Women’s Prize book review #4 – “Trespasses” by Louise Kennedy

The smart money was on Barbara Kingsolver to win the 2023 Women’s Prize for Fiction, announced a fortnight ago, and the predictions were correct. Kingsolver is the first person to win the prize twice (she won previously with her highly acclaimed 2009 novel The Lacuna). I have not yet read Demon Copperhead – when I decided on the order I wanted to read the Women’s Prize shortlist I decided to leave it till last since it is by far the longest of the six books. So it is definitely on my TBR list and I am looking forward to it even more now.

I did manage to get through four out of the six shortlisted books, which I am happy with, given that it has been a very busy couple of months. The day job has been quite demanding, as has home and family life so I’m impressed with myself that I even managed to get through that many! Audio did the heavy lifting here, and the fourth book, which I am reviewing here, was another that I listened to on audio. 

I don’t know much about Louise Kennedy, other than that her Twitter feed is witty and self-deprecating! Trespasses is her debut novel which gives me some hope given that she is around the same age as me I think! It seems her writing career took off relatively late in life and she spent most of her working life as a chef. Kennedy grew up near Belfast and her intimate awareness of the impact of the troubles on ordinary people in Northern Ireland in the 1970s, ‘80s and ‘90s is a powerful theme in this book.

The main character is Cushla, a young woman who teaches in a Catholic primary school. She lives alone with her widowed alcoholic mother and helps out at the family pub, which is now run by her angry and domineering brother. The regulars in the pub make up a motley band of locals, some political some not, and include British soldiers from the local barracks who come across as insensitive, cruel and exploitative. 

There are two main strands to the novel, connected with Cushla’s two jobs. In school, Cushla’s pupils report their daily news and the vocabulary of military events, hardware and death, are shocking when they come out of the mouths of, literally, babes. One particular pupil that Cushla connects with is Davy McGeown, bullied (as is his entire family) because he is the product of a ‘mixed marriage’. Cushla takes Davy somewhat under her wing, giving him lifts to and from school for example and becomes closely involved with the family, particularly after Davy’s father suffers a brutal beating at the hands of paramilitaries. 

The second strand of the novel is the affair that Cushla begins with Michael Agnew, a prominent Belfast barrister, who although he is a protestant, manages to remain a powerful neutral force, drinking in Cushla’s family’s pub, for example, defending young Catholic men who become embroiled in paramilitary activity. Cushla and Michael are instantly attracted to one another but their affair is scandalous on many levels – he is married, he is older than her, socially they are from very different backgrounds and, of course, they have different religious affiliations, though neither of them is particularly attached to their religion. Their affair takes place in secret, mostly at Michael’s ‘town’ apartment. His wife remains mostly at their family home and there are hints that she is an alcoholic; certainly he tells Cushla that his marriage is “complicated” and he cannot offer her any commitment. To help provide cover for the affair, Cushla starts going out with another teacher at school, Gerry, who, it later transpires, has secrets of his own. 

Kennedy writes beautifully about the tender and passionate relationship that Cushla and Michael have. She also writes beautifully about the love and care Cushla has for Davy McGeown and his family, and the complex relationship she has with her difficult and mentally unstable mother. This is a novel about people, about love, and about family, and yet Kennedy weaves in some profound truths about life in Northern Ireland at that time – the messy politics, religious prejudice, the dominance of the church (and alludes to abuse in the Catholic church) living in constant fear, and yet, also, fear becoming normalised. It is an account of a kind of hell, but one in which love can still thrive, like weeds popping up through cracks in concrete. 

I loved this book and it is a brilliant debut. The audio version was also brilliantly read by Brid Brennan. Highly recommended.