Short Fiction of Flann O'Brien (Irish Literature) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Flann O’Brien
man picked up his bags, hastened to a taxi, put down his luggage and turned to the driver.
W HAT H APPENED T HEN
His back was to me, so I was not able to determine when he started, or if the talk was coming to him easily. But I saw that there was a bright blush spreading across the back of his neck and, it seemed to me, that he was emphasising his recitation with hand gestures, putting great energy and exertion into it. An ominous change came over the face of the taxi driver, who looked as though rage was taking hold of him; even though the driver was obviously offended, it seemed that John Bull managed to get halfway through a second recitation of the spiel before the driver launched into a furious attack on him, and it seemed to me that I had better be on my way.
As I departed, I glanced over my shoulder, and I saw that my student was in the custody of a big, Gaelic Garda: and sure as Easter falls on a Sunday, I knew that Garda was a Corkman.
That’s how it happened, good reader; and if my story warrants a postscript, here’s one for you: if Diarmaid Mac Murchadha played a dreadful trick on the Gaels, the Gaels have never been slow to give a little beating to Diarmaid’s friends, if God grants them the opportunity!
----
1 Translator’s Note: The original story was published in Gaelic uncial script, except for the parts spoken by the tourist. This joke is lost when the entire narrative is rendered in Roman type.
2 The tourist is mispronouncing “Baile Átha Cliath,” the Gaelic name for Dublin.
3 “Gandailín” means “little gander,” and is probably a reference to an Irish coin of the future. From 1928 to the introduction of the euro in 2002, Irish coinage featured particular animals—horse, bull, hen, hare, salmon, pig, woodcock and wolfhound—rather than heads of state or other symbols. The obverse to all of these coins was a harp.
4 In the original, the Englishman briefly starts speaking Gaelic (and in uncial script) at this point.
5 A deposed King of Leinster, who pledged allegiance to King Henry II of England in exchange for military support to reclaim his crown, thus triggering the Norman invasion of Ireland in 1171.
The Arrival and Departure of John Bull:
The Relic of English—Let it Be Put on Record! (1932) 1
by Brian Ó Nualláin
I recently found this bizarre epic beneath the floor of a house that was being demolished on Tara Street, Dublin, as the street was being widened. We have no knowledge of the author or his people, but it seems this story concerns the world of tomorrow rather than the ancient past. Not everything in this story is as unbelievable as it may seem .
On an assembly day, when the high-council was convened by Seán Mac Cumhaill, son of Airt son of Tréanmhóir of the Lineage of Baoisgne, and the seven tribes of the Gaels and the seven tribes of the Common Gaels 2 were gathered in Dun Laoghaire, they cast their eyes on the tide and the wide open sea, and it was not long before they saw, coming directly from the east, a speedy, scurrying boat with full sails, swiftly scudding across the surging, surly seas, 3 in towards the land.
T HE G IANT
As that big wide ship came ashore and its sails were taken down, the nobles of Ireland expected masses, multitudes and militias to come charging out of her, but they saw but one warrior—a tall, brawny, twisted man, misshapen, murderous, malformed, crooked-toothed and monstrous, and he slowly, sluggishly, wearily coming in from the ship to the beautiful shores of Éireann, coming to attack Seán Mac Cumhaill and the nobles of Ireland.
F LEEING B EFORE H IM
That’s what Seán and the nobles were thinking, anyway, as they saw this giant coming towards them. Wonder and revulsion overtook them at the sight of him, and they rose to their feet, pulled their livery and armour on over their bare thighs and buttocks, and departed quickly and swiftly; they went quick-footed 4 on their way, mad for road; they departed in a mass migration
W HAT H APPENED T HEN
His back was to me, so I was not able to determine when he started, or if the talk was coming to him easily. But I saw that there was a bright blush spreading across the back of his neck and, it seemed to me, that he was emphasising his recitation with hand gestures, putting great energy and exertion into it. An ominous change came over the face of the taxi driver, who looked as though rage was taking hold of him; even though the driver was obviously offended, it seemed that John Bull managed to get halfway through a second recitation of the spiel before the driver launched into a furious attack on him, and it seemed to me that I had better be on my way.
As I departed, I glanced over my shoulder, and I saw that my student was in the custody of a big, Gaelic Garda: and sure as Easter falls on a Sunday, I knew that Garda was a Corkman.
That’s how it happened, good reader; and if my story warrants a postscript, here’s one for you: if Diarmaid Mac Murchadha played a dreadful trick on the Gaels, the Gaels have never been slow to give a little beating to Diarmaid’s friends, if God grants them the opportunity!
----
1 Translator’s Note: The original story was published in Gaelic uncial script, except for the parts spoken by the tourist. This joke is lost when the entire narrative is rendered in Roman type.
2 The tourist is mispronouncing “Baile Átha Cliath,” the Gaelic name for Dublin.
3 “Gandailín” means “little gander,” and is probably a reference to an Irish coin of the future. From 1928 to the introduction of the euro in 2002, Irish coinage featured particular animals—horse, bull, hen, hare, salmon, pig, woodcock and wolfhound—rather than heads of state or other symbols. The obverse to all of these coins was a harp.
4 In the original, the Englishman briefly starts speaking Gaelic (and in uncial script) at this point.
5 A deposed King of Leinster, who pledged allegiance to King Henry II of England in exchange for military support to reclaim his crown, thus triggering the Norman invasion of Ireland in 1171.
The Arrival and Departure of John Bull:
The Relic of English—Let it Be Put on Record! (1932) 1
by Brian Ó Nualláin
I recently found this bizarre epic beneath the floor of a house that was being demolished on Tara Street, Dublin, as the street was being widened. We have no knowledge of the author or his people, but it seems this story concerns the world of tomorrow rather than the ancient past. Not everything in this story is as unbelievable as it may seem .
On an assembly day, when the high-council was convened by Seán Mac Cumhaill, son of Airt son of Tréanmhóir of the Lineage of Baoisgne, and the seven tribes of the Gaels and the seven tribes of the Common Gaels 2 were gathered in Dun Laoghaire, they cast their eyes on the tide and the wide open sea, and it was not long before they saw, coming directly from the east, a speedy, scurrying boat with full sails, swiftly scudding across the surging, surly seas, 3 in towards the land.
T HE G IANT
As that big wide ship came ashore and its sails were taken down, the nobles of Ireland expected masses, multitudes and militias to come charging out of her, but they saw but one warrior—a tall, brawny, twisted man, misshapen, murderous, malformed, crooked-toothed and monstrous, and he slowly, sluggishly, wearily coming in from the ship to the beautiful shores of Éireann, coming to attack Seán Mac Cumhaill and the nobles of Ireland.
F LEEING B EFORE H IM
That’s what Seán and the nobles were thinking, anyway, as they saw this giant coming towards them. Wonder and revulsion overtook them at the sight of him, and they rose to their feet, pulled their livery and armour on over their bare thighs and buttocks, and departed quickly and swiftly; they went quick-footed 4 on their way, mad for road; they departed in a mass migration
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