By Kevin Holohan
Holohan's skill to write down the type of free-flowing naturalistic discussion that so potently conveys the anarchic spirit of schoolboy struggle . . . is grounded by means of a shadow play of macabre references to horrors that ghost round the edges of the narrative, many eerily just like many of the extra notorious actual lifestyles studies that experience emerged in fresh years.--The Irish TimesCombining the spirit of Kingsley Amis's fortunate Jim with a bawdy evisceration of hypocrisy in old-school Catholic schooling, The Brothers' Lot is a comic book satire that tells the tale of the Brothers of Godly Coercion tuition for younger Boys of Meager potential, a dilapidated Dickensian establishment run through an assemblage of eccentric, insane, and infrequently nasty celibate Brothers. the college is in decline and the Brothers starvation for a miracle to maneuver their founder, the Venerable Saorseach O'Rahilly, alongside the trail to Sainthood.When a potential miracle offers itself, the Brothers fervently grab on it with the aid of the ethically pliant Diocesan Investigator, himself hungry for a miracle to spice up his profession. the college at the same time comes below hazard from unusual outdoors forces. The more durable the Brothers attempt to protect the college, the more serious issues appear to get. It takes an intruder, Finbar Sullivan, a tender scholar newly arrived on the college, to determine that the resource of the risk may well in truth lie contained in the college itself. because the miracle unravels, the Brothers' efforts to maintain it unharness a disastrous chain of events.Tackling a significant topic from the indirect standpoint of satire, The Brothers' Lot explores the tradition that allowed abuses inside of church-run associations in eire to move unchecked for many years.
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Quite a Gaelic footballer and a hurler, I believe,” mused Brother Kennedy approvingly. Finbar felt himself severely on the spot. He could sense the swell of scrutiny press around him. He had to do something or he would be marked as a “good pupil,” and it would be doubtful if he could make it through the week. “Only when the soccer season is over, Brother,” he found himself saying. It was like someone had gotten inside his head and was finding new circuits in his makeup that he had never known before.
More hope than he could ever hold out for the pathetic school team. The scholarship boys, mostly from the local flats and tenements, had the audacity to show their ingratitude to the Brothers by being good at soccer only. It was typical of bloody Dubliners. The more malleable boys who came from the suburbs because their parents were under some illusion about the reputation of the school were just not rough enough for Gaelic football, try though they might. New Roof for Mullingar Dog Track in Jeopardy, Bishop May Intervene, Brother Kennedy read with interest.
Barry, the Chemistry teacher, picked up the lists and started dealing them round the staff room like a stacked tarot deck that contained nothing but death cards. In the monastery common room, Brother Kennedy pursed his thin cracked lips and ran his hand over his balding skull, smoothing the wisps of white hair over the bright red parchment of his scalp. He looked up briefly as the door creaked open and Brother Boland jittered his frail frame into the room. Boland’s watery blue eyes cowered in their sunken sockets and darted about the room as if expecting some sudden attack.