Georgina Louise Hambleton - Christy Brown: The Life that Inspired My Left Foot

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Epub ISBN: 9781780573342

Version 1.0

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Copyright Georgina Louise Hambleton, 2007

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by

MAINSTREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY (EDINBURGH) LTD

7 Albany Street

Edinburgh EH1 3UG

ISBN 9781845962807

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any other means without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast

Extracts from My Left Foot, A Shadow on Summer,

Wild Grow the Lilies, Down All the Days and Collected Poems by

Christy Brown, published by Secker & Warburg, reprinted by permission of The Random House Group Ltd

Whos Who by W.H. Auden, from Collected Shorter Poems 19271957, reproduced by permission of Faber & Faber Ltd

The author has made every effort to clear all copyright permissions, but where this has not been possible and amendments are required, the publisher will be pleased to make any necessary arrangements at the earliest opportunity

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T hanks are due to the following artists, editors, agents, librarians, journalists and others: Victoria Belfrage, Didier Bidou, Cathy Boyle, Michael Breathnach, Anne Buckley, Bill Campbell, Michael Chen, Shane Connaughton, Professor Lennard J. Davis, Patricia Day, Daniel Day-Lewis, Tom Desmond, Gerard Dockery, Anna Doherty, Professor Terry Dolan, Ronnie Drew, Stijn Dulemare, Victoria Enright, Ciara Gibbons, Brian Hand, Seamus Heaney, Anthony Jordan, Neil Jordan, Claire Keegan, Brendan Kennelly, Eva Kopriosek, Gene Lambert, James Liddy, Brian Lynch, Alicia Macauley, Maura Mahon, Pat McBride, Maria McCudden, Geoff Mulligan, Dominic Murtagh, Bill ODonnell, Sunniva OFlynn, Emer Ryan, Sol Stein and Dicky Uthaman (and his family and staff).

I am grateful for time spent at the Irish Film Institute; the Irish College in Paris; the National Library of Ireland; Kirbys Pub in Ballyheigue, County Kerry; Link Internet store and call centre; Kilmainham Gaol; Marino Library; and Shakespeare and Company bookstore. Thanks to Bernard, Charlie and Olivia at TPS for their invaluable work.

My particular thanks to my family, John Banville, Adrian Dunbar, Eddie Holt, Professor Declan Kiberd, Loretta Longden, Professor Frank McGuinness, Dr Emilie Morin, Ulick OConnor, Noel Pearson, Ariana Roseman, Peter Sheridan, Eoghan Smith and Jonathan Williams for their invaluable advice, close readings and support. And thank you to mo ch for being my very best friend.

Chapter One

A BEGINNING

I was born in 1932, in Dublin, the son of a brick-layer and the twelfth in a line of twenty-two, of which thirteen survived... I was born with a complaint called cerebral palsy resulting from injury to part of my brain that controls and coordinates movement. This left me completely paralysed except for the use of one limb my left foot, with which I learned to draw, paint, write and nearly everything one normally does with ones hands. I never attended school and picked up my few scraps of knowledge from watching brothers and sisters with their homework, observing other people, and later on from books borrowed, stolen and occasionally bought in second-hand places on the quays.

Until the age of seventeen I could not talk except by my eyes and foot and a queer sort of grunting language understood only by my family. I attended a clinic later on in Dublin for some years, but was by that time too old to gain any lasting benefit from the treatment involved. In 1954 I wrote my life story, which was published in the same year in England and in America, and has since been translated into French, German, Italian, Dutch, Japanese and Braille... I hope someday to be a poet and put out a little volume of verse.

Christy Brown, writing to Liam Miller

of the Dolmen Press in Dublin,

1963

I n 2003, I was an undergraduate literature student at University College Dublin and I had never heard of the artist and writer Christy Brown. I studied like crazy for the final exams for my degree course that year. My approach was lots of studying combined with taking taxis back and forth from college while living on copious cigarettes and endless cups of black coffee. One day, I took a taxi from the university back to my flat on the south side of Dublin city. While I was in the cab, the driver started to quiz me about the book I was reading, which happened to be Ulysses. There arent many cities in the world where Ulysses would be a normal topic of conversation in a cab.

Whats that book about? he asked me.

Well, actually, Ive only read a few chapters but apparently Joyce you know, the guy who wrote it well, from what I understand, hes rewriting the English language. Its mad and some of it I cant even read but parts of it are hilarious too...

Well, you know, hes the one Irish writer I could never read. I love to read. Have you ever read Behan? he asked me.

No, I said. Do you mind if I smoke?

No bother, work away, he told me. We chatted about books as we drove along and eventually he pulled up outside my house and lit a cigarette. He offered me another one. I accepted.

Brendan Behan. Now, theres someone you should read. Brendan was hilarious. I knew him. You know the joke about Behan on his deathbed?

Nope, never heard it.

Well, Brendan was on his deathbed and, you know, he was famous for being a bit of a bastard excuse my language, here, but he was. He hated the Catholic Church, Ireland, the English, everybody. He took the piss out of everyone. So, on his deathbed, he was surrounded by nuns, who all wanted him to accept the last rites, you know, the way loads of Catholics accept God right at the end.

So these nuns were gathered around Brendan and they are dying for him to take God into his life. And he was really ill, you know. Brendan was a heavy drinker. He got very sick in the end. So the nuns were wiping his brow and waiting, just waiting. Suddenly, Brendan called over one of the nuns.

Sister, sister, come here, he says.

Ah, what is it, Brendan? Are you all right?

Lean close in to me, sister.

She leaned in.

Closer, he says.

She leaned in closer.

Sister, he whispered in her ear, I hope all your sons grow up to be bishops.

It took me a second to get it but then the penny dropped and I laughed.

Brendan knew Christy Brown, you know.

Who?

The writer Christy Brown.

I cant say I have ever heard the name before, I told him honestly.

Ah, you do know him. They made his life into this great film called