JG Farrell's Troubles

was awarded the lost Man Booker prize this year. Written in 1970 it was missed because of a change in the rules. This is an odd one. To start, we all know how much I hate Irish writing (thanks to Frank McCourt's disgusting blathering vomit about his boo-hoo childhood) so I went into it a bit cautiously. The book is long (at 450 pages) and didn't feel like it was moving at all but I was always surprised at how far I had progressed. The story is exactly what one would expect, so no surprise there but it was really well put together. It was quite funny and heart-warming and preachy in a sweet way. When the protagonist almost dies at the end I was shocked and I must say if he had died I would have stopped reading the book. I know this is part 1 of a trilogy and I'm doubtful I'll pick up the other two, yet it was good.