The World in a Sandbag
Knowledge of the military history of the British army during the First World War and the part played in it by Irish battalions were not subjects in which I was more than marginally interested. Then along comes John Ware with his captivating A Green Bough and now its splendid sequel, The World in a Sandbag.
Many of the personalities to whom readers were introduced in A Green Bough shine brightly in its sequel and are headed, as we would expect, by Lieutenant-Colonel Hugh Fitzmullen-Brophy himself. Irish to his armpits, endearingly implacable and always benign, he is now wounded and ageing, as he wantonly ploughs his course through the idiocy of his superiors. Amongst his prodigies we soon re-encounter 2nd Lt. Daniel Wyndham, a young, wandering American, searching for himself in the mêlée of an Ireland already seething with complicated allegiances to its military history and its troubled relationship with the British establishment.
We also rediscover the unforgettable Moriarty, unutterably Irish, possessed of a foul mouth, a fouler breath, a huge appetite for whisky and an understandable capacity for self-preservation. We learn more about Miss Nora Maxfield, she of the VAD detachment of the Red Cross, and the quirkily enigmatic object of Daniel Wyndham’s passionate affections.
Surprisingly and despite its underlying themes, this novel is full of humour, real laugh-out-loud moments. Many are one-liners. Others develop into whole scenes.
The plot is lifelike in the sense that any expectation of standard resolutions will be disappointed. Fond as we have become of Daniel Wyndham, he will cope with what life deals him and we will follow his experiences with affectionate concern. So… more please, Mr Ware.
