68 pages • 2 hours read
Sebastian BarryA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Summary
Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Character Analysis
Themes
Symbols & Motifs
Important Quotes
Essay Topics
Tools
Roseanne is afraid to speak to Dr. Grene, fearing that she’ll only share “imaginings” with him (219). She recalls that she was left alone in the hut for years but can’t remember if it was “as much as six, seven, even eight” (219). She busied herself by tending to the roses on her front porch. Roseanne writes this, while struggling to remember if any of what she recalls is accurate.
One day, Father Gaunt visited her alone. He looked older and was “losing his hair just at the temples” (220). It was summer and he seemed hot in his soutane. He carried a small leather case. Roseanne wondered about his status in her life. He could’ve been considered an old friend because they had known each other for so long. She figured that he could’ve written “an intimate history of [her] life” because he had witnessed so much of it (221). Roseanne didn’t believe that she disliked him, but she didn’t understand him either.
Father Gaunt didn’t greet Roseanne when he entered the hut. He looked briefly at her roses and passed her. She stood, wiped her hands of stem juice on the hut’s wooden steps, and followed him inside. She told him that she didn’t have anything to offer him to drink, except for “a glass of Beecham’s powders” (221). He refused, telling her that that drink is “for those who have overindulged” (221). He looked Roseanne over and told her that she seemed well. Then again, he said, “without any trace of guilt,” that his spies had been keeping an eye on her (222). He then removed some papers from his briefcase; the one on top had a seal. Father Gaunt told Roseanne that, if only she had followed his advice years before and become a Catholic, she wouldn’t have been experiencing her current difficulties. He accused her of being a nymphomaniac then announced that her marriage to Tom was annulled. Father Gaunt took his case against Roseanne all the way to Rome and used testimonies from both Tom and Mrs. McNulty, a woman who “[had] experience of the troubles of women, in her work” (223). Roseanne asked if she was divorced. With disgust, Father Gaunt responded that the Catholic Church didn’t permit divorce. Instead, Roseanne and Tom’s marriage never existed; it was concluded, because of Roseanne having been insane at the time that she married.
Roseanne insisted that she didn’t know what nymphomania was, while Father Gaunt insisted that she did. He had, after all, witnessed her behavior unbecoming of a married woman, particularly with John Lavelle. There was also the matter of her mother’s insanity; the problem was in her blood. Roseanne swore that she had never been with any man but Tom and told Father Gaunt that he could even ask Lavelle what truly occurred between them. Father Gaunt then announced that Lavelle was dead. He re-entered the IRA, shot a policeman, and was later hanged by Albert Pierrepoint for his crime. Roseanne had not seen John in a long time. She figured that he had kept his distance so as not to cause her further trouble, knowing “the trouble he had brought [her] on Knocknarea” (225).
Father Gaunt then rose to leave and tried to move past Roseanne, who blocked his path, thinking of how much she wanted to kill him. He told her to step away from the door. Roseanne obeyed, knowing that there was no one to help her. She had been condemned a “fallen woman” and a “mad woman,” while Tom had been declared free (226).
The narrative shifts back to Dr. Grene, who writes in his book about the “stillness” that he sensed in his home the night before (227). He’s been reading Father Gaunt’s deposition against Roseanne. In it, Father Gaunt “[itemized] the fate of John Lavelle” who was hanged by Eamon de Valera’s government. Lavelle’s comrades were flogged. Dr. Grene didn’t know that there was once such a thing as “judicial flogging in Ireland, not to mention hanging” (227). He finds it extraordinary that the country was ever able to recover from such “early miseries and traumas” (228).
According to Father Gaunt’s deposition, John Lavelle took “his captive policeman into the hills behind Sligo, put a hood over his head, and held a gun to his temple” (228). He then tortured the man by spinning the barrel of his revolver and pulling the trigger. The purpose of kidnapping the policeman was to find out “when the wages were brought into the barracks” so that he could rob the police (228). A few of Lavelle’s partners in crime had kidnapped the policeman’s wife and daughter and held them for ransom. Lavelle eventually shot the policeman for not providing the information that Lavelle wanted, though the policeman may never have known where the wages were kept. The details of Lavelle’s crime became public after his accomplices agreed to furnish evidence and testimony against him, which is why they got off with no more than a flogging. At this time in Ireland’s history, de Valera was afraid that the IRA would become strong again and worried about the organization’s contacts with the Nazis.
In the same deposition, Father Gaunt describes Roseanne’s sexuality in clinical detail. Dr. Grene finds the account “voyeuristic” and evidential of Father Gaunt’s “intense hatred if not of women, then of the sexuality of women, or sexuality in general” (230). Moreover, he regarded her Protestantism as evil and was angry that she refused to convert to Catholicism. Father Gaunt found Roseanne “stubborn, difficult, perhaps mysterious” (230). He resented her beauty, resented that she married Tom, and resented that she associated with John Lavelle. Dr. Grene feels Father Gaunt’s fury toward Roseanne while reading the deposition. He also admits that, had he read it years ago, particularly the part in which he claimed that Roseanne bore a child and then killed it, Dr. Grene believes that he, too, would have found it necessary to commit her.
Roseanne writes in her testimony that John Kane is becoming more mysterious, hardly speaking, though he smiled at her that morning. On his way out of her room, he whacked the loose floorboard, under which she hides her testimony, with his shoe. It appeared he was indicating that he was aware of something being hidden there. Roseanne wanted to ask Kane about the progress of spring, if the snowdrops had evaporated and the daffodils have arrived. Suddenly, she became dizzy while looking out the window and tried to balance herself. Kane was still nearby; he reentered her room and helped her into bed.
Roseanne goes back to recalling the time shortly after Father Gaunt’s visit. She was wandering over the dunes on Strandhill beach one night. She didn’t want to see anyone but imagined that she saw people who weren’t actually there. She felt haunted by a figure wearing a black suit and a brown hat. She stood on the sand and watched the tide, which was far out. She then heard a “tiny growling,” which grew louder (233). She felt the ground tremble and saw lights approaching. Suddenly, there were dozens of airplanes coming toward her in unison. They flew close to the water, pulling it up “in torn sheets, that fell back to the surface” (235). Roseanne felt the planes pulling at her, as though trying to tear the brains out of her skull and her eyes out of their sockets. Then, just as quickly as they came, they were gone.
Some days thereafter, she was on her porch, tending to her roses—an activity that brought her some comfort during this period of distress. A man came along. At first, she didn’t recognize him then saw whom she believed to be Jack. She wondered what he was doing there, given that he was supposed to be in India. She called out to him. The man stopped. He looked frightened; he then spoke as though he had not spoken in days, as though words had become foreign to him. Roseanne realized that it wasn’t Jack. The man said that he was Jack’s brother, Eneas.
Roseanne asked Eneas what he was doing there. She remarked that he looked all black and grey, as though covered in ashes. Eneas said that he had been in Belfast, heading back to France, and that he was a soldier. He had been awaiting his ship and sleeping in a small hotel when sirens went off. Then, dozens of German bomber planes arrived, setting fire to Belfast. Roseanne invited him into her hut to rest. She identified with Eneas, feeling that he, too had been cast out of Sligo; that he, too, had become a black sheep within the McNulty clan, rarely discussed by his brothers and, when they did, with “heavy sighs and meaningful looks” (238). She ordered him to remove his uniform and brought him a cup of water. He drank it eagerly, “like he had a fire also in his insides that needed putting out” (239). She used her kettle to prepare a bath for him and handed him a bread and cheese sandwich, which he ate quickly.
It was getting dark. Roseanne heard the owl, her only companion in her exile, begin to hoot. She offered to take Eneas’ uniform outside to beat the ashes out of it; he refused, wanting to wear it as it was. He planned to go to Dublin and rejoin his unit. He told Roseanne that he came to Strandhill to see a girl he liked named Viv. He then told Roseanne that she and Viv were the most beautiful people he had ever seen. He asked for her forgiveness for speaking so, given that she wasn’t only married but also married to his brother. Roseanne corrected him, saying that she had been told that she was no longer married. She then went over to Eneas, took one of his calloused hands into hers, and led him to her feather bed. After making love, Jack asked about Joe Clear, saying that Jack told him that he was once in the Merchant Navy. Roseanne confirmed that he was. Eneas then asked if Joe Clear was in the “old police,” too, which Roseanne found a strange question. She asked if there was any more news about Tom. Eneas told her that he was doing well, but worried that he may have been upsetting her. Roseanne wasn’t upset at all. She liked having Eneas there with her.
Roseanne writes about how the medical doctor, Dr. Wynn, had just been in to see her. She told him that she had been feeling tired. Dr. Wynn noted her odd breathing and the rattle in her chest. While prescribing antibiotics, he told her that the main body of the hospital had recently been cleared of patients, and that the building would soon be demolished. She asked if Dr. Grene knew about this, and Dr. Wynn said that he was the one who had planned it. Roseanne worried about her testimony under the floorboard. She wondered how she would collect the papers and keep them secret. She asked Dr. Wynn what would happen to the apple tree in the courtyard and the daffodils. He didn’t know what Roseanne was talking about.
Dr. Grene writes in his diary that Dr. Wynn made a mess of things by telling Roseanne that the hospital would be demolished. Dr. Grene went in to see her and found her sweating in bed. John Kane was there, too, to his surprise. Dr. Grene remained suspicious of him but noted that Kane truly seemed concerned about Roseanne.
Roseanne’s face lit up when she saw Dr. Grene. She asked him to fetch her copy of Religio Medici. Dr. Grene recalls that she had mentioned it as Joe’s favorite book and that she may have shown him that Joe’s name was written inside. She told Dr. Grene that she wanted him to give the book to her son. Dr. Grene asked where the man was, but Roseanne only answered “Nazareth,” which Dr. Grene took to mean the city in Israel (246). Still, he insisted that he would obey her wish, though he knew that he could do no such thing. He wanted to ask her if she had killed her child but figures that he would also have to be crazy to have asked such a question. She had never answered any of his questions anyway.
The narrative shifts back to Roseanne’s testimony. She recognizes that she is unwell. She thinks back to a dark February when she was about seven months pregnant and unable to hide her condition under her old coat. Ireland was in the midst of the Second World War: The nation talked about “submarines out in the bay of Sligo, and the shortages, the scarcity of tea and the odd abundance of things like Beecham’s powders” (248). In those days, Roseanne had become known as “the woman in the corrugated-iron hut, the fallen woman, the witch, the creature ‘gone over the edge’” (248-49).
One day, an attractive woman wearing “an ermine-collared coat” passed by her hut and looked at Roseanne (249). The woman looked like someone with money. Her black boots were polished and her brown hair looked freshly-styled. The woman was heading to “an old house with a high wall across the road from [Roseanne’s] hut” (249). Roseanne approached the gates. Through them, she saw Jack. Roseanne wondered if this was “Mai, the grand girl of Galway that he had married” (249). The woman looked at Roseanne, whose appearance revealed the extent of her poverty. The woman remarked that Roseanne had gone off the deep end, then went through the gates. The couple went into the house together, not once looking back at Roseanne.
The weather worsened that month, and Roseanne felt ill. She was terrified about giving birth alone. She wished that she had said something to Jack or Mai, but surely, they had noticed that she was pregnant and didn’t care. Roseanne prayed to God instead. One day, that February, she combed her fingers through her hair, smudged her lips with the last bit of red lipstick in her possession, used some old plaster from the hut as facial powder, and tore a strip off of her bedsheet to make a scarf. She was going to go to Mrs. McNulty and ask for her, assuring herself that her former mother-in-law would understand. After all, she was a woman, and Roseanne had been married to her son.
The narrative shifts back to Dr. Grene who writes that the date of demolition has been set. He has received a letter from Percy Quinn, a former colleague in Sligo, inviting him to visit and look through records. Dr. Grene asked him if he knew where the Royal Irish Constabulary records were in Sligo and, if he did, if he could look for Joseph Clear’s name within them.
Dr. Grene then writes about how he went to Bet’s room the previous afternoon. He looked at her books on roses, picked up the collection, and took them to his room, where he read them in bed, “long into the night” (253). It made him happy and proud that Bet wanted to know so much about roses. He felt suddenly elated, as though her spirit were helping him in some way. Dr. Grene moved Roseanne’s copy of Religio Medici aside to concentrate on Bet’s books when a letter nearly felt out of it. The postmark on the envelope was May 1987, exactly 20 years earlier. Dr. Grene was tempted to open it.
The narrative shifts back to Roseanne’s recollection of entering Sligo to visit Mrs. McNulty. She reached the gates of her former mother-in-law’s bungalow and observed Old Tom’s beautiful garden. Roseanne felt frightened but pushed the doorbell. No one came right away. Then, Roseanne heard the noise of feet shuffling toward her. Mrs. McNulty opened the door just a little and peeked through the gap, asking Roseanne what she wanted. Roseanne was speechless for a moment then announced that she was in trouble. Mrs. McNulty quipped that she could see that. She then told Roseanne that there was nothing that she could do for her because she was no longer part of the family. Roseanne said that she knew, from Jack, that Mrs. McNulty had “had [her] own troubles in the past,” which Mrs. McNulty denied as “[f]ilthy gossip” (257). Moments later, Old Tom appeared and gently ushered Roseanne outside the gate, as though she were “a calf in the wrong part of the field” (257). He then told her that Tom was getting married and, therefore, couldn’t help her.
Roseanne went back out onto the road, feeling that there was nothing else to do. She felt angry and abandoned. She began her long walk home in the rain, thinking of the stew that awaited her and her feather bed. She took a detour to the beach at Strandhill and “[sloshed] through the shallow runs of water” (261). She used “a rusty metal arrow” on top of a bollard as her guide back home,” hoping that she could walk a straight line and get to Coney. She couldn’t go back toward the shore, where there might have been a rising flood, but she also had to move from where she was quickly, before high tide. There was a break in the storm, allowing her enough time to make it to boulders near shore. She collapsed within them, “panting, and half expired” (262).
She fell asleep and awoke in a confused state. The storm continued and dumped “enormous drenching drifts of rain” (263). Roseanne imagined that she saw someone watching her and called out to whoever it was. Hours passed. She looked down between her legs and saw blood. Then, she saw “the crown of a little head, and in another second a shoulder, all smeared in skin and blood” (263). When the baby was out, she lifted it up and bit the umbilical cord. The infant cried out. Roseanne fell asleep again. When she awoke, the storm had cleared and her baby was gone. There was no sign of it except for “the blood and the skin and cord and the placenta” (263). She looked around frantically then fell, hitting her hip against a rock. Blood still dripped from between her legs.
Roseanne walked out to the winding road and saw a white van that she recognized as an ambulance. She stood in the road and waved her arms. The men came to her with a stretcher. She asked them where her baby was, and wondered if the infant had been washed out to sea. She insisted that he wasn’t because she had kept him close to her breast. She shows them her open shirt. One of the medics noticed that she was still bleeding. They loaded her into the ambulance while she still wondered if they were abandoning her baby. After they started the engine, she fainted.
Roseanne recalls being taken to the hospital, where she bled for days and doctors didn’t expect her to live. They performed an operation to save her. Father Gaunt then arrived and assured her that she would be taken care of and told her that he knew of a place where she would be safe. Roseanne asked again about her child and each time she asked he answered with “Nazareth” (265-66).
Roseanne writes about “the two towers of the asylum looming above [her]” and crying out to see her mother only to be told that Cissy was “beyond seeing” (266). Roseanne remembers nothing past that, except for Eneas arriving one night in his army uniform and convincing the hospital staff to let him see Roseanne. He told her that he had borrowed Jack’s uniform, which had epaulettes. Eneas told her to get dressed, because the baby was outside and he was going to break Roseanne out of the hospital and take her away.
The couple crept through the hall and out of the hospital. The baby awaited in a pram across the gravel. Roseanne was barefoot but barely felt the sharp stones. Eneas took the baby into his arms and led Roseanne across the lawn and toward a small river at the bottom of the hill. Roseanne recalls that the moon was bright and reflected on the water. She heard her owl companion calling out to her. She stepped into the water which cleansed her of the dirt, lice, and blood that she was sure covered the raggedy clothes she had been found wearing when she was committed. She felt beautiful again, and Eneas handed her their son. Roseanne felt her breast fill with milk. She and Eneas stood together in the moonlight, “being stirred gently by a warm summer wind” (267). She recalls that they felt like “the first and last people on the earth” (267). Roseanne recalls this memory as a certainty and assures the reader that her “head is as clear as a glass” (267).
Several key historical figures are discussed in these chapters, in relation to both John Lavelle and Tom McNulty. Albert Pierrepoint was a famous English hangman known to have executed between 435 and 600 people before retiring in 1956. Pierrepoint’s father, Henry, and his uncle, Thomas, were hangmen before him. All had a strong sense of justice, believing that society was better off without some people, while also ensuring a humane practice—that is, doing the job smoothly so that no one suffered. Therefore, Father Gaunt notes that the job of executing John Lavelle must have been done properly—that is, Pierrepoint would have been efficient, in addition to doing the duty of eliminating those whom Father Gaunt would’ve considered detrimental to Irish society.
Eamon de Valera was a leader in the 1916 Easter Uprising, which resulted in the declaration of the Irish Republic. He then served as president of Sinn Féin in 1917, advocating for an independent Ireland, and served as president of Ireland from 1959-73. He opposed the partitioning of Ireland.
Around the time that de Valera came to power, clergymen like Father Gaunt also usurped a great deal of power. The conviction with which Father Gaunt wrote his deposition is why Roseanne feels compelled to write her testimony. The fury within the deposition also gives context to Roseanne’s earlier comment about clergymen being too certain about things, thereby incurring her distaste. Roseanne, too, hovers between knowing that Father Gaunt has some authority to speak about her life, having known her and her family for many years. On the other hand, she balks at the notion that he would believe himself to be more authoritative in recounting her life, given that he couldn’t possibly understand its complexities and intimacies.
Still, the validity of Roseanne’s memory is questionable. She has a fantasy of Eneas rescuing her from the mental hospital and wrongly recalls it as fact, insistent that the memory is valid. All that is clear is her desire for the fantasy to be true, fulfilling her desire for the harmonious nuclear family that she craved during her childhood and was still unable to fulfill in adulthood; though, like her mother, she, too, had a husband and one child.
By Sebastian Barry