FICTION: Heart and SoulBy Maeve Binchy Orion Books, 452pp, £18.99
IT IS ENTIRELY Maeve Binchy's fault that I still have no idea what Pythagoras' Theorem is, or what is it used for. You see, as a daydreaming teenager, when I should have been dutifully applying myself to the grindingly boring study of algebra, I was usually cuddled up with a Maeve novel, happily lost in her wonderful tales of love, loss and redemption.
Her stories gripped me with an absolute and fierce need to keep turning the pages, not only because they were utterly compelling and beautifully written, but because they confirmed what as an aspiring writer I had already suspected - it is the everyday that can be the most fascinating and dramatic, if only you dig a little deeper.
Maeve was the best sort of storyteller - she had no airs, graces, or illusions of grandeur - instead she always offered a warm invitation to settle back, kick off your shoes and relax. To me, that feeling of contented refuge was worth every second of my maths teacher's wrath.
As I got older, it was Maeve who came with me while I travelled the world. Other authors languished unloved on my bookshelves back home but I made sure to cram all her battered and dog-eared books into my suitcase. When I was far from family and friends, her unmistakeable lilting prose was like my own personal comfort blanket - I would tuck it gratefully round me when loneliness came to call and I longed for the familiarity of home.
Years later, I still get terrifically excited when a Maeve Binchy novel is published - I have been known to snatch one of her books from the shelf and start to read with unashamed eagerness before I even leave the shop.
Her new story, Heart and Soul, is another instant classic, infused with Maeve's trademark warmth, charm and compassion. Set against the contemporary backdrop of a Dublin heart clinic, it features a multicultural cast and a whole host of new and riveting dilemmas. Religion, social class, immigration - these are among the topics she addresses with sensitivity and sound judgment.
Her heroes are still everyday, ordinary folk: there's Clara Casey - a senior cardiac specialist dealing with a shifty ex-husband and difficult grown-up daughters who won't fly the nest; quietly proud Ania, who flees her native Poland to mend a broken heart; earnest Dr Declan, who longs for love. But, as always, it's her characters' courage and strength in the face of adversity that will have readers everywhere rooting for them from their armchairs.
A SATISFYING TWIST TO THIS BOOK IS that personalities from previous novels reappear - some are mentioned in passing, others get a longer encore - but all of their stories are meshed neatly into the new plotline with a sweet touch and a sureness of purpose. There's noble Brenda Brennan from Quentin's, the eccentric twins from Scarlet Feather, melancholy Father Flynn from Whitethorn Woods, Fiona and Vonni from Nights of Rain and Stars, and Aidan and Signora from Evening Class. What a delight to find that all these characters are alive and well, and still coping with whatever life throws at them with grace, grit and a healthy dose of humour.
My eight-year-old daughter recently asked me just who this Maeve Binchy was and so I answered her truthfully - she is the Queen of Fiction and one of the finest and best-loved storytellers in the world.
She was satisfied with this answer, if a tad disappointed when I had to admit that no, Maeve probably doesn't wear a diamond tiara while writing or make everyone curtsy in her presence. I can't wait for her to be old enough to read a Maeve novel for herself - because once you read Maeve you are hooked for life. And who ever needed Pythagoras' Theorem anyway?
Niamh Greene's latest novel, Confessions of a Demented Housewife: The Celebrity Year, is out now, published by Penguin Ireland