I read Butcher Boy last century, and it’s still as grueling, perhaps more so in audio. Still it’s brilliantly written. Not for the faint-hearted ( )

Dang. That was a doozy of a book. So cheerful, so sad, so brutal in pretty much every sense of the word I'm aware of. ( )

Francie Brady is raised in 1950s and 60s Ireland by an angry alcoholic father and half-mad suicidal mother. His life is sad and disturbing. His behavior is troublesome and leading up to worse. Half the town is scared of him. After he loses his mother, then father, Francie clings to his relationship with his best friend Joe. The loss of that friendship is one blow too many and Francie eventually takes revenge on the person he holds responsible.

The entire story takes place in Francie’s unreliable stream of consciousness point of view. His observations are reliable. His interpretations are suspect. It keeps things interesting.

Patrick McCabe’s trademark horror-humor style is perfect for this story. (A musical based on the book is about to run in New York City. I plan on seeing it.) ( )

"All the beautiful things in this world are lies. They count for nothing in the end."

Set in a small town in the early 1960's Ireland 'The Butcher Boy' is a hybrid of first-person narrative and stream of consciousness told by Francis 'Francie' Brady, also known as the 'pig boy'.

We first meet Francie hiding out "in hole under a tangle of briars" whilst being hunted by the police "on account of what I done on Mrs Nugent." It is only much later that we learn what his actual crime was.

The only child of an alcoholic father and a mother driven mad by despair, as his troubled home life collapses Francie retreats into a fantasy world. Sexually abused whilst at a Catholic reform school, ridiculed by his neighbour Mrs. Nugent, when he is dropped by his best friend Joe Purcell who has outgrown their boyhood mischief in favour of Mrs. Nugent’s son, Philip, Francie finally finds a target for his twisted rage. This novel chronicles 'the pig boy’s' chilling loss of innocence and descent into tragedy and madness.

Written in the regional vernacular it initially takes a bit of getting used to but once I did I found its rhythm strangely compelling that seemed to match Francie's deteriorating mental state really well. My feelings towards Francie were constantly shifting; at times I pitied him, at times I despaired of him and would have liked to have got my own hands upon him. One New York Times critic described the book as “part Huck Finn, part Holden Caulfield, part Hannibal Lecter” and its hard to disagree with that assessment. This novel is certainly dark but there are also touches of humour. I cannot say in truth that I actually enjoyed it but that may have something to do with the subject matter, however I still found it a remarkable piece of writing that is likely to live in the memory. ( )

I will never read a book about a hitman again. Ever. Unless it has a legless hermaphrodite in it. Then maybe. ( )