‘The stories in White Spirits are typified by contemporary concerns but retain one eye on the past’—Rosemary Jenkinson reviews the new collection by David Butler
by Rosemary Jenkinson
The title, White Spirits, captures the essence of David Butler’s preoccupations by conjuring up ghosts of the past along with incendiary social problems. This collection, Butler’s third, consists of eighteen short stories set in both urban and rural locations, reflecting how he divides his own time between the environs of Dublin and the Co. Kerry wilds. One of the main themes, escape, is expressed through the desire ‘not to live in lament like a blinded goldfinch’. The characters universally feel trapped in their own cages whether it is through alcoholism, caring for relatives, inability to afford rent, recollections of being bullied or unhappy relationships, but that’s not to say White Spirits is overly dark. The stories focus on the characters’ positive agency even if the outcomes can be shocking.
One of the main themes, escape, is expressed through the desire ‘not to live in lament like a blinded goldfinch’
The collection kicks off with ‘The Witch’, a tale of a boy who becomes a horrified voyeur of his sister’s abortion. His father silences him, shining a light on how people suppress the truth as they can’t cope with its harshness. These stories are characterised by concealment; in ‘Rounds’ a woman tells her partner she is leaving him because of a round of drinks he bought, rather than broaching the real reason – his failure to provide her with children. Butler’s favoured literary device is to hint at dark future outcomes. A prime example is ‘#ForwardSlash’ which ends with ‘That was the real start of it’, a surprisingly subversive last line for a short story.
The style throughout is distinctive and rhythmic. The prose has a strong Hiberno-English flavour and, in the first-person narratives, the idiolects lure you in with their rough lyricism. The integrated dialogue in ‘Flight’ is reminiscent of Paul Lynch’s Prophet Song, andwhile the sense of it can be confusing, it cleverly conveys emotional distance. ‘Old Fool’ presents the stream of consciousness of a dementia-ridden man, paradoxically making it a highly memorable account of memory loss.
The prose has a strong Hiberno-English flavour and, in the first-person narratives, the idiolects lure you in with their rough lyricism
Revenge is a recurring act. In ‘#ForwardSlash’, the narrator charts his history of being bullied and rejected at school. Troublingly, he uses his victimhood to justify trolling his tormentors with threatening texts and the story culminates in a chilling last paragraph. ‘Hidden’ is another powerful enactment of vengeance. As with all great stories, it has a double strand, weaving a man’s response to his mother being burgled together with his failed relationship. In 2024, house burglaries in Ireland rose by ten percent and Butler shows the reality behind the headline. There is urgency in his work and it isn’t mere social box-ticking, but a complex examination of current issues. The titular story ‘White Spirits’ tells of a group of young friends who receive their comeuppance for trying to burn down an asylum-seeker hostel. It’s interesting that the catalyst for the arson attack, the half-Haitian Desirée Bolger, is New Irish herself.
‘Shoes’ lances the boil of the housing crisis in Ireland and I particularly loved this story for its loaded dialogue and frayed atmosphere. The down-on-his-luck bedsitter, Burke, is visited by an old friend, Fagan, who has decided he’d rather be homeless than live with his brother’s family a moment longer. The tension is palpable when Burke refuses to let Fagan stay ostensibly because of his landlord, whereas in fact it’s because of jealousy. After circuitous excuses, Burke’s resentment and guilt bubble to the fore.
Butler is brilliantly alert to the modern trend of political posturing
Incisive satire enlivens ‘Exquisite Corpse’, which hilariously lampoons middle-class hypocrisy when it comes to choosing its artistic heroes. Timothy Moran, a failed writer, is tired of being belittled. He observes his wife’s worship of a Ukrainian artist, Oleksandr, and, just like Burke in ‘Shoes’, cannot contain his fury. On the day of the exhibition, Timothy points out the truth to all and sundry: Oleksandr’s art may help crowdfund an ambulance to Odesa, but he is enhancing his career in the safety of Ireland and is a coward compared to the warriors back in Ukraine. Butler is brilliantly alert to the modern trend of political posturing.
The Catholic Church doesn’t fare too well in this collection. The traveller girl in the final story, ‘Mo Chéad Ghrá’, takes a delightful bite out of Brother Colman’s fleshy finger. In ‘The Encounter’, the narrator unleashes not so much a festering can of worms as a fire keg. On a visit to his mother’s care home, he believes he recognises a priest called Fr Sweeney who used to teach him at school. A violent confrontation ensues.
While violent endings always make an impact, a more muted resolution in some stories provides balance. ‘Me & Bobby McGee’ deals with a drifting relationship between a busker and a Dutch woman. There are moments of deep poignancy in the portrayal of an estranged father in ‘Flight’. The eponymous dog in ‘The Rescue Dog’ touchingly transforms the lonely life of an elderly man.
The stories in White Spirits are typified by contemporary concerns, but even so, they retain one eye on the past
I am a fan of the arresting simile and there are a multitude to choose from, whether it is an arthritic dog with a ‘tail revolving stiffly as a stick stirring paint’ or a waitress with ‘lashes like carnivorous plants’. One boy speculates that his bruise might be ‘like the bad of an apple underneath, crumbly and sickly sweet’. The Irish weather transcends the usual clichés. Burke’s face is ‘freckled by shadow raindrops’ and, later, ‘the spits of intermittent rain needling the bus window began to tadpole laterally’.
The stories in White Spirits are typified by contemporary concerns, but even so, they retain one eye on the past: ‘The body’s memory is outside time. You hear music you haven’t heard in thirty years…your body is back there, instantly.’ It is a testimony to the vibrancy of Butler’s writing that we are transported into the very memories and music of his characters. White spirits are often used in painting and Butler here is a true artist; his portraits are compellingly rich and their colour flares in the mind long after the book is closed.
Rosemary Jenkinson is an award-winning playwright and short story writer. Her first volume of poetry Sandy Row Riots was published in 2024 and her debut novel, The Memorisers (Arlen House) is out now.
