As is, The Mammy doesn’t have any fat. Had this book been longer, for example, the standard means in which he writes could have easily become a slog, since the book lacks any real moments of “highness” the way a book like Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes does. (Just to bring up another Irish writer while I'm on the subject).
Angela’s Ashes, while it does suffer from moments of overwriting, it is also full of wonderful poetic phrasings and exchanges that a book like The Mammy lacks. In other words, McCourt seems to be the better overall talent of the two writers, yet O’Carroll is more concise. As is, The Mammy is a fun, light read, but I would have liked to see more moments of depth sprinkled in, more acute observations, and some poetic phrasings.
But as is, I think readers will enjoy it. I should also note that the last line in the book is a very good one, and it is an effective way to keep readers wondering as they pursue the next book in the series.
The next two books are The Chisellers and The Grammy. O’Carroll proves that not all Irish characters need to be wallowing in misery and that humor is something that can be found everywhere. Having said that, I’m on to the next book. I’ll keep you posted.
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