The Women Behind the Door
Sometimes I feel like I grew up as a reader in tandem with Roddy Doyle’s journey as a writer. In college, my parents gave me Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, Doyle’s 1993 Booker-winning novel. I was mesmerized by the cover and even more mesmerized by the dialogue (some of which was hard for me to decipher). I didn’t read his debut, The Commitments, until much later, but once I did, the pieces — based until then on the film version, which was a huge hit when I was in high school — fell into place for me. I have a vague memory of reading The Woman Who Walked into Doors when my kids were really little. (So rare for me to read an entire book at that point!) I don’t remember a ton, save for its more difficult subject matter, but I do remember knowing that I could reliably count on a Roddy Doyle book. Living in Dublin gave me visuals for Doyle’s settings and also made so much more of the dialogue click. I was thrilled to volunteer for a couple of years at Fighting Words, the creative writing center he founded in the same vein as Dave Eggers’ 826 National. I think I’ve read every last one of his novels for adults, and some he wrote for kids too. I’ve written longform pieces about 3 (?) of them, if my count’s correct.
So of course I had to read Doyle’s newest, The Women Behind the Door. Here’s the thing about Roddy Doyle’s books: Reading them is akin to easing into a comfortable chair that has just one wonky spring. It is so easy to become totally immersed in the world he’s created until something heart wrenching — in this book, we’ve got addiction, memories of domestic violence, and Covid — needles you. He writes with such sneaky humor that sometimes it feels a bit sacrilegious to be smiling or laughing because it’s not like his books are pleasant beach reads. But, somehow, they *are* pleasant.
In trademark Doyle fashion, The Women Behind the Door follows a character readers have met before: Paula, from the novels The Woman Who Walked Into Doors and Paula Spencer. Doyle’s pursuit of the same characters even 30 years on never feels forced, and for me, it’s a nice reminder that Doyle’s had a robust and meaningful career — and I get to travel along too.
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