Book Review: "August is a Wicked Month" by Edna O'Brien

I haven't read a lot by Edna O'Brien but as I have said before, I went back to my hometown and rummaged through some really old orange Penguin Books. This is where I found the book August is a Wicked Month and so, with its strange cover and the book itself practically falling apart, I decided to give it a read. There was something compelling about this book that speaks to the old turning into the new, the mid-20th century generation of wanderlust and yet, crippling loneliness. There is something ironic but compassionate about this book that draws us into the main character's eccentric journey.

The story begins with Ellen living in London, where she is recently divorced and sharing custody of her young son. The novel opens with a devastating blow: Ellen’s ex-husband denies her planned time with their son, abruptly taking him away for an extended trip. Stricken with loss and frustration, Ellen decides to reclaim her independence and escape the monotony of her constrained existence by embarking on a solo holiday to the south of France. This was a great opening to the story. Why? It is something that connects the reader with the protagonist. It shows us that she is, in fact, a lonely woman who needs more from life.

As she journeys to France, Ellen reflects on her past, her upbringing in rural Ireland, and the societal and familial expectations that have shaped her. These memories are laced with guilt, longing, and regret, painting a portrait of a woman torn between her desires and the restrictive norms of her Catholic upbringing. Ellen’s yearning for sensual freedom is palpable, but so too is her lingering attachment to the idea of maternal and moral responsibility. I think everyone struggles with the idea that they should maintain a good and peaceful life, something of routine and standard whilst also wanting something more from life because routine and peace is boring as hell. Honestly, I cannot relate. I love peace - I want nothing else from this life. I do not want an adventure - which is why I enjoy reading about them so much.

Arriving in France, Ellen immerses herself in a landscape that seems to promise liberation. She finds herself drawn to the glamour and decadence of the coastal setting, mingling with holidaymakers and indulging in fleeting moments of freedom. Ellen seeks pleasure, entering into a series of flirtations and encounters with men, each one offering a temporary escape from her inner turmoil. However, these interactions often expose her vulnerability and deepen her feelings of isolation. I think this is where the reader tends to feel bad for the protagonist as she is trying to now fill a hole in her life with weird sexual encounters and escapism that can be considered harmful at best.

The holiday becomes increasingly fraught as Ellen confronts the limits of her own agency and the illusions she has harboured about freedom. A moment of crisis occurs when she becomes embroiled in a tragic accident, witnessing the drowning of a boy at the beach. This event serves as a harrowing reminder of her own role as a mother and her unresolved guilt about leaving her son. The image of the boy’s lifeless body haunts her, a stark symbol of the fragility of life and the inescapable weight of responsibility. This is yet another thing that makes us worried for the protagonist because what is starting to culminate is a novel about a woman who is deeply distressed and the more she tries to fill the holes in her life, the more holes begin to appear.

All in all, there are plenty more realisations that happen in this book - there is something uncomfortable about reading it as well. I love the way we see this character change into someone who's impulsivity is constantly grabbing hold of them every single time it catches up. The character-centric narrative is written in a style that is both descriptive and relfects the distress of the character each step of the way - it is not done by accident. Among these descriptions there are also quick-fire dialogue sections that reflect upon us the terse responses of real-world conversation. Again, it gives us perspective upon our own lives - are we really living right?