can be a blessing, but sometimes—and very clearly in Maurice’s case—good memories and even a life-time of love to remember and cherish are not enough to keep a person going. Combine loss with loneliness, and you come pretty close to a description of hell on earth.

“I didn’t need him to do anything other than just be alive.”

Poor Maurice, he blames himself for not being good enough to and for any of his loved ones. And yet, as I read his tale, all I could see what his humanity. He lived his life as most of us do, trying his best and not living up to the standards he sets himself. Because, while Maurice’s is the predominant voice in this story, you don’t have to read deeply between the lines to know that those he talks about would tell him he was more than good enough, despite his mistakes, misjudgments, and not always ideal decisions.

Part of me knew how this story would end when I read the blurb. All of me knew what was going to happen by the time I reached 5% of this story. For what it’s worth, I’m with Maurice on this one. Life may be and often is a gift. Gifts however, can be refused. And when a gift goes past its sell-by date, we are, or at least should be, allowed to discard it.

While I have no doubt there will be those who say that Maurice’s decision is selfish, I disagree. Because you can’t live your life for others alone.

Long story short, I loved this book. It took me through a full range of emotions, forced me to think and feel, and brought home, how much life has changed over the course of a life-time like Maurice’s. This is probably my favourite book club read of 2019, and I can’t wait until we get to discuss it. Opinions will, no doubt, be divided. 😊