This year i have had the privalege of not only reading Molly Sweeney, by Brian Friel, But also playing the part of Molly. Never have i read such a brillant work of literature. The heroine,strong willed and enchanting goes through a series of operations to try and restore her vision. Through the sucesses and pitfalls of this procedure Molly shows us what true vulnerability and dreams are made of. She posesses an inner strength that can be understood only by those who have been caught between two worlds, never to re-enter either of them. She has taught me to appreciate everything I see. For she relished the world and all the beauty in it.. while those of us with vision are blind to its miracles. indeed, We are the ones with blindsight. I have never played a character I have loved as much as Molly. She took over my body and soul on stage until i existed only as her vessel.... her unique personality shining through teaching us all to value what we have, to love what we are given, and to venture into the unknown.. even if it means loosing everything we've ever understood. Brian Friel is a modern day shakespeare. Truly my favorite playwright of the 20th century, he is also my mentor, and my inspiration. Molly Sweeney is truly a miracle in print.It will change your life.

I Just finished this play and loved it. In fact, I found it so moving and powerfull that I was anable to close my eyes because of the haunting ramifications described in this play. I had no choice but to write this review at 2:30 AM. This play tells the story of a women who undergoes a surgery in order to regain her sight, and the aftermath of that surgery. It is told in a seris of monologues by the three central characters in the show to brilliant perfection. Read this play, it will change the way you look at the world forever

Anyone interested in the neuropsychology of vision must see or read this play! *Molly Sweeney* is great drama by an award winning playwright. It tells more of the truth about failed attempts to restore vision in those blinded by cataracts in early childhood than "To See and Not See" in *An Anthropologist on Mars*. "Molly Sweeney" should be required reading for anyone interested in "Discourse between Anthropology and Medicine."

I just came from seeing this adaptation performed in a spectacular production at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival in Montgomery. The great Irish playwright Brian Friel has infused the text with wonderful, ironic humor. The language plays elegantly, but with a nice contemporary bite. If you love Chekhov, you'll love this version.

During 1 month in 1840s Russia, Natalya, a well-to-do 29-year-old married woman, has an infatuation for Belyayev, her son's tutor. However, he only sees Natalya as an "older woman" and his employer. Vera, Natalya's 17-year-old ward, also is interested in Belyayev, but he doesn't want to get involved with her either. Rakitin, Natalya's male friend and confidante, wants more than just friendship from her and is jealous of Belyayev. Bolshintov, a 40-year-old neighbor, makes an offer of marriage to Vera, an idea that she finds ridiculous. Obviously, with this set-up, many needs and desires are unmet and frustrations abound. This is a great play about human relationships, with the action being more psychological than physical. As a masterpiece with a timeless theme, I highly recommend it.

F.C. McGrath's perceptions of Friel's work gave me deep respect for Brian Friel's place in history as a playwright and a renewed intrest in his message. If you have ever been colonized, this book will give you detailed insight into that wretched condition, what it means and how it feels. Friel presents you with his views on how his country's colonization by the British left lasting impact on Ireland and her people. This work is a valuable resource for understanding Ireland's best living playwright.

Really, to call Friel an Irish playwright is to pigeon hole him unfairly. This group of plays by Brian Friel attests to his extraordinary talent as a modern playwright, period. He dramatizes the human journey using equal doses of humor, pathos and tragedy. These remarkable, fully-dimensional characters leap of the page, or, if you're very lucky, the stage. No avid theater fan should be without these works of art. Order this collection immediately.

If, like me, you had Brian Friel down as some sort of bog-trotting hickster, an intellectually acceptable John B. Keane if you like, prepare to be astonished. 4 monologues, 3 characters, 2 ghosts, 2 crucial incidents. Faith healer, wife/mistress, Cockney manager. Visit minor villages of Celtic Britain doing their act - miscarriage; fatal confrontation with Donegal yokels. Crosscurrents of memory, self-interest, self-mythologising, and evasion litter witness-accounts, contradicting, negating, enriching.

You can read this remarkable text in a number of ways (it helps to remember the lovely James Mason played Frank in the first performance): as a Nabokov/Banville-like narrative of an amoral, charismatic monster with a beguiling way with words, whose very artistry facilitates some kind of transcendence; as an analysis of the artist, the necessary mixture of fraudulence and healing power; as a story of brutal men and the pain they wreak on their women. So much more. The play is full of words, rich, incantatory words that seem to spin a fragrant web of matchless b.s., and yet, at the end, dissolve phantasmogorically, transforming provincial crime into an enchanted, disembodied, visionary realm.

This book was very interesting. It is a closely edited description of an old man's life in a remote rural area of Ireland in the first half of the century. He tells a few stories from his father's and grandfather's days but mostly describes what life was like during his life. The book was first published in the 50's, I think. Without referring directly at all to the major events of the day, we get a look at the changes that were underlying society in his time. From the story about his grandfather being "pressed" to serve in the British Navy during the Napoleonic wars on, I was hooked. The Kirkus reviews are misleading, though. They make it sound like the man was telling fairy tales instead of fairly straightforwardly recounting his life, which involved a fair amount of superstition.

I am in the early stages of writing a book about life in County Donegal during the 19th century. This book is one of a few primary sources that describe what life was like for the people in this county.

The book is superbly produced-- from the book design to its typefaces, it's beautifully executed. Considering how this material was obtained, the book is well edited. To me reading the book is like sitting around a turf fire in Ireland, listening to a very old man lovingly describe a time that was long since past. He mentions many people and places, mostly within the parish of Inishowen. One thing I would have liked to see is an index. Without an index it's difficult to determine if an ancestor is mentioned in the book.

The book contains many Irish words and common phrases that were in use at the time. The book also contains songs and poems in Irish (with English translations) that perhaps are not recorded anywhere else. Much of what he recounts was part of the Oral Tradition of the countryside.

In some ways reading this book brought sadness to my heart. My great-grandparents were born in Donegal around 1820. This book describes some of the hardships that they had to endure. It chronicles a way of life, and a people that are no more. McGlinchey speaks to this regarding the Irish language, "Down to my young days there was nothing spoken in this parish at fair or chapel or gathering of any kind but Irish.... The English language came in greatly in my own time and in the one generation Irish went away like the snow off the ditches."

This little book is a fascinating read and a must have for anyone with Irish ancestry. It was narrated by Charles MacGlinchey, whose family moved from the Finn Valley in Donegal to the Inishowen Peninsula and settled in Clonmany parish, where Charles McGlinchey was the last of his family, hence the title of the book. It's chock full of Donegal folklore, including tales of poteen stills, revenue men, men on their banishment, the famine, immigrants to America, landlords and tenants, kidnapped women, hedge schools and fighting sticks. Charles McGlinchey was born in 1861 and died in 1954. His life covered the period when most of our Irish ancestors were crossing the Atlantic in small ships with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a small cask of oaten bread for nourishment.
Don't look for a lot of genealogical information in the book. There is a mention here and there of a handful of families a fortunate few may be able to connect with; but on the whole this book is a living, breathing picture of life in Donegal when almost every Donegal man still spoke and read Irish as his native tongue and the Irish language had yet to melt away under the onslaught of English like the snow on a river bank, to use McGlinchey's phrase.
There are tales in the book of Donegal farmwives walking the thirty miles from Clonmany parish to the market in Derry and back again in time to do more chores before nightfall; of the oldtimers sitting with their backs to the fire at night sharing the ancient exploits of Finn and Cuchulain; of a rapacious Scottish landlord named McNeill from whom no comely lass in the parish was safe; of an Irish schoolmaster overly fond of the drink and of his eager young Latin hedgerow scholars; of a sodden Irish landowner who drank away his inheritance at the local pub; and of the great yearly fair at Pollan, a festive event attended by the entire community with occasional tragic consequences for the unlucky.
Books were almost unknown to the common man in Donegal. The few books McGlinchey mentions were mainly religious tracts, in Irish and Latin. He mentions offhandedly that a man of his acquaintance owned a book by someone named Aristotle. Tragicallly he also relates that many of the old Irish manuscripts were burned to prevent the spreading of disease in the community. Even if they had had books its doubtful anyone could have spent much time reading them. The cabins were dark at night and if anyone entered the cabin after dark the fire had to be stirred to raise enough light to see who it was. Homemade candles flickered in the windows on religious holidays.
Contrary to common misconception, the Irish did not just subsist on potatoes. The farmers made their own oaten and flour bread, which they ate with butter and washed down with fresh milk. They supplemented their diets with what they called "kitchen", which included everything from fresh fish to watercress from the ocean strands. Each family had a measure of corn for the winter, and most had at least a cow, perhaps a pig and a few chickens, although eggs were a cash crop reserved for the market at Derry. Red meat, as we know it today, was a rarity in their diet. Every farm had its rack of potatoes in the fields. The plows were wooden and drawn by horses. McGlinchey mentions a local farmer, one of whose horses took sick one day, and he took its place in the harness pulling the plow alongside the remaining horse for the rest of the day.
The famine did not seem to affect Donegal nearly as badly as it did much of the rest of Ireland. According to McGlinchey, an earlier famine in 1817 was much more devastating. It's not clear whether this condition pertained to Clonmay parish alone, or whether most of Donegal escaped relatively unscathed. But fly off to America nonetheless did the sons and daughters of Donegal and Inishowen, leaving behind forever the two-roomed thatched roofed cabins and the village fairs of their youth. Some of the more primitive living conditions common elsewhere in Ireland did not seem to prevail in Donegal. Sod cabins were almost unknown, except for temporary accommodations in the summer mountain pastures. Nearly every family had a cabin of stone, McGlinchey says, with lime covered walls, although rarely whitewashed, and hard clay or stone flagged floors. Some cabins even had windows. The fireplaces in early years lacked flues and the pall of smoke was ever present.
McGlinchey didn't write this book - he narrated it to a local schoolmaster when over ninety year's old. His often rambling text was edited by Brian Friel, and first published in manuscript form in 1986 in Belfast. The current edition is published by J.S. Sanders and Company, of Nashville, Tennessee.
I was especially struck by the fact that McGlinchey mentioned that the Donegal folk gave their farm animals, mainly cattle, pet names such as Starry and Missy. In our family we have a copy of the will for our immigrant Donegal ancestor, in which all of the family's cattle were so named. The twig, they say, does not fall far from the tree, and if you'd like to really get a feel for the world in which your Irish ancestors lived, then buy a copy of this book.
You won't regret it.

I had to read this for a theatre class, and it turns out that I loved it. It's a glimpse into a life we wouldn't normally know, and Brian Freil gives us the opportunity to embrace these characters. If you're looking to deepen the meaning of your life, start with learning and experience something new. Try this.

This play is based in the small town of Ballybeg. A small town where the people have small, closed off minds. Life is hard back then, as the adult Michael comments the industrial revolution only comes to Ballybeg at the end of the play, and this is te 30's and Ireland is going through an economic depression.. This is the story of the 5 Mundy sisters, Kate, Agnes, Maggie, Christina and Rose. All with different, totally unique personalities. Also in the family are Father Jack, who has returned from African missionaries who has become "sick" and nativeised and the illegitimate son os Christina. The father is Gerry, an irresponsible, charming man from Wales. The play follows their lives through the month of August (Lughnasa = the irish word for August, coming from "Lugh" the pagan god of the old irish). I thought this was a very good book, nothing seems to happen, yet everything changes irrevocably. It is a page turner, I was warped into the world of the Mundys, so different to my own. Emotions, feelings and fears are woven into this masterpiece of Irish literature.The best part of the play for me, was the ending. Absolutely brilliant.

What follows is an adapted version of the liner notes I wrote in the production program of Dancing At Lughnasa which I recently directed. The production closed on May 18 2002.

"Careful, if you breathe, it breaks." Laura

"The play is memory, and being a memory play, it is sentimental, it is dimly lit, it is not realistic."

both quotes from The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams

"I'd always heard that your entire life flashes in front of you the second before you die. First off, that second isn't a second at all. It stretches on forever like an ocean of time . . . you have no idea what I"m talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry .. . you will."

Lester from American Beauty written by Alan Ball

Brian Friel's gentle and poetic narrative seeks to capture the fragile and imperceptible line standing between nostalgia and history. "Dancing At Lughnasa" does not seek to be a documentary. It is not based so much on harsh reality as say McCourt's "Angela's Ashes".

The six adult siblings as viewed through the retrospective eyes of the adult narrator Micheal all share the common bond of blood, time and space. Their collective sense of love, compassion and interdependence makes them, I believe true heroes. In every family, there comes a time when the unit must break apart and each member must find their own independent way. the struggle against inevitable change, while it may appear foolish to some, I find admirable in the poetic sense. This struggle appears to provide the family with a history, a sense of place and purpose. Ultimately they find thier identity within the bird's nest ( in Friel's play, the hen house). The family also serves as the proving found. It defines, strengthens and completes its members. Perhaps in history before the radio of Marconi, the family found itself able to sustain and even thrive in one place.

Friel appears to use Dancing At Lughnasa as a vehicle for freezing in memory the final time before a family splinters off.

Memory often proves a decietful beast. Frequently we all remember things as we wish them to exist. This almost always contrasts with the factual. Micheal (Friel's alter ego) desires to hold this specific moment in time the way he wants to remember it, as an idealized image forever frozen in glass. Who really can blame us (and Micheal) for favoring nostalgia over fact? For like some sort of cruel trick, we amost never realize our key life events until long after they have played out.

The play's earthy philosopher Maggie even states, "just one quick glimpse-that's all you ever get. And if you miss that . . ." Dancing At Lughnasa serves as Friel's quick glimpse at a moment long gone.

Lughnasa is not a play of simple entertaiment. It is a complex work of art, filled with personal revelations, symbols and ideas that work together to reveal universe. It is a great play because it holds up to close reading and scrutiny. Enjoy and savor.

I first read this play at the age of 16, as I played the part of SB in a production in secondary school. It's on the English syllabus in Ireland, attesting to its significance in modern Irish drama. I like the play but its one major failing is that Gar, especially through Gar Private, is very often reduced to a stereotypical, stage Irish man. While his constant jokes do serve to highlight his frustration at the monotony of his life, and especially the lack of communication between him and his father, his constant chatter, and unbridled spontaneity are too overpowering and detract from what is otherwise a beautiful play. My favourite scene, and the scene I loved playing most is when SB is alone on stage and goes over to Gar's room and looks at his son's suitcases. For the first time, the mask drops and we see that he is a man of feeling who can not voice his inner hurt and turmoil. The end is lovely, the theme of memory, deceptive and alusive.

This is set in play format with a strange inclusion of the antagonists alter ego the two characters are Public the man everyone sees and Private the man no one sees or hears only Public can hear him. Together they make up Gar. The play is set the night before Gar is set to leave Ireland and move to Philadelphia. The story focuses not on his leaving but more on his escape from his unexciting father. The inclusion of Private Gar added humour and explanation of events in the play. An enjoyable play with greats dialog and a good story.

In this play, Friel beautifully captures the loss felt that comes with leaving the green fields of Ireland to look for a better life. Friel step by step mirrors the way of life in Ireland perfectly, bring home to us all the reality of life in those days in rural Ireland. His father, unable to express his own emotions, can but make idle small talk to the son he my never see again......Gars friends, the "boys", though over 20 still boast of fictional conquests as if they were in the grip of adolesence....the sufficating sameness of day to day life in a rural village, aspects of Irish past, and sometimes present society which is often over looked by Irish writers are brillantly portrayed in this journey inside the mind of a boy about to leave all he knows, and hopefully become a man in the process. "Philadelphia, Here I come" is a story to be cherished by all that have made the journey themselves, those who still remember the Ireland of the past, and those seeking an insider view of a young mans mind. It is a must, something that you will read again and again, and something which everyone, both Irish and otherwise, will identify with forever.

What a wonderfully light read for such a potentially heavy topic.

As a native of Ireland that is constantly reminded of the legacy of the crass 'Anglosizing' of our country, I found this a very incisive read. It is a wonderful snapshot of a period in our history which has scarred our language and lanscape forever. An example would be a town built on the site of an old monastery 'Mainstir na Fir Maoi' or The Monastery of the Yellow Men was translated to Fermoy, a meaningless name with no relevance to the look or history of the area. Or even the fact that I am more comfortable writng this review in English than in Gaelic.

Yet this is not a bitter book but a clever 'fly on the wall' account of the subtle changes being stamped on Ireland. This book of the play has developed wonderful characters which give us a great insight to what it must have been like for all the people who lived through that time.

There is no agenda in this book. It is a nicely humorous account of the times from an accomplished playwright and author.

If ever you plan to visit Ireland or if you live here and have wondered where places like Donegal got their names then this is book will give you enlightenment woven subtly into a wonderful story.

Over the past few nights I have directed this play at my college. I am studying the book as part of my English 'A' Level course, and you'd think I'd get bored of it, but no, I love this book. Being Irish, I feel that it captures the very essence of Irish culture, and the hatred portrayed by Manus toward the English soldiers, is caught so well by Friel. Definitive and Encapsulating, I love this story. Tragedy or no, it's one of the best books I have read about the fall of one's culture through Language. It challenges the typical stereotype of the Irish, and shows how pompus the English could be! BUY IT!

This is without doubt my favourite play by Friel and one of my favourite plays of all time. However, what I find really frustrating about it is the fact that is nearly always interpreted as being simply about the death of the Irish language and the colonial relationship between the English and the Irish. In other words, it is constantly being interpreted as "uniquely Irish" and I feel this does the play a serious injustice by failing to underline its international appeal. I personally have always read the play as showing that the relationship between a word and what that word designates is not a purely arbitrary one, i.e. a rose by any other name would definitely not smell the same! For example, if someone suddenly started calling me John or Michael instead of Damian, I would feel that a vital part of my identity had been lost. The intricate link between language and identity is of universal significance - it is by no means restricted to Ireland! In fact, the play reminds me a lot of "Le premier jardin" by Anne Hebert and "Lost in translation" by Eva Hofmann.

I've just finished translating it in Italian for my thesis in English literature. I think Friel is a natural story writer,as the critic Walter Allen said once,even though he is known as a great dramatist. The book shows a deep capacity of entering the human soul, especially the Irish one, with all its contradictory emotions. A deep insight on the human need for illusion.

Reviewer: Cristiana Nania