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Love: A Novel Hardcover – June 23, 2020
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One summer's evening, two men meet up in a Dublin restaurant.
Drinking pals back in their youth, now married and with grown up children, their lives have taken seemingly similar paths. But Joe has a secret he needs to tell Davy, and Davy has a sorrow he wants to keep from Joe. Both are not the men they used to be.
Joe has left his wife and family for another woman, Jessica. Davy knows her too, or should - she was the girl of their dreams four decades earlier, the girl with the cello in George's pub. As Joe's story unfolds across Dublin - pint after pint, pub after pub - so too do the memories of what eventually drove Davy from Ireland: his first encounter with Faye, the lively woman who would become his wife; his father's somber disapproval; the pained spaces left behind when a parent dies.
As the two friends try to reconcile their versions of the past over the course of one night, Love offers a delightfully comic yet moving portrait of the many forms love can take throughout our lives.
- Print length336 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherViking
- Publication dateJune 23, 2020
- Dimensions5.7 x 1.06 x 8.53 inches
- ISBN-101984880454
- ISBN-13978-1984880451
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“[Love] isn’t so much about what happens, or happened once upon a time, as it is about the mystically inaccurate nature of language . . . Doyle puts feeling first in this novel by putting it last, in the final pages . . . in the end, you see that the sacred world of the two friends was lurking in all that preceded this final scene, and concealing itself so successfully that they themselves did not realize how much they cared for each other.” —The New York Times Book Review
“Love drew me in gently and moved me deeply as [Doyle’s] old friends open up to each other over one long pub crawl. On this side of the pandemic, I read it as a hymn to the small but irreplaceable pleasures of face-to-face chat in public places.” —Emma Donoghue, The Guardian
“This story, with its beer-inspired and home-brewed philosophy, its funny and painful moments, is about love . . . and the remembrance of love between friends, lovers, and family . . . Doyle’s narrative style is fast-paced and deceptively easy to read . . . [dialogue] goes down as smoothly as gulps of beer. . . [a] brilliant two-character story.” —The Boston Globe
"Doyle is justly renowned for his whip-smart dialogue, which combines salty humor and the loving use of local vernacular . . . there is beauty and compassion in [his] sculpted, spare writing . . . Love is a reminder that its author is one to treasure.” —The Economist
“Doyle, the author of tales that feature crackling wit and dialogue […] knows what he’s doing . . . [A] subtle, observant novel.” —The Minneapolis Star Tribune
“[A] funny, poignant, profane, unpredictable conversation about friendship, marriage, parenthood, aging, Dublin pubs and the eternal mystery of the title.” —Tampa Bay Times
“Here is a paean to all things Irish. Fans of [Doyle] will be glad to follow old mates Davy and Joe through a pub crawl that is both elegiac and hilarious.” —The Washington Post
“Love marks a new turn for Doyle. It is a tender and deceptively complex book that touches not just on matters of the heart, but on memory, friendship, masculinity, fatherhood, home and the difficulty of true communication… Doyle, as he did in Smile, pulls off a final act that is profound and elegiac.” —Times Literary Supplement (London)
“Deeply moving… [with] a beautifully handled and powerful reveal.” Guardian
“Roddy Doyle has never lacked ambition, writing complex novels that appear straightforward: heavy on the dialogue, simple in the language, deep in the lives of ordinary working people… [Love] is devastating.” —The Times (London)
“A praise-song to the Irish pub . . . the reader is dropped into the familiar, perfect rhythm of Roddy Doyle’s effortless dialogue . . . Laced into the good humour and camaraderie is an examination of mid-to-late life, as both men measure themselves against their younger selves and against each other.” —Financial Times
“The words said and not said build up their own weirdly propulsive inarticulacy yet, just when you wonder if it’s all a bit of a boozy journey through the emotional deep freeze of male friendship, Doyle brings it to a masterly conclusion . . . A first-rate novel about the different bonds between men and the ineffable mysteries of love.” —Daily Mail
“This witty, satisfying novel about male friendship, aging, and guilt from Doyle dramatizes language’s inadequacies when it comes to affairs of the heart . . . [T]he two men are nothing if not good company. By closing time, Doyle has focused the novel’s rambling energy into an elegiac and sobering climax. This one is a winner.” —Publishers Weekly
“[A] freewheeling tale of longtime mates Joe and Davy . . . As the two track back through the years of their marriages, a mixture of regret and melancholy permeates what's both spoken and left unspoken. And, yet, at the end of this long night's journey into day, we are buoyed against the sadness by what is finally a portrait of love in the face of life.” —Booklist
“Love is altogether spellbinding . . . [Doyle] is as a wizard at dialogue once again here in capturing every ricochet of deceit, evasion, and hilariously hidden meaning in the course of the night’s talking. The whole book is audacious, richly layered and often comic, but ultimately deeply moving. . . . It is quite beautiful, and not an ounce overworked. Move over Socrates and watch an Irish master of dialogue at work.” —Irish Examiner
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
-Exactly a year?
-That’s what I said, Davy. A year ago – yesterday.
-You remember the date?
-I do, yeah.
-Jesus, Joe.
He saw her at the end of a corridor and he knew. Immediately. She was exactly the same. Even from that far off. Even though she was only a shape, a dark, slim shape – a silhouette – in the centre of the late afternoon light that filled the glass door behind her.
-She was never slim, I said.
He shrugged.
-I don’t even know what slim means, really, he said.
He smiled.
-Same here, I said.
-I just said it, he said. –The word. She was a tall shape – instead.
-Okay.
-Not a roundy shape.
-She’s aged well, I said. –That what you’re telling me.
-I am, he said. –And she has.
-Where was the corridor? I asked him.
-The school, he said.
-What school?
-The school, he said again.
-We didn’t know her in school, I said.
I knew he didn’t mean the school we’d both gone to. We’d known each other that long. I’d said it – that we hadn’t known her in school – to try to get him to be himself. To give back an answer that would get us laughing. He was the funny one.
-My kids’ school, he said.
-Hang on, I said. –It was a parent-teacher meeting?
-The woman of your dreams stepped out of the sun and into a parent-teacher meeting?
-Yep.
-Thirty years after the last time you saw her, I said. –More, actually. Way more. Thirty-six or seven years.
-Yeah, he said. –That’s it, more or less. What did you say there? That she stepped out of the sun.
-I think so, yeah.
-Well, that’s it, he said -That’s what happened. She did.
I didn’t live in Ireland. I went over to Dublin three or four times a year, to see my father. I used to bring my family but in more recent years I’d travelled alone. The kids were grown up and gone and my wife, Faye, didn’t like flying, and she wasn’t keen on the drive to Holyhead and the ferry.
-Your dad never liked me, so he didn’t.
-He did.
-He did not, she said. -He thought I was a slut. He said it, sure.
-He didn’t say that.
-More or less, he did. You told me that, yourself, remember. I’m not making it up. He never liked me, so I won’t be going around pretending I like him. I hate that house. It’s miserable.
-She kissed me, Joe said now.
-In the school?
The man I knew – I thought I knew; I used to know – would have answered, ‘No, in the arse,’ or something like that.
-Yes, he said. –She remembered me.
I didn’t know Joe well.
I used to.
We left school for good on the same day. He got work; I went to college, to UCD. He had money, wages – a salary. I had none until after I’d graduated. But we kept in touch. We both lived at home, a ten-minute walk from each other. We listened to records in my house about once a week, in the front room. He bought most of the records; mine was the house where we could blast them out. We played them so loud we could put our hands on the window glass and feel the song we were hearing. My mother was dead and my father didn’t seem to mind. He told me years later he just wanted to see me happy. He endured the noise – the Pistols, Ian Dury, the Clash, Elvis Costello – because he thought it made me happy. I’d have been happy if he’d hammered at the wall with a shoe or his fist and told me to turn it fuckin’ down. I’d have been happy if I’d felt I had to fight him.
We went drinking, myself and Joe, when I had the money. At Christmas and in October, when I came back from working in West Germany and London, before I had to spend the money I’d earned on books and bus fares. We’d get quickly drunk and roar. I rushed straight into anger. I thumped things, and myself. I let myself go, glimpsed the man I could become. I pulled back, and copied Joe. He drank, I drank. He laughed, I laughed. I roared when he roared.
-She remembered you?
-Yeah, he said. –She did. Immediately. Like I said.
I looked at him again. I could see why she’d have recognised him. The boy – the young man – was still there. His head was the same shape. He’d worn glasses back then and he still did – or, he did again – the same kind of black-framed glasses. He still had his hair. It was grey now, most of it, but it had never been very dark. He’d put on weight but not much, and none of it around his face and neck.
-Where were you? I asked him.
-In the school, he said. –I told you.
-Where, though?
-Outside the maths room, he said. –Waiting.
-For your turn with the teacher.
-Yeah, he said. –There were four or five people – mostly mothers – ahead of me. And I’d no one else to see – I’d seen all the others. We divided the list.
-Hang on, I said. –Trish was there as well?
Trish was his wife.
-Yeah, he said. –She was somewhere else. Queueing up for another teacher.
-You kissed the love of your life while Trish was in the building?
-Big building, he said. –It’s a fuckin’ school – in fairness.
That was more like the man I thought I knew. The man I’d wanted to be.
-You kissed her, I said.
-She kissed me.
-Where was Trish, exactly?
-Exactly, Davy? Exactly? Is this a murder investigation?
-Okay.
-For fuck sake, Davy.
-Okay – sorry. Go on.
-The home economics room, he said. –Or wordwork. Somewhere else. We took four teachers each, to get it over with as quickly as possible. Even at that, it took all afternoon. It’s the only chance the teachers get to talk to adults. So, they fuckin’ grab it. I was lucky.
-How come?
-I got to meet the maths teacher, he said. –A gobshite, by the way. But I was outside his door. I just happened to be there.
-And she walked in while you were waiting.
-Right place, right time. Yeah. Like I said – I was lucky.
-One of your kids does home economics and woodwork?
-What?
-You said home economics or woodwork. Trish was in one of those rooms.
-You’re being Columbo again, Davy.
-Lay off.
-I just meant – like, for example. The rooms. Trish was somewhere else, in one of the other rooms, you know. Way off somewhere in the building.
-Which kid was it?
I’d never met his children and I didn’t know their names. We told each other about the kids, brought each other up to date whenever we met, and then forgot about them. I hadn’t seen Trish in twenty years.
-Holly, he said.
-You sure?
-Yeah, he said. –Of course, I am. Fuck off.
-Okay.
-You’re being a bit of a prick, Davy.
-I’m not.
-You are.
-It’s a bit of a shock.
-Why does it even matter?
-Okay.
-To you.
-I know.
I’d never seen him with his children but I knew he was a good father. And I knew what that meant. He was reliable. He’d given them their routines. He’d come home at much the same time every evening. He’d picked them up from football or gymnastics and he’d always been there on time. They’d seen him filling the dishwasher and the washing machine. They’d seen him cooking at the weekends; they’d probably preferred his cooking to Trish’s. He’d served them Fanta in wine glasses on Saturday nights. He’d told them he loved them, twice a day, start and end. He’d read to them – the same book, again and again - gone swimming with them, slept on a chair beside them when they’d been kept overnight in Temple Street Children’s Hospital. He’d read about asthma, eczema, OCD, intersexuality. He wasn’t a man who didn’t know what subjects his kids had done in school. He would never have pretended that he was that man.
He was right. It shouldn’t have mattered. I shouldn’t have cared. But it did. And I did.
Product details
- Publisher : Viking; First Edition (June 23, 2020)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 336 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1984880454
- ISBN-13 : 978-1984880451
- Item Weight : 1 pounds
- Dimensions : 5.7 x 1.06 x 8.53 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,028,404 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #2,794 in Friendship Fiction (Books)
- #14,103 in Family Life Fiction (Books)
- #47,635 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Roddy Doyle is the author of eight novels, a collection of stories, and Rory & Ita, a memoir of his parents. He won the Booker Prize in 1993 for Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha. He lives and works in Dublin.
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
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Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the dialogue in the book sharp and interesting. They describe it as a fantastic read with outstanding character development. However, some readers feel the pacing is slow and boring. Opinions are mixed on the story quality, with some finding it relatable and enjoyable, while others feel there are no clear plot points at the end.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers praise the dialogue quality. They find it sharp, interesting, and beautifully written. The book is described as a conversation between two male friends and their close communities.
"...of time unfold in a gentle, humane work propelled by sharp and real dialogue. Brilliant." Read more
"...two old friends who haven't seen one another in some time, is almost entirely dialogue. It could almost serve as a script by itself...." Read more
"...Beautifully written." Read more
"...Doyle's genius is his ability to capture dialogue w such honesty and clarity, as though we were in the pub listening to Joe and Davy...." Read more
Customers enjoy the book's readability. They find it enjoyable, brilliant, and an excellent audiobook. The brogue enhances the colorful Irish characters and makes the story relatable.
"...Brilliant." Read more
"Excellent book to do as an audio. The brogue enhances the already colorful Irishmen" Read more
"loved this book....a story that rings true...." Read more
"...Brilliant!" Read more
Customers appreciate the character development.
"I loved the characters. The dialogue became a bit redundant after awhile, but I was glad to have read this novel." Read more
"...over pints of beer, but the setting, the stories and the characters made it all very cosy." Read more
"Outstanding character development..." Read more
Customers have mixed opinions about the story. Some find it relatable and enjoyable, with a good story of relationships using the vernacular. The mystery holds this well-constructed story together. However, others feel there is no real story, no drama, and no conclusion.
"...The mystery holds this well constructed story together, but it is the subtlety of characterization, the author's respect for the ways in which..." Read more
"The plot progression was so tedious I gave up two thirds through and read the last 20 pages." Read more
"loved this book....a story that rings true...." Read more
"I heard the author interviewed on NPR and it sounded like a really good story. The author when speaking was quite interesting...." Read more
Customers find the pacing of the book slow and boring, calling it an uninspiring novel by Roddy Doyle.
"This astonishingly banal novel by the otherwise capable Irish novelist Roddy Doyle was a disappointment and a bore from the outset...." Read more
"...I found the dialogue in the book to be stunted, shallow and boring. The characters were one dimensional and I couldn’t connect with them...." Read more
"I think more of a mans book. Enjoyed but not a page turner. Got a little bored!" Read more
"...What a complete waste of time." Read more
Top reviews from the United States
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- Reviewed in the United States on March 31, 2021A graceful yet foot-stomping trek through life through the lens of two late middle-agers (verge of 60) reuniting for the first time in years. David, the narrator, comes back to Dublin from his home in England, and they relive their sodden youths over many pints together. They also mark a changed, altered, Dublin. The ravages of time unfold in a gentle, humane work propelled by sharp and real dialogue. Brilliant.
- Reviewed in the United States on August 10, 2020Several years ago an author I respect told a hilarious story about spending a year in Ireland, writing a novel there, then hiding it away so that it "never would see light of day." His reasoning was that he felt he lacked the mastery of the rhythm of the brogue, so essential to any story based in Ireland. (He ended up making all the characters deaf, which made all present roar.) Roddy Doyle, being a native, has no such problem. This account of a night-long pub crawl by two old friends who haven't seen one another in some time, is almost entirely dialogue. It could almost serve as a script by itself. I had problems with some of the content, but the foul mouthed, increasingly incoherent exchanges rang true, and the observations of one of the two characters were truly moving.
- Reviewed in the United States on October 9, 2020I am interested in the Irish culture. The story was about 2 men who had been close friends but drifted apart to become only acquaintances until major life changes occurred later in life. It wasn't what I expected. The only culture was that of the Irish pub, which did feel accurate. I may have enjoyed it more if i had not had erroneous expectations. The writing was done in conversation style and I sometimes had to stop and re-read to figure out which man was speaking. Not my favorite.
- Reviewed in the United States on August 30, 2020From the tight focus of the opening, the story widens to contain a whole community of quiet lives, each of which is changed by the disappearance of two young sisters. The mystery holds this well constructed story together, but it is the subtlety of characterization, the author's respect for the ways in which individual lives are shaped, that made me sorry to leave the world Phillips has created. Beautifully written.
- Reviewed in the United States on July 1, 2020Excellent book to do as an audio. The brogue enhances the already colorful Irishmen
- Reviewed in the United States on July 11, 2020loved this book....a story that rings true. Doyle's genius is his ability to capture dialogue w such honesty and clarity, as though we were in the pub listening to Joe and Davy. Doyle shows us men can express themselves after all.
- Reviewed in the United States on July 14, 2020Avoiding specific spoilers here, Love left everything up in the air. It’s a meandering, drunken night, full of flashbacks and trivia that only drives home the author’s failing health and approaching old age. The sum of the whole is even less than its parts. We learn nothing profound about the human condition here.
- Reviewed in the United States on September 3, 2020The plot progression was so tedious I gave up two thirds through and read the last 20 pages.
Top reviews from other countries
- Terrence EdgarReviewed in Canada on July 22, 2021
5.0 out of 5 stars A night in a pub with 2 guys
The book encompasses a single night of 2 friends getting together after not seeing each other for years. The go from pub to pub talking about what has happened in their life in the meantime. They get more and more drunk as the night progresses.
The conversations are very true to love although there is a lot of drunken behaviour. Overall an interesting read.
- Rolf HeimannReviewed in Germany on March 31, 2022
4.0 out of 5 stars A pub crawl to fate
If anyone can depict authentic Dublin pub talk it is Roddy Doyle. If anyone can dissect human interaction over a long series of pints look no further - it's Roddy Doyle. Go along for the ride but be prepared to have souls revealed, including your own. Three quarters of the book might find you wanting to stop reading because the drunken wisdoms seem too irrelevant. But then a maelstrom sucks you straight to the gates of death. It touched me deeply.
-
Elisabetta NardiReviewed in Italy on July 10, 2021
5.0 out of 5 stars Sometimes you can find Love in a pub
Una piccola gemma irlandese e, al contempo, universale. Di cosa parliamo quando parliamo d’amore e siamo due amici irlandesi di mezza età in in un pub senza età di Dublino? Letteratura raffinata e profonda, seppure inevitabilmente ironica.
- malcolm lambeReviewed in France on November 16, 2020
2.0 out of 5 stars Boring
What happened? He used to be a great writer. I persevered with this boring tale until half way and then gave up.
- Neasa MacErleanReviewed in the United Kingdom on November 7, 2020
5.0 out of 5 stars Great subject (but does it peter out a bit?)
I was fascinated by this at the start but it seemed to stall mid-way through. Also, I imagine that men and women will respond differently to this long overnight conversation between two men in various Dublin bars about the people they love. As a female, I was very heartened to hear how much they loved the women in their lives. But the subject is a very ambitious one and, with the two men becoming more drunk, it must have been hard to write. One tale of love seemed compelling at the start but became uncertain by the end. And another tale seemed almost to appear from nowhere.