\\"Never Pass a Bar That Has Your Name On it, the eighth rule of travel, offers an interesting perspective. If your name is McCarthy and you're traversing the west of Ireland, it can be a particularly rewarding experience. As Pete meanders from Cork to Donegal, he stumbles upon numerous McCarthy's bars. In these establishments, he engages with colorful, friendly, and funny people, delving into his complex Irish-Anglo identity. However, by four o'clock in the morning, he's pleading to be let out.
Written by someone who straddles the line between insider and outsider, McCarthy's Bar presents a vivid and affectionate portrayal of a country in rapid transformation. At the start, it's humorous, with its exploration of the Irish character and landscape. But after 250 pages, it begins to feel repetitive, with only the location changing. I found myself not enjoying it as much. I was reading more out of a sense of obligation, following the rule that you must always finish a book. Eventually, I decided to break that rule and cut my losses.
The appearance of this book brought it to us, and I have been browsing it ever since. At that time, we wanted to travel to Ireland, but it didn't happen, and the book also took a backseat.
That it will be funny and entertaining, that was already indicated by the drinking nun on the cover for me. Sometimes it was really like a cabaret, and there were moments when I laughed out loud easily. But in the end, when I think back, most of the jokes are related to 1. atrocities committed during drunkenness and carousing, 2. people's external appearance, 3. people's religion, 4. people's national affiliation - and this makes one feel a bit tense afterwards...
It either makes one want to visit Ireland or not. It goes to a lot of places and tells about things that I would most like to teleport myself to for a while, but many details rather repel than attract. Moreover, all kinds of carousing programs leave one absolutely cold. Well, I would drink a few beers during a one-day trip, but not every day! The amount of beer (and other liquid "food") that flows down Pete's and his friends', acquaintances', and relatives' throats here could fill a small swimming pool. The book also mentions the debate about whether the English or the Irish drink more, and I think they can't throw anything at each other.
Many years ago, my husband had a check-up. The doctor asked him about everything, including whether he consumed alcohol. He said, yes, from time to time. But how much?, the doctor insisted. Well, now that it's summer, I do drink a glass of beer. How often? Every day. Every day??!! Then you're an alcoholic! Whoever drinks every day is an alcoholic! But just one glass... Still! This is already alcoholism!
I'm curious what the doctor would say about this book, where they start the day with beer in the morning and also make sure during the day that the alcohol level meter doesn't go down... In the evening, they drink until they can no longer distinguish their front legs from their back legs. Although actually it doesn't matter if the person staggers home on all fours anyway.