Today I finished reading
This is the jacket of this book, published in 1944, and consequently bearing a notice that it is produced in conformity with (wartime) authorised economy standard. It is, however of more pleasing and longer lasting materials than trade publications of today.
Here is the front board and the title page.
The Lee of the title is the river running through the city of Cork, the author’s birthplace.
Defying classification, this work is a series of memoirs, a ramble through Ireland’s history, myth, and legend; a splendid description of flora, fauna, and particularly avifauna that he encounters on his travels by foot, boat, and motor vehicle; along the way he relates tales told by people with whom he engages, and such stories of his own. Rather like the engaging stories of blogger Paol Soren, these tales are clearly a mix of fact and fiction as a vehicle for conveying his points.
With a comprehensive knowledge of natural history, a superb grasp of language, and an ability to present dialogue such as we hear the vernacular lilt, a keen eye for detail and an ability to depict this in both flowing prose and
superb wood engravings, Gibbings has presented us with another bucolic gem.
Above all it is a paean to the land of his birth after many years’ absence.
This evening Jackie produced another marvellous beef pie with fresh vegetables. I drank more of the Shiraz, and no-one else did.