‘Blue Road: The Edna O’Brien Story’ Review: Illuminating Portrait of the Great Irish Writer Explores the Solitude of Success

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As I delve deeper into the captivating life story of Edna O’Brien, I am left in awe of this extraordinary woman who defied conventions and carved her own path through the labyrinth of life. Her tale is one of resilience, passion, and an unquenchable thirst for creativity that transcends societal norms and expectations.

In a journal entry from May 1967, actress Jessie Buckley reads: “Ah, the trees, they seem so tormented. If someone were to question me about the Irish character, I’d point them towards these trees – damaged and bare, yet unyieldingly resilient.” This statement beautifully encapsulates Edna O’Brien’s complex, love-hate bond with her homeland. Simultaneously, it roots this personal portrayal in nature, a sanctuary that the writer found solace and greater freedom within, particularly in the fields of County Clare, more so than any other place throughout her tumultuous life.

Listening to Flannery O’Brien in Sinéad O’Shea’s captivating documentary is like savoring music. Her words, drawn from numerous archival interviews and especially her heart-to-heart with the filmmaker late in her life, unfold smoothly, much like polished nuggets of prose – vibrant, precise, evocative. She was a masterful writer, even in casual dialogue, yet she was always thoughtful, down-to-earth, and unafraid to express the truth candidly, without sugarcoating it.

Similar to numerous authors and artists, O’Brien took refuge in her artistic pursuits as a means to flee from the harsh realities of life, creating more alluring lives within her imagination during her childhood years. Her father, a heavy drinker and compulsive gambler, squandered the wealth of his noble family, gradually selling off their farmland until only the grand house remained. By the time she was born in 1930, the money had already vanished.

By that time, her mother, who had suffered a marriage marked by mistreatment and cruelty, was in her forties. Edna was the youngest among four siblings. Reflecting on life at the age of 90, she recalls that her mother initially didn’t want her but later developed an intense affection: “I became her protector, her barrier, her purpose for being, longing for me deeply and completely.

In a candid manner, O’Brien reflects on the long-lasting impact of childhood trauma. A poignant old recording, taken years after the author fled to England in effectual exile and later reconciled with her religious parents she once defied, depicts her sitting on the window sill of the living room while her father quietly croons “Danny Boy” from an armchair below. She confesses that she cannot separate these tender family moments from recollections of his violent actions towards them. Remarkably, as she nears her own end, her thoughts of him are among the most heartrending insights in the film about personal experiences.

In the early 1950s, she chose to escape her confining family environment and a small town filled with 27 pubs, which felt suffocating, by moving to Dublin. Over time, she secured a job writing a weekly magazine column and always carried a budget version of T.S. Eliot’s introduction to James Joyce. Joyce’s works served as her inspiration for creating her own fiction, culminating in the publication of a highly-acclaimed biography about him in 1999. However, Gabriel Byrne, one interviewer noted, the Irish literary world during that period was predominantly male-dominated, and women were not welcomed in their social circles.

In a significant turn of events, O’Brien found herself venturing into new horizons when she crossed paths with the cosmopolitan author Ernest Gébler. Their shared weekends at his countryside retreat marked the beginning of this encounter. At 40 years old, Gébler was a divorced man, and a Communist, a political stance rooted in his Czech heritage. A jarring incident occurred when O’Brien’s family, offended by their relationship, lashed out upon learning about it through an anonymous message. Despite this unexpected upheaval, O’Brien ultimately chose to tie the knot with him.

In her novels, the impact of her marriage, similar to her upbringth with her father, tends to shape a rather gloomy depiction of men. When asked directly, she candidly expresses that in general, men are often superficial and dishonest: “They demand a woman to be a divine figure, a seductress, a mother, and a financial provider all at once. The only positive aspect about them is the occasional sexual satisfaction they provide.

Back in 1960, when I saw Edna O’Brien’s first novel “The Country Girls” hit the shelves, it sparked a storm in my marriage that only grew stronger as her success overshadowed mine. We had two boys, Carlo and Sasha, who were always keen observers. They didn’t mince words when they described our relationship as a volatile mix of chemicals that just didn’t blend right. I was supposed to be the renowned author, not her; feeling overshadowed and unjustly treated left a bitter taste in my mouth.

After discovering O’Brien’s diaries, Gébler started making notes, asserting that he was instrumental in molding her work. He even insinuated that he had penned an entire manuscript from scratch. As the books started selling and royalty checks rolled in, he compelled her to authenticate them and surrender them, keeping a meager weekly allowance for household expenses for her. His disdain towards her is clear in his writing in a family photo album beneath a picture of her with the boys: “Before I turned her into a celebrity and decay took hold.

As O’Brien’s home life grew stormy, she faced a torrent of criticism, not only from the Irish government but also the Church. The portrayal of female desire and sexuality in The Country Girls, the first installment of her trilogy, earned the novel the label of obscenity by these institutions. A local priest even gathered copies for a public burning, and in Ireland, the book was prohibited, along with all her works at one time.

A scholar focusing on Irish Studies remarks that O’Brien was perceived as betraying family values, uncovering secrets about Ireland, a nation still largely closed off to outsiders, and highlighting the profound social disparity and pervasive dread of authority in Irish society.

Throughout her lifetime, O’Brien published numerous books (a total of 34 works including fiction, non-fiction, and poetry), and she consistently stood firm against the oppressive, patriarchal structures prevalent in Ireland during that time. However, this defiance did not earn her favor among the self-centered male writers of the country.

It’s intriguing that although Edna O’Brien’s work consistently explores women’s pursuit of independence and love on their own terms, a characteristic often linked with significant voices in feminist literature, she herself did not identify as a feminist, and the feminist movements of the 1960s and 1970s seemed to overlook her.

Notable American authors such as John Updike, J.D. Salinger, Philip Roth, and Henry Miller endorsed her work. In The Observer, Kingsley Amis selected The Country Girls as one of his top books for the year. Although female writers like Louise Kennedy and Doireann Ní Ghríofa appear in the film’s discussions, there’s no evidence of backing from prominent women authors contemporaneous to O’Brien.

The document delves deeply into her extravagant socialite phase in London following her separation from Gébler and gaining financial freedom. After a ten-year stretch of critically and commercially successful novels outside Ireland, she penned the screenplay for “Zee and Co.“, a love triangle drama starring Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Caine, and Susannah York. Although she considers it poorly handled by the filmmakers, the £39,000 earnings allowed her to purchase a mansion in Chelsea, turning her soirees into celebrity hotspots.

O’Brien mentions that she had the pleasure of hosting renowned figures such as Princess Margaret, Judy Garland, Harold Pinter, and Jane Fonda among others. Paul McCartney dropped by and played a song for her children, Shirley MacLaine attempted to decipher her past lives through palm reading, and Marianne Faithfull strolled around without shoes while composing tunes to Yeats’ verses. Robert Mitchum, Marlon Brando, and Richard Burton were among the many eligible bachelors who expressed interest in her.

O’Brien admits to still being puzzled about how she became acquainted with so many individuals,” she says, hinting at a quiet amusement. Towards the conclusion of the movie – and her life – she reflects that although she savored that dazzling social circle for a while, it wasn’t those years that lingered in her memory but instances from her childhood: women tending cattle, solitude in the fields, her mother’s persistent cough.

O’Shea meticulously studies a vast collection of historical resources – including photos, videos, news clips, and home movies – to delve into the changes in her subject’s literary themes over time, along with exploring significant events in her subject’s private life.

Working alongside R.D. Liang, O’Brien delved into psychoanalysis and LSD experiments, which seemingly liberated her writing style yet revealed an underlying aggression within her creations, as suggested by one source. A six-year romance with a married British politician left her creatively barren for an extended period, and after years of extravagant living, she found herself financially depleted, ultimately leading to the sale of her home.

In the late eighties, she served as a creative writing instructor at City College in New York. One of her students was Walter Mosley, who gratefully attributes O’Brien’s supportive guidance as crucial in his shift from writing short stories to penning novels like “Devil in a Blue Dress” in 1990. Simultaneously, during a difficult time, O’Brien contemplated taking her own life while on a book tour; however, a timely message from Sasha intervened and changed her mind.

The movie explores the debate surrounding the later novels she penned, which tackled the conflict in Northern Ireland’s Troubles and faced criticism for favorably depicting Republicans. She defended herself by stating that all previous works were biased from the opposing side. Her writing continued to be daring and significant until her final days, most notably her second-to-last novel, “The Little Red Chairs“, which narrates the encounters of a fictional Balkan War felon with the women of an Irish village.

In O’Shea’s movie, a melancholic undertone emerges not primarily from O’Brien herself, who lacked self-pity, but rather from the reality that her recognition as one of Ireland’s literary greats was largely late in coming. Additionally, there’s a sense of sadness in her unfortunate romantic choices, given how profoundly her work delved into women’s experiences with sex and love. “I believe there were gentler men out there,” she admits. “But we are who we are.” (paraphrased)

O’Shea, together with editor Gretta Ohle, craft a riveting depiction that honors O’Brien by intertwining her life experiences. However, it wasn’t the accolades, the glamourous fame, or the illustrious awards that remained deeply etched in O’Brien’s heart at the end. Instead, it was the profound impact of her early years that lingered.

If you’ve ever struggled with a complex relationship with a parent, memories of your last encounter with them during their hospitalization might tug at your heartstrings. “It can get lonely sometimes, Edna,” she remembers him saying, highlighting that it was the most truthful thing he had ever spoken. “He was quick-tempered and foolish, but in him, as in all of us, there was always a bit of child.

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2024-11-14 02:57