Anthony Cronin’s ‘Dead as Doornails’: A Portrait of 1950s Dublin’s Literary Scene
Anthony Cronin’s 1976 memoir, Dead as Doornails, is experiencing a resurgence, with a new edition published by Deep Vellum Publishing in . The book, widely considered a defining work of Irish literary memoir, offers a wry and often humorous look at the post-war literary scene in Dublin, populated by figures like Brendan Behan, Patrick Kavanagh and Flann O’Brien.
More than a simple recounting of literary gatherings, Cronin’s work is a nuanced portrait of a generation grappling with frustration, insecurity, and the limitations of cultural life in a rapidly changing Ireland. As Joseph O’Connor notes in his introduction to the new edition, the book captures a specific time and place – a Dublin “of crusty proprieties and pitiless squalor” – but its themes resonate far beyond its immediate setting. O’Connor describes a “shabby glamour, a monochrome, hardboiled, collar-raised-against-the-rain sense of doomed life.”
Cronin’s prose style is a key element of the book’s enduring appeal. He eschewed the “Kerry schoolmaster” genre of Irish writing, which prioritized a sense of rootedness and authenticity, opting instead for clarity and precision. His sentences, even when describing hardship – “sitting in McDaid’s in wet socks and wondering where the next crust is going to come from” – possess an “almost Augustan classical elegance.” This tension between the often-bleak subject matter and the refined style creates a unique energy, making the book difficult to put down, according to O’Connor.
Dead as Doornails doesn’t shy away from the darker aspects of its subjects’ lives. It acknowledges the “hunger, loneliness, worry, a lot of drinking,” which O’Connor suggests was often self-medication. The book portrays a world where compassion is frequently required, anticipating the dynamics explored in the film Withnail and I. Cronin’s approach isn’t one of judgment, even when depicting the more “outrageously annoying” behaviors of Kavanagh, Behan, and O’Nolan. He observes with a forgiving eye, recognizing the eccentricities as a price worth paying for the privilege of knowing such remarkable people.
The memoir extends beyond Dublin, offering glimpses into Cronin’s time in London, where he encountered a different but equally compelling literary and artistic milieu. He writes of his experiences as a literary editor and his friendships with writer Julian Maclaren-Ross and painters Robert MacBryde and Robert Colquhoun, capturing the atmosphere of postwar Soho with its “sullen jazzmen and partying painters.” This section of the book, O’Connor suggests, foreshadows the spirit of Shane MacGowan’s songs, particularly his evocative depictions of urban life.
Cronin’s work also provides a valuable historical record of a period when Irish writers were largely ignored or marginalized by the state. O’Connor points out that Cronin’s advocacy for artists and writers was crucial, particularly for those facing economic hardship and uncertainty. The book acknowledges the precariousness of a life dedicated to art, where the threat of eviction or financial ruin was ever-present.
The enduring power of Dead as Doornails lies in its honesty and its refusal to romanticize the lives of its subjects. Cronin presents a complex and often contradictory portrait of a generation struggling to find its place in a world that offered few certainties. He understood suffering, a quality that informed his acclaimed biography of Samuel Beckett. But he also recognized the importance of humor and the “possibilities of the day,” even amidst hardship.
O’Connor concludes that Cronin’s work, like that of other great Irish storytellers, understands that laughter can be a disarming force, allowing truth to penetrate more deeply. The “glee that is only grief on a good day” is a recurring theme in the book, reminding readers that even in the darkest of times, there is always room for irony and resilience. Dead as Doornails is not simply a memoir; it’s a testament to the enduring power of friendship, the complexities of artistic life, and the enduring allure of a bygone era.