The Mammy is the first book in the Agnes Browne trilogy, which deals with a working class Irish family during the 1960s. The book is slim, finishing with large-sized font, just under 175 pages. Agnes Browne is the Mammy the book speaks of — she’s the mother of seven who has found herself recently widowed. Forced to find a way to care for her family, the opening scene involves her going down to the Department of Social Welfare to pick up her check, yet the office has yet to receive her husband’s death certificate (he dies only hours before the book begins). Agnes wastes no time.
Where most writers would find tragedy, O’Carroll finds humor. Filled with silly moments and cursing, one could claim this to be a standard “Irish tale” in the sense that it deals with all the typical elements: a mother forced to work hard to support her family, their lack of financial security, a father now gone, but two things this book has working for it. One is the brevity. The novel is so short and thus moves very quickly. It goes from one plot moment to the next, and rarely is there a scene that does not incorporate humor.
That brings me to the second advantage — the humor works to the story’s advantage, for without it many of the scenes might have fallen to the victim of melodrama. Agnes is full of cursing and spunk. As a mother of seven, she admits to never having experienced an “organism” during intercourse. After her husband dies, O’Carroll writes: “Agnes’s thoughts were: Well, fuck you, Redser Browne, leavin’ me with seven orphans and not an organism to show for it.”
The Mammy is a fun, light, unpretentious read, though not a particularly deep one. The characters are likeable and the tale will keep you wondering what happens in the next book. O’Carroll isn’t a poetic writer and his method of storytelling is rather straightforward. I can see why he broke these short novels into three, rather than trying to compile them all into one.
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