A review of Grappling with Ghosts: a vivid portrait of postwar Ireland and London

Title: Grappling with Ghosts: Childhood Memories from Postwar Ireland and London

Author: James Harvey

Publisher: Lulu.com

ISBN & Price: 9781300960829, $24.95

Buy book here. Reviewed by Rus Bradburd

Grappling with Ghosts, the new memoir by James Harvey, is so rich in detail you can nearly smell the horses and burning coal, taste the soda bread, and feel the caning on your backside. The author’s razor-sharp memory from his time growing up in the rural West of Ireland’s County Donegal, then London, before finally leaving for Philadelphia, make this book as much a living document of history as it is a memoir. In fact, the book is likely as engrossing as any oral history project from that era. Anyone interested in the 1950s and 1960s in Ireland and London will find themselves at an endless buffet of misfortune, struggle, broken families, and ultimately triumph, at least on a personal level as Harvey leaves for America. This is, however, hardly a feel-good story of redemption, as the scars—emotional and physical—are something that has stuck with the author throughout his life.

The Harvey family, like most, lived a modest life in the wild West of Ireland. The family moved to England for typical reasons after the war (Ireland was neutral during World War II). But the family was fractured due to the volatile father. Among the most compelling parts of the book are detailed after they arrive in badly damaged post-war London. Bomb sites and toppled buildings serve as a playground for local boys in a nation that sacrificed so much to defeat the Axis powers. With few sports available to young men at the time, Harvey becomes enamored with—what else in a gritty London still lacking electricity?— boxing. Soon, though, it was on to books, which he consumed voraciously.

The book opens with a powerful opening line: “I wasn’t there when my father made his most serious assault on my mother.” Immediately after this, however, the book nearly stalls: we meet nine characters in the first 18 lines of the narrative. The subsequent pages have so many names of relatives, neighbors, and friends that it becomes a bit frustrating, as though the author is spinning his wheels on a muddy Irish road trying to get traction.  

But this minor weakness soon turns into the book’s strength, and it never really falters again in ways that detract from the experience. Or perhaps the reader is on high alert because this is an author whose grasp of life in rural Ireland and hardscrabble London brings history to life in a way seldom seen in nonfiction, either in memoirs or history books. Harvey, like an Irishman waiting for his Guinness to settle before the first sip, is in no hurry, and the rich background and anecdotes make for compelling reading. (It should be noted that the 40 photographs—some of his family and others more general historical shots—very much enrich the book.) At the heart of the book are timeless and archetypal issues of masculinity. The author is constantly trying to connect with the men in his life, due to his highly problematic father.

Midway through the book, Harvey credits Irish dramatist and poet Seamus MacManus, who, among other things, helped reinterpret old Irish folk tales for a more contemporary reader. Harvey writes, “MacManus could be counted in the great tradition of Donegal historians who saved Ireland’s memory of itself.” The same could be said on a smaller scale of James Harvey and his Grappling with Ghosts in this richly meticulous memoir. Recommended for anyone interested in the post-war history of the west of Ireland and London.

Rus Bradburd is the author of “Paddy on the Hardwood” and four other books. He lives in Belfast and New Mexico.