This is the eighth Matt Minogue novel by John Brady. Minogue is a police detective, whose quizzical self-reflection and adopted Dublin sit at the center of these novels. Adopted, because Minogue is originally from County Clare. The exaggerated county identities, and staged interchange between them, and between Dublin and the rest of the country, have been a recurrent feature of the series, although this is not so strongly featured here.
The novels remind me of the Kurt Wallander series by Henning Mankell. Although the mood and the landscapes are quite different, each series revolves around an absorbing character who grows through successive novels, is based in a very specific geographic locale which enters the fabric of the novels in significant ways, and interprets the changing social climate of a country, Ireland in one case, Sweden in the other. They each also seem to have filmic potential, and I read with interest on the cover blurb of Islandbridge that the novels have been optioned for TV. Perhaps if these novels do reach the screen they will help fix Dublin in the visual imagination in the way in which it has already been fixed in the literary imagination. The shape of the city lends itself to the camera, but it has not yet found a definitive visual interpreter. What would Neil Jordan, say, make of a Minogue book on the screen? Throughout the novels, Brady uses the shape of the city - the hills and the distinctive bay, and the river dividing it - and one has a clear sense of the particularity of Dublin places in the narrative. Maybe this feature has been heightened by distance, as Brady, though born in Dublin, lives in Canada.
The main action of the novel is set in the present, but it opens with a long flashback to the 1980s in which a uniformed police officer (a 'guard' in Irish terms) involved in off-duty security work is compromised by witnessing the actions of a notorious Dublin criminal family, the Rynns. After some back and forth, in which he refuses to work for the family, the guard is killed. The consequences ramify through subsequent events, in ways that do not become entirely clear until the strong and shocking conclusion. Shocking in part because of the devastating impact unfolding events have on Minogue's intimate professional and personal circle. The action is punctuated by several further flashbacks, describing how the guard's wife rebuilds her life and career. In addition to their narrative role, these underline the social and economic upheaval that Ireland, and Dublin, has experienced in recent decades. In fact, this is a major focus of the novel as it exposes a dark side of the Celtic Tiger.
At the core of the plot is the evolution during these years of organized crime, as the Rynns, a shadowy presence throughout, become involved with the international trafficking of prostitutes and illegal labor. At times this social interpretation has a slight documentary feel. The Temple Bar, Dublin's renewed cultural quarter (we hear that Minogue's artist daughter is assembling a metal sculpture in the area) features as a location, and as the scene of excess consumption in the shape of drunken English tourists. Rapidly climbing house prices are a small plot feature, and there is mention of the Range Rovers, Audis and 'mid-sized beamers' favored in a particular part of the city. Minogue is now learning French and there is some early discussion of the European dimension of police work. We see him in a presentation on emerging methods from an Austrian colleague, and much is made of the PowerPoint presentation.
The ability of Brady's novels to describe the changing social climate of Dublin has been admired. However, an important aspect of this has been the ruminant personality of Minogue as he looks at change in the context of work, family and his own experience. This refraction through Minogue's emotional and intellectual response has been a central part of the novelistic and imagined treatment of social life and change. In Islandbridge, though, Minogue is less central than in other novels: a reader coming to this novel from earlier ones might miss this presence. And this is why 'documentary' seemed the right word above; it is as if the calling to social interpretation has occasionally overwhelmed the novelistic imagination. And, maybe, looking another way, there is a little too much self-conscious Irishness. There is a preface which recounts a legendary tale about Islandbridge (an area in Dublin). There are also some small pieces in the Irish language with inserted translations. Each of these had a perfunctory feel.
That said, this is another strong Minogue novel, not for me the best, but certainly one that is absorbing and interesting. Perhaps some of my qualification reflects an unresolved negotiation between the author's developing interests and the constraints of the crime genre. This makes me very interested to see where John Brady goes next ...
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