Той випадок, коли придбала книжку через обкладинку. В українського видання вона дуже гарна.

50-ті роки в Ірландії, всі мокнуть під дощем у твідових кепках і гасають на велосипедах. Молодий Бредбері переживає токсичні стосунки із тираном-режисером екранізації "Мобі Діка", який намагається керувати не лише постановкою фільмів, але й життями всіх, хто його оточує. Письменник ділиться веселими небилицями від завсідників ірландських пабів, пригодами місцевої знаті, щемкими історіями вуличних жебраків. Гумор, мелодрама і трохи містики.

Читання утруднював переклад, який спонукав пригадати походження мему "непозбувна бентега". Я люблю знаходити рідковживані слова у текстах, але тут цього було забагато. Складалося враження, ніби перекладач намагався вставити усі непопулярні синоніми до звичних слів, які тільки знає )))

The fictionalized telling of Bradbury's stay in Ireland with director John Huston while writing the screenplay for the 1956 movie version of "Moby Dick". He has written several stories before based on his stay there (such as "Banshee") and these stories are incorporated into this novel. If you read many of Ray Bradbury's stories, you will recognize several of them in the book. There are not all that many parts of the novel with John Huston in them, but I think those are the most interesting parts. According to Bradbury, Huston could be quite the devil at times (not too surprising). Most of the book involves his friendships and adventures with Irish folk he met at a nearby pub. Not Bradbury's best, but certainly well worth picking up and reading.

I studied "Moby Dick" too close for comfort in college. I also love Ireland. So my sister gave me this book that combines both topics, weirdly enough. There are like two chapters that talk about "Moby Dick", five chapters on John Huston and the crazy weirdness of Hollywood in the '50s, and all the rest of the chapters are stories from the Irish experience. I loved it! Each little story just left me with an indescribable feeling of "yes, that is SO Irish!". I will definitely read this again. I also should read more Bradbury.

Ray Bradbury was one of the darlings of my undergrad's Fiction department. In fact his biographer was a professor of mine. I came away from college with a favorable view of him, even if I feel I've only skimmed the surface of his output. He never stuck me as one of those artists deeply touched by "Greatness" (with all its blessings and curses), but one who worked hard and faithfully at his craft and cares about Truth and Beauty. His omnivorous taste and willingness to try any technique are on display here in this pretty odd novel. There are obvious tributes and loving parodies of some of Ireland's biggest names: Samuel Beckett, James Joyce, Bernard Shaw, and Flann O'Brien. Surprising diversion on my pre-Ireland-visit Irish literature spree.

Loved this novel. I came for the Moby-Dick content but loved the sweet stories of the pub and locals encountered during Bradbury’s time in Ireland. Reminded me of Roddy Doyle’s Two Pints stories.

Life and love

Rated thusly, the opportunity to feel or fall either way is available to all the people who flow through these emotions or pages.
I feel this book was written about two persons who were both involved in the living and writing of life as each saw it, lived it.

О, зелени сенки, а на мен как ще ми липсвате! Има невероятно очарование и обаяние този ирландски народ! Невероятен Бредбъри - все така романтичен, леко шеговит, спокоен и отнасящ на вълните на думите...Определено попада в категорията 'вечно любими', но с лек страх и тъга, че може би никога няма да препрочета, за да не се разсее леко приповдигнатото настроение от срещата със стари приятели в уютен бар, докато навън е вечна есен...или зима...

the colorful cover of my copy and the summary on the back had me expecting a comic fantasy written by Ray Bradbury about Moby Dick and "congenial IRA terrorists" (I was thinking Christopher Moore but BETTER). it was supposed to be "more priceless than a pot of gold... No mere leprechaun could conjure up such irresistible situations..." (actual quotes. and wouldn't a pot of gold have a very specific price?)

instead, I got a half-baked collection of stories about getting drunk with John Huston in Ireland and 'trying to decipher' the quirky natives. interestingly enough, the prose was still masterful, even full of nuggets of wisdom and beautiful descriptions of Irish hills/mist... but none of that was enough to save this meandering slog through a bog of unfunny stories about pubs. this does have me thinking about how back cover summaries and covers shape our expectations of book, but mostly I'm thinking about how someone who has spent most of his life writing can create such a self-absorbed traipse of a book that still contains insightful prose... I'm not conflicted enough to give it a second star, though!

Ray Bradbury hilariously captures the Irish mind while giving regular doses of Melvillia. For what more could one ask? I laughed out loud multiple times.

A little slow to start, and that might be too kind, but I was pleasantly surprised at how invested I felt as I was finishing this glimpse of his life. Even more surprising is the fact that I considered reading it again in the future to maybe find other unexpected things

so now i have to watch Huston's Moby Dick. a fascinating mix of reality and Irish folklore, Bradbury spins a very entertaining tale.
might rank as four stars on re-reading.

6/10

“I have hit forty, and forty has hit me.”

“If there’s to be a plague of truth here, we’d best not be sober for it.”

Bradbury has incredible energy in all his writing, and you get the sense that impressions and zest are more important than facts or concrete. Honestly, this reminded me forcibly of his Martian chronicles, but in Ireland. It’s clear he had a love for Ireland, and wrote a book more about how it felt to be there, than about what actually happened. What results is a string of loosely connected stories about his time there, the meaning of which is often not incredibly clear, though the meaning might be the passion its written with more than anything else.

“Tread lightly to the music,
Nor bruise the tender grass,
Life passes in the weather
As the sand storms down the glass.
Drift easy in the shadows,
Bask lazy in the sun,
Give thanks for thirsts and quenches,
For dines and wines and wenches.
Give thought to life soon over,
Tread softly on the clover,
So bruise not any lover.
So exit from the living,
Salute and make thanksgiving,
Then sleep when all is done,
That sleep so dearly won.”