Poor pitiable phallus-burdened Patrick Pussy Braden. Abandoned bastard son of an altar girl and the town priest. Left at the doorstep of another (though lovely) woman. Pussy Braden grew up different. Pussy Braden did not want to participate in football. Pussy Braden wanted to put on lipstick and dresses. But she looked quite good, I must say!I have never been an Irishman. Nor an Irishwoman. And I have never joined London's Picadilly Circus as a prostitute in search of my true Mammy. So I don't know firsthand what any of that is like. But McCabe, through Braden, makes me feel as though I do. Pussy Braden is a very tragic figure. Yet she is filled with so much hope. Her story is uncomfortably heartwarming that way.
This is a book I should probably read again. The lyrical quality to it makes some of the passages tough to digest on the first go-round. But now that I know what to expect I would expect a second reading to be even more enjoyable.
1 comment:
Your aunties Peggy and Carrie started a saying back when the movie, Breakfast on Pluto, came out...taken from a particular expression used by the main character. It was "FMP", an acronym for.......... I'll make your favorite dinner if you can guess what it stands for. Ready, get set, go!
Post a Comment