Not quite a joke -just a misunderstanding with myself.

A few days ago I wrote that I was re-reading “TransAtlantic” by Colum McCann.  I had read the book before my vacation in Ireland this summer.  We spent our first vacation night in Cobh.  I remembered a beautifully written line from TransAtlantic about Cobh.  I thought now that I had been to Cobh, I would enjoy re-reading the  book.  It seemed to me there were quite a few great descriptions in the book in addition to the one I remembered so well.

So here is the misunderstanding.  After reading “TransAtlantic” (and paying special attention to the parts in Cove) I believe that line is not in the book at all. Perhaps I read it somewhere else; perhaps I read parts of it in different places; perhaps it is there and I just missed it second time around; perhaps I just made it up.

Perhaps I discovered a new talent for the memorable phrase.  But one thing for sure, I re-read a really good book.

“TransAtlantic” starts with the story of the first nonstop air crossing of the Atlantic.  The name TransAtlantic makes sense.  Fliers cross the Atlantic from Newfoundland to Ireland.  Then I go on to the next chapter.  I expect this chapter would then go more into detail about their reception in Ireland or something related to that journey, maybe airmail.

But NO.  The next chapter abruptly shifts to Fredrick Douglass in Ireland.  Being unslaved.  Working  to emancipate slaves.  Learning about Catholic emancipation.  A witness to the famine.   Again a story based on an historical truth but retold in fiction.  As before the retelling is not at all like you would expect an historical retelling to be.

Then we move on to the American Civil War and the Irish peace process.  Of course, there is much more.  But we begin to see the threads that hold this series of stories together as a book.  We jump around in time (over 150 years) and in space (2 continents).  Expect the unexpected.

Rather the focus on the historical progression of events, McCann captures moments and use words to convey the events or the feelings in ways not usually done.  Painting with words, maybe.  Sometime I think it is perfectly done but I’m not sure why that series of words or of short sentences works so well.  Sometimes I miss it but understand partially; sometimes I am totally lost and just move-on.

But it is an enjoyable journey.

Perhaps if I think about it a bit more or re-read again in a year or so, I may see more of it.