Days Without End by Sebastian Barry
Thomas McNulty, a refugee of the Irish famine in mid-19th century America, chances upon fellow orphan John Cole, and they stumble into a life together. They become the unlikely entertainment for miners in a Daggsville saloon. But once their boyish looks begin to fade, they’re soldiers, swept up in an atrocious campaign against America’s native tribes. One thing leads another, not least the American Civil War.
But the bitter struggle against ‘Johnny Reb’ is mostly background to the human story that propels everything. A surprising development from the early chapters is that McNulty and Cole adopt an orphaned Sioux girl, whom they name Winona because her real name is too tricky to pronounce. The soul of the novel lies with this tentative family of orphans, trying to survive in a shattered, confused America that must nonetheless be their home, their land.
McNulty’s rambling narration, looking back on these heady days, pulls you right in. He omits, forgets, leaps back and forth within his own history, but he tells a cracking good tale – a grand, gruelling adventure threaded finely through the chaos of war. He pauses to offer folksy but powerful philosophies. He lingers on fantastic descriptions of the natural world he has encountered, from the thick, ancient redwoods of California, to the fractured creeks of Tennessee. In between there’s a damp spring in Massachusetts and a brutal winter stuck inside an infamous Georgia POW camp. All of this travel and trouble comes wrapped in a breezy Irish-American-Yankee vernacular. McNulty’s facility for capturing all kinds of beauty, violence, tenderness and terror within that idiom never seems a stretch.
It’s as if we have pulled up a bar stool next to one of the great storytellers. The night is drawing on, but we hardly notice, as the unlikely, thrilling tales keep on coming, as well as the darker moments, wracked by trauma, as this man comes to terms with the things he has seen and done.
“There didn’t seem to be anything alive, including ourselves. We were dislocated, we were not there, now we were ghosts.”