Catherine Brophy’s Burning Bright is a comedy about the Kerrigan family, who have built themselves up from rags to riches during the Celtic tiger. The story mostly follows the life of Daddy’s Girl Kirsty as she attempts to make it out of the small town of Balfathery, where everybody knows everybody, and into big-time showbiz.
Burning Bright doesn’t have a main character, so to speak. Instead, it incorporates narratives from multiple characters, both from the Kerrigan family and from outside it. It’s these different narratives that really make the book. For example, Kirsty, the overwhelmingly spoilt rich girl can be amusing to read about, but her best friend Lala’s down-to-earth point of view balances out the book. Similarly, the novel does an excellent job of portraying the disparities between generations in Ireland through its multiple narratives. Kirsty, Lala, and Jake represent the younger generation of Ireland, coming into their own and learning from their own mistakes whilst simultaneously having their parents’ fortune to fall back on. Fergus and Marian represent another generation; the one that didn’t have their parents’ fortune to back them up but made it big anyhow, and are struggling to find the balance between giving their kids everything that they need and want and letting them grow on their own. Perhaps the biggest contrast between generations is the inclusion of Nana Jo’s narrative, who is rife with comments about how money has ruined Ireland by bringing sin into the country and is essentially stuck in the past.
This contrast between the generations also shows Brophy’s merit as an author: the creation of believable characters. The thing with Brophy’s characters is that we’ve all known these people that she’s written about. Nana Jo, who finds the blasphemous in everything is a character that most people have known (especially if you’re Irish). Kirsty, head-in-the-clouds delusional – but slowly finding her grounding in the world – reminds me of many people I’ve known in my life. Perhaps the most relevant of all is Lala’s pretentious college boyfriend Mark, who writes “deep” poetry, brimming with big words that Lala can’t make heads or tails of. Although a minor character, I feel like we’ve all known people like that at college; that it’s almost an integral part of the college experience. That Brophy can capture that so brilliantly in such a minor character speaks highly of her capacities as a writer.
Despite the book’s strengths, it did come up short in certain aspects. The blurb at the back of the book suggests that the Kerrigan family’s “blast from the past” will be the major crux of the novel. However, this “blast from the past,” also known as the character of Tracey, serves to be nothing but a distracting subplot to the novel. Likewise, the pacing of the novel lets the story down. In the space of 320 pages, Brophy manages to squeeze in the lives of more than half a dozen characters, spanning at least four years. Whilst managing to be interesting, it often feels too fast paced. The development of Kirsty’s character also might have benefited from slower pacing, as I found myself surprised at how much Kirsty had grown by the end of the novel, but felt like I hadn’t really witnessed the growth in the novel itself.
However, perhaps the best thing about Brophy’s novel is that it does a fantastic job of telling an Irish story without alienating those who aren’t actually Irish. The book boasts an Irish kind of humour. It’s clever, nuanced; often sarcastic and witty, and is very naturally incorporated into both prose and dialogue. It’s also brimming with Irish slang that gives the book a certain authenticity (and Brophy’s even provided a handy guide to Irish slang for readers who might find it a bit difficult to follow).
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