McGahern hidden in a world of his own
The man, about 70 years old and a bit of a philosopher by his talk, walks down country lanes and across fields.
The man, about 70 years old and a bit of a philosopher by his talk, walks down country lanes and across fields. A dog bounds before him, scouting and coming back for approval the way dogs do. Often the man wears a cap, sensible countryman attire, as the Irish weather specialises in spiteful ambushes. But then, suddenly, the man is in Tokyo, flat cap still on, surrounded by strangeness and strangers.
Now I know this man...
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