Bell ringing and Beatlemania jostle with snooker, unisex boutiques and tomato sandwiches in this chronicle of the coming of age of rural Ireland in the 1960s as told by two mutually antagonistic narrators: in the youthful corner, long haired Tim Harding, a "black Protestant" of doubtful parentage; in the old fogey department, Mr Yendall, deputy manager of Montague's out fitters. Michael Curtin conjures up a whole hatful of loonies of varying hues, and with such obvious and consistent affection that you find yourself getting fond of them against your better judgment, of course. If this is fun, it's fun of a distinctly bittersweet flavour.
