By Patrick McCabe
A new version of this Booker-shortlisted novel for the discharge of Neil Jordan’s movie edition, staring Liam Neeson and Stephen Rea.
Set in eire within the Seventies, Breakfast on Pluto follows the exploits of Patrick “Pussy” Braden, an endearing yet deceptively tricky younger guy. deserted as a toddler in his small Irish native land and acutely aware from a really early age that he's various, Patrick survives this harsh setting because of his wit, attraction and a candy refusal to allow someone or whatever switch who he's. it is a surreal and magical story, a humorous, relocating and poignant rites of passage novel. it's also a vibrant and unsettling touch upon the human cost paid within the cultural and political weather of eire at that time.
'Wild, hilarious, cruel and fiendishly clever'
Independent on Sunday
'He is the lucky possessor of a savage and unfettered mind's eye; his books . . . dissect life's miseries with a glowing comedic scalpel'
'It unearths humour in areas that different writers are afraid to appear for it'
This is a savagely humorous and authentically tragic novel of an eire in unsatisfied transition and underneath McCabe's completely brought black comedy lies an offended heart'
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Extra info for Breakfast on Pluto
Thank goodness we didn't go in my sister's Volvo. Still, it gave me time to get the tea cosy I was looking for (or, as they call it, SchlurpWully) and I found a lovely new bedside lamp (LiteFondl). Ironically, next to the futon Stephen fell asleep on (NobEd). 10 Monday We told Stephen Junior that he's adopted this evening. He isn't, but there was nothing on TV. 11 Tuesday Read an article about how some frustrated women use cooking to compensate for the lack of . . well . . marital shenanigans.
25 Friday Stephen spent the evening in the Dog & Duck, crawling home around midnight. Unusually, I had a lovely, undisturbed night's rest. Stephen was asleep as soon as the pillow hit his head. 26 Saturday Spent a good five hours rummaging around in the attic. Once I'd finally negotiated the dust, cobwebs and back issues of Ladybitz Monthly, it was quite an eye-opener. My first find was a huge, ancient portrait of someone I assume was Stephen's great-grandfather, although he's never mentioned him.
Fortunately they'd had a cancellation so I managed to book a slot next Friday. It was a very reasonable price, excluding coffin tax, font duty, choice of pew and a hearse. Luckily, Stephen's mate Barry was able to help us out on that score as he owns a car hire company. He owes Stephen a favour, so he's letting us have a hearse at a knock-down price. I'm not entirely sure what kind of favour Stephen did for him. I'm not sure I want to know any more . . 17 Thursday Stephen's dyed his hair green and knocked back three pints of Guinness before breakfast.