Doyle has made his own the gritty world of modern Dublin, violent and generous-hearted, meanspirited and fed by dreams.
For teen-agers, Dublin is the city of his invention: home of the Commitments, singing their retro-rock as they panhandle on Grafton Street. Perhaps no one has done so much to create a new set of images for the Ireland of the late 20th century as Roddy Doyle.
O'Casey's working-class heroine was called Juno, and she had her paycock: myth, if of a different, Roman flavor, was invoked even as the stern strokes of realism were inexorably applied. Perhaps the country's most thriving industry is tourism: foreigners, mainly Americans, traveling to their fantasy of a country located somewhere outside of time, an Isle of Saints and Scholars, of leprechauns, of Yeats and Joyce and Synge. The Celtic twilight casts a long shadow, and it is longest outside the land of Ireland. THE WOMAN WHO WALKED INTO DOORS By Roddy Doyle.
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