Woman With Doll & Other Stories
Author
Joan Slowey
Author Bio
My name is Joan Slowey. I was born in Co Down in the north of Ireland and have lived in Dublin in the south of Ireland for over 40 years. Besides 5 sisters, I have 3 daughters, 2 sons, 1 grandson and 1 granddaughter. I discovered books when I was very young and when I was 11 I went to Boarding School where I had a really interested teacher who helped me find the best of books in the small library. I read all sorts of books, from the classics to detective stories. My favourite authors at present are, Annie Proulx, Joseph Heller, John Galsworthy and Joseph O’Connor.
I started writing when I was in my forties. My children always asked for stories and I made them up as I went along. Eventually I decided to write them down and many of them were published in the national press. I also broadcast a play for children and later, some short essays. I began then to write short stories for adults and most of them were published or broadcast. Earlier this year I published a collection of them on line – “Woman With Doll & Other Stories”. I have just finished another novel for children and am preparing it for publication. Currently I am working on a collection of poetry.
Description
These stories were written over a period of about 10 years. They are all set in a small, seaside town in the north of Ireland. The characters involved live on the edge of life, reaching for harmony, for stillness and for a sense of joy. It is difficult for them to find their place in the world. They feel aggrieved, neglected, unhappy and they have difficult situations to deal with. Some want to be left alone; some crave companionship. Their solutions are often unexpected or harsh or, sadly, just as you would expect. The sea is a constant in their lives; for some it is integral to their livelihoods and for others a source of peace and solace, a place to be alone to think. It is like a room in their houses, taken for granted, as familiar as tea and toast.
There’s Julia (No Way Out) who wants to change her life completely but lacks the courage. Middle-aged Brigit (Safe as Houses) longs for romance but is shocked by her parents’ reaction when she gets a date, and Andy (Andy) tries hard to find some joy in his bleak life, longing for America and motor bikes. Henry (The Collection) is angry with his wife, resenting her growing independence, while Jim and Connie (Waterbabies) have strange ideas about saving a young man from the cold. Francis, (First Kiss) 16 years old, plans to kiss his girlfriend, but he doesn’t really want the kiss itself – he wants to add to his experiences. And then there’s Rosemary, a strong, independent woman, who is really put out when her widowed sister comes to visit, and Albert, of the title story (Woman with Doll) is a recovering alcoholic who tries to help others – whether they want help or not. He cannot see that his view of the world, his perceptions, are particular to himself.
These are just a few of the characters readers will meet in this collection; Some of them are pure bad, some are naive; they are calculating, devious and just a bit odd, but funny sometimes too, and brave. All are memorable.
Book excerpt
I sat there thinking that if it was real, if it was true – the cabbage would be good for me, but the words didn’t make any sense in my head. I looked out the window at the bits of an old boat the men were working on and I looked at the cat sleeping on the window-sill, the sun shining in through the yellow curtains – everything so peaceful and normal, and all the time I was hot and sick and sweat-ing, and so scared!
And to think that Matty doesn’t know, has no idea even. I wonder if he ever, ever thinks about it . . . about me. Oh, Matty . . . There he sat across from me, eating quickly, not looking up. I stared at his hands as they moved, gripping the knife and fork, lifting bread, drinking tea. Brown, wide, rough hands, not too clean. And I looked at the hairs on his arms, all lying in different directions like he’d been scratching them.
“Susan! What’s wrong with you?” Paul was leaning across the table. “Susan!”
“What?” I said.
“You’re mooning there in the heat. We’re ready for the afters.”
He gestured at their plates and I got up and poured custard over the stewed apple. The floor was slippy by the cooker and I steadied myself. If I fell, I wondered, would I have a miscarriage? Paul said, ah, when I put the plate in front of him. That’s what he says in bed too, just before and after. Ah, he says. The thing is – it just could be his, couldn’t it? It happens to other couples after years of trying. Suddenly – bang! There you were, pregnant.
They were eating their desert when there was a noise outside and I knew Martina had arrived. You’d think she’d no house of her own. Matty’s as bad. Brother or no brother, it gets ridiculous sometimes. They just about sleep in their own house.
“It’s only me.”
She sang out the words as she pushed the door open. She always says that when she arrives and I always want to say back – oh, it’s only you. James toddled in and she fluttered in behind him carry-ing the baby. “Well,” she said, kicking the door shut. “I swear I lost half a stone on the way up. This fellow wouldn’t walk for me. I had to carry the two of – James – leave Auntie Susan alone. Matty, take him on your lap, will you?”