In the digital dark, who will we turn to?

Read this thought-provoking novella a little while back and was blown away by its quiet authority and dazzling simplicity. Something compelled me to retrieve it from the shelf today and flick through the pages, scanning, recollecting.

Set in a near future Manhattan, it explores the unthinkable: What if the digital world we've all come to rely on should fail. Here follows a short transcript.

Something happened then. The images onscreen began to shake. It was not ordinary visual distortion, it had depth, it formed abstract patterns that dissolved into rhythmic pulse, a series of elementary units that seemed to thrust forward and then recede. Rectangles, triangles, squares.

They watched and listened. But there was nothing to listen to.

Spooky, huh? I recommend you seek out this dark little gem of a story, it won't disappoint.

Margin Scrawls

I like to annotate books as I read. Highlighting with underlines, asterisks, and margin notes.

The exquisite sentence.

The sparkling section of dialogue.

The repeated motif or developing theme.

The stunning twist of plot.

The use of an unexpected simile.

The early mention of a possible ‘Chekhov’s gun’ – though it may come in the form of a crossbow, knife, or paperweight.

It’s an interesting paradox that in the act of scribbling the reading experience is enhanced, perhaps through greater comprehension?

I get the sense of being more immersed in the writing. Attuned to its nuances.

The reward of making annotations, months or years later, is picking up a novel and re-discovering the moments that moved me.

Because of these invaluable hieroglyphic markings, I don’t lend out my books.

Borrowers might judge that I have defaced the books. Vandalised the sanctity of the page.

For me, though, I have left a bread-crumb trail of precious gems.

Lead us, willingly, into temptation.

It was only ever going to end in tears.

Belfast, 1975, a city torn apart by the turbulence of the ‘Troubles’. A young Catholic woman meets an older married man. A protestant. What could possibly go wrong?

Louise Kennedy’s 2022 novel, Trespasses, is a beautiful, moving, and compelling account of a love affair set in desperate times. The central character of the story is twenty-four-year-old school teacher, Cushla Lavery. Her name derived from the Irish phrase: A chuisle mo chroi, ‘the pulse of my heart’ – and the reader is held close to Cushla’s heart throughout the telling.

Cushla begins an affair with Michael Agnew, a roguishly charming barrister. He’s ‘fifty-odd’ and, despite being protestant, defends young Catholic men arrested on the wrong side of the judicial system. I sensed the constant claustrophobic atmosphere that prevailed around the two lovers; the sheer weight of the divisive religious environment making every encounter seem like an exercise in risk. Yet, the very idea of love existing in such a hostile world seemed worthy and converted me, as a reader, behind their cause. Dangerous, though the very idea of their liaison may have been, still its urgency compels the story. The reader is dragged willingly down the path to temptation as one might be walk headlong across a minefield.

Here follow some excerpts showing how Louise Kennedy reveals the unfolding love affair between Cushla and Michael. The first time they meet is when Cushla, working part time in the pub her family owns, serves Michael a drink.

She put the whiskey on the counter. Cushla, isn’t it. I’m Michael. Would you like one yourself? he said, closing his fingers around the tumbler. The room looked better with him in it.

*

In her room, Cushla laid out the clothes to wear to work in the morning. A-line plaid skirt, navy lambswool jumper, grey blouse. Like a school uniform. She had never given much thought to how she looked behind the bar, throwing on clothes she didn’t mind spattering with bleach, tying her hair up to keep it from her eyes. Not until now.

*

I’ll adjust it, he was saying. He reached down beside her and released a lever that made the seat roll back. The skin on her calf prickled at the nearness of his hand.

*

I won’t always be able to get away.

But sometimes you will.

Yes.

OK, she said, because it was all he was offering.

*

He pulled her inside and shut the door with his foot. His eyes were glassy. It’s yourself, he said, kissing her full on the mouth. You look good. It’s the dress you wore in the Lyric.

He was wearing a black polo neck under a houndstooth sports jacket. So do you, she said. Like a Malone Road James Bond. Or your man from the Milk Tray ad.

*

Her gut burned with want. That she might away from her family, her mother, and be with this man.

*

Michael finished his drink and looked hard at Cushla, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the door. She took a dustpan and brush from under the sink and went outside, him a step behind her.

*

I love you, he said.

She left a kiss on his neck. You’d better, Agnew.

*

I very much looked forward to coming back to this book, wanting to know how Cushla and Michael were faring. Wondering how they’d navigate the violence brimming around them. Worrying for them. Caring and hoping for them. For they were just two lovers, after all. And as Cole Porter sang, The world will always welcome lovers. The measure of a good read is the sadness you feel when it’s over – putting Trespasses down I was left quite devastated.

I look forward, now, to reading more of Louise Kennedy.