Marvelous read. Roddy Doyle takes us inside the mind of a ten year old Irish boy in the 1960s, and anyone who has raised or worked with boys will know how great his representation is. I laughed out loud, and felt a wide range of other emotions as the protagonist deals with the social rules of his peers, the problems at home, and how to feel about his brother. Wonderful read! ( )

The narrator and title character of this story, 10-year-old Patrick Clarke, is a fairly typical Irish boy. He runs with a pack of boys, playing football and finding ample opportunities for mischief. He tolerates his younger brother Francis (nicknamed Sinbad), and barely pays attention to his younger sisters. Adults -- teachers, friends' parents, and his own parents -- are mysterious creatures. He understands little about the adult world, and cares little about it as well. That is, until the small cracks in his family structure widen into fissures, and then chasms. As the oldest child, Patrick assumes responsibility for maintaining a cohesive family environment, and believes he can influence and redirect the growing emotional tension between his parents.

For the first two-thirds of this book, Roddy Doyle places the reader right in the middle of Patrick and his friends, experiencing their hijinks, and seeing the world through their eyes. I found myself reliving my own childhood, when my friends & I explored the woods behind my house, and speculated (quite erroneously) about the actions of our neighbors. And then, Patrick becomes aware that his mother and father are not getting along. He doesn't understand why, and tries desperately to correct the situation. Because the story is told entirely from Patrick's point of view, many questions go unanswered and the reader is left similarly powerless. Doyle's technique was quite effective; I desperately wanted to take Patrick aside, explain what was happening in his life, and give him a big hug. This was a touching, poignant story. ( )

Phenomenal: My second Roddy Doyle book and it was no less impressive than the first. Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha is the story of a 10-year-old boy growing up in Ireland. His experiences range from boyhood friendships to the classroom to his parent's increasing fights. Doyle is immensely talented and consistently manages to embrace his characters and represent them in a nearly too real fashion. Paddy Clarke not only feels like it's a story of a 10-year-old boy but is specifically narrated by a 10-year-old boy and by the end of the book one has to wonder "Doyle, who's he?" Doyle's narrative is addicting and moving and I had to have spent half the book asking people, "Do you remember when..." A definite must read for everyone.

Bought this in a charity shop in Overton, Hmapshire, in May 2009 for £1.

A delightful, moving story of childhood told in a narrative style that at times is almost stream of consciousness, and yet never bewildering; lyrical and lovely, not a bit sentimental; it touches the frightened child that still lurks in my subconsciousness somewhere engaged in the kind of magical thinking that promises "If I stay awake all night, it will keep this bad thing from happening". I thought the ending a bit weak, if inevitable. Highly recommended. ( )

Roddy Doyle won the Mann Booker Prize for Paddy in 1993, and this wonderful novel is my latest attempt to read all forty Booker Prize winners. I already have completed 15, so the list is down to 25 right now.

Paddy Clarke, at ten years of age, sees the world through innocent eyes. The summer of this novel involves sleeping late, playing a variety of games with his friends, including his best friend, Kevin and two brothers named Aidan and Liam, and interacting with his parents, a younger brother Sinbad, and his infant sister, Catherine.

The snatches of adult conversation Paddy picks up come across as funny bits of gossip the young boy does not understand. However, Doyle accurately captured the wonder and innocence of a ten year old along with the humor that comes from the mouths of children. Try this quote: “We didn’t need bikes then. We walked; we ran. We ran away. That was the best running away. We shouted at watchmen, we threw stones at windows, we played knick-knack and ran away. We owned Barrytown, the whole lot of it. It went on forever. It was a country. Bayside was for bikes” (150). What ten-year old hasn’t had these thoughts! I know I have, dim as those memories are now.

The only problem I had with the book involves some slang terms. I could deduce a few from the context, a few I knew from my reading of James Joyce, but many bewildered me. I wonder if there is a dictionary of Irish slang to go along with my Webster’s Dictionary of American Slang. My favorite mystery word, “pruned,” seems to resemble some sort of “wedgie.” Quite a few Gaelic words have footnotes for translation.

Also, a couple of jokes evaded me. For example,

“---Where was Moses when the lights went out?
I answered.
---Under the bed looking for matches.
---Good man, he said.
I didn’t understand it but it made me laugh” (145).

Doyle uses Joyce’s convention of dashes to indicate dialogue. Makes me want to go back for another reading of Portrait!

Nevertheless, a delightful, pleasant, thoroughly enjoyable way to while away some hours with a cup of tea, a lap full of cat, and a handful of doggie ear. 4-1/2 stars

-Jim, 2/20/09 ( )

What is the point of this book? A seemingly neverending narrative of what Paddy gets up to as a kid. Bit of discord between the parents, bullying/teasing, initiation ceremonies, getting up to mischief - all the stuff that little boys get up to...ah, the reminiscing...and the background setting of the Ireland in the 60s... woo. Bloody boring. Disappointed as I love Doyle's other books. ( )

Forget your cheesy childhood nostalgia and read this book about children who can be awfully cruel and devise their own kid logic. One of the best books by one of my favorite authors. ( )

A coming of age novel, but of a ten-year-old boy. Doyle captures the manic immaturity of a child very well. It brought back memories, even though this novel takes place in Ireland. The superstitions in particular struck a chord with me - I remember thinking those same things when I was a kid.

It’s a series of short scenes, all in first person in the voice of a boy. He’s not a very nice boy either - he terrorizes his younger brother and his friends, engaging in acts of cruelty and viciousness that only kids are capable of. So Paddy Clarke is not very likable.

The novel is essentially plotless. A novel without a plot has to have something else to give it forward motion and to keep the reader interested. Doyle uses the incomplete understanding of Paddy as he watches his parents argue and his father become violent with his mother. Perhaps Paddy will turn out like his father, since he also seems to hurt those that he loves.

I have to compare it to Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood. Atwood actually wraps the story of the young girl coming of age in a frame of the girl as an adult. In my opinion, a much better way to tell the story - it certainly kept my interest more than this novel, which tended to drag - I was tempted to skip ahead. If you have ever spent any time with a child of that age you will now what I mean - a little bit goes a long way. ( )

A really great novel on a number of levels. Very evocative of childhood and more specifically of Dublin in the 1960s. I could hear my cousin's voices speaking the dialogue and it all rang true, as did the strangely disjointed child's perspective on time and narrative. Initially a very funny book, the transition to a darker and more painful story is very gradual and imperceptible, echoing the tragedy of what it portrays - lost innocence in one sense, and lost love. ( )

Oh man, the Booker prize and I just do not get along. I can appreciate that this was well done, but I've come to accept that I loathe books written from the perspectives of children. It's a cheap method of making tragedy more tragic and it annoys me immensely. (To Kill a Mockingbird is the exception to this.)

Pathos aside, this book is pretty much Angela's Ashes as narrated by Benjy from The Sound and the Fury. Just so you know.

I was transported into the mind and heart of 10 year old Paddy as he relates his adventures in his village in 1960s Ireland. Doyle does a fantastic job of maintaining the voice of the pre-adolescent narrator. Paddy and his friends get into all sorts of mischief; one thinks the book will be all about that, but there is a serious undertone that asserts itself part way into the book and later becomes the focus. Well done. ( )

This one was hard for me to keep straight, only because I was reading "Angela's Ashes" at the same time. Keeping those Irish kids straight was hard. ( )

http://bookchronicle.wordpress.com/20... ( )

I didn't really like this book. I didn't hate it, but it didn't do anything for me.

I didn't really relate to the character as much as I tried. ( )

I blame Umberto Eco.

First person narrative by a primary school child growing up in the 1960s. The child lives in an environment that is changing from a semi-rural town on the coast, into an urbanised community. Farms run by the same family for generations are being replaced by new housing developments; corner shops are clinging on, but you can sense that the threat of the supermarket is just around the corner. Aspiration is growing, along with access to consumer goods.

Irrelevant. All this is irrelevant. The child's-eye view is self centered; the changes are recognised, but only measured by the impact on my world, my horizons. How can I manipulate this situation to my advantage? Why are they doing this to me? If I do this I get a thrill, and recognition from my peers. There are stirrings of compassion (and experimentation), and fads come and go, along with alliances. And yet, measurements of one's peers are made using a yardstick that is largely based on the family. My da's got a car; his big brother has got this amazing toy; their da let's them play in every room of the house, rather than just the hall and bedroom; those lads come from a council house estate. Of course, such self-centeredness doesn't recognise cruelty, but then memories are short at that time of life. Aren't they?

I recognise so much from this tale. I had allotments at the bottom of the garden which stretched for miles until they were eaten up by the by-pass, and the new primary school, and eventually the new houses. I was sent to bed for watching the workmen constructing the by-pass rather than going straight home from school; I can point to the exact spot where my father let go of the back of my bike; I saw alliances made and broken.

I'm convinced that some of those experiences changed my life for ever, as they did for Paddy Clarke. Ha ha ha.

Roddy Doyle could have been relating a version of my childhood. It's uncanny. Accurate and consistent and poignant. I can understand why it won the Booker Prize. God, I wish I'd started reading real literature like this ages ago, instead of the science fiction and thrillers and detective stories that made up the bulk of my literary exploration. Hold on, I have read a bunch of Graham Greene, and I do remember standing in W. H. Smiths in front of the novel section, and dithering over which of the latest literary masterpieces to buy to start expanding my cultural horizons. Didn't I pick up Foucault's Pendulum?

I blame Umberto Eco. ( )

Roddy Doyle does a tremendous job capturing the inner world of a ten-year-old. Though nothing particularly dramatic happens in this book -- no deaths, no world events, no grave illnesses -- the character's monologue completely enthralled me. The story jumped from anecdote to anecdote without following strict chronology or chapter breaks, but the character's voice was strong enough to carry the narrative forward. ( )

Tells the story of Paddy Clarke (Patrick) growing up in Ireland in the 1960s. Set in the fictional estate Barrytown when Paddy is 10, Doyle looks at childhood and the brutality of it. Paddy is pretty much second in bully Kevin's gang and they get into all kinds of trouble. Probably the worst is pouring lighter fluid down Paddy's younger brother Sinbad's (Francis) mouth and then lighting a match horribly burning his lips. Another time they post a dead guinea pig through the letterbox of a woman in their estate that they don't like.

About halfway through the book it turns from the misadventures of youth to a more serious tone as Paddy's parents marriage begins to reall break down. Paddy begins to take more responsibility in trying ti stop their fighting without their knowledge as well as looking out more for Sinbad who is starting to grow up. He starts to recognise Kevin for the true bully he is and hang out with loner and hard knock Charles Leavy.

The children are written very convincingly, both their language and their often bizarre logic. For instance in fights there are rules and if one hits another you get a free hit in return. It made me miss my childhood a little with all the random games with local kids. It also made me sad as this culture seems to be shrinking as kids these days seem more interested in indoor persuits like watching the television and playing computer games rather than running about and playing outdoors. ( )

This book is like a peek inside a 10-year-old boy’s head. It’s cute, but this is actually the second time I’ve read it (the first time was for a different book club). Twice was enough for me. I preferred Doyle’s The Commitments. Full review at: http://passionforthepage.blogspot.com... ( )

http://valentinasroom.blogspot.com/20... ( )

I had a rought time getting through this book. I appreciate the talent it took for the writing and the scope of what was attempted, but for me it was a choppy and often seemingly repetitive novel. In the end, even after much thought, I still felt as if it had been something of a pointless read. I enjoy reading purely for entertainment, don't get me wrong, but I got very little enjoyment/entertainment out of this book, and finished as more of a chore than anything else. Adding to the disappointment was the fact that it didn't particularly leave me with much to think about. All in all, I felt it could have been about half its length and had more of an impact. The author also needed to be a bit clearer if we wanted fuller messages and implications to reach the reader. In the end, I'm just not a fan of the book. The writing and story were both stilted, and longer than remotely necessary or desirable in this case. ( )

3151. Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, by Roddy Doyle. (read 21 Jan, 1999) This won the Booker Prize in 1993. What a reading experience!! At first I thought it unplotted, but that is wrong--its finish is stupendous. I have to say this is a powerful and extremely poignant book, which moved me deeply, especially its ending. ( )

Wonderful. Ten year old Irish boy in the 60's. I've never read a book about childhood like it. "never lets the reader glimpse the adult lens filtering his hero's thoughts." Sad. Funny. Absolutely not sentimental. ( )

Very Irish and very good. ( )

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roddy_Do... ( )