This book covered some challenging subject matter but it did so with compassion, warmth and sincerity. The book stayed with me long after I had finished it.

Every story by Claire Keegan is a gem, and Small Things Like These is no exception. I found in it everything I love in her writing: her capacity to say so much in so few words, her vivid descriptions of the Irish setting and her distinct use of Hiberno-English, her compassion and empathy for the lives of others. Much has been said about the Magdalen Laundries and yet not enough – never enough. Claire Keegan's variation on this terrible theme is all the more original that it shows the point of view of a man: a man of modest origins, born out of wedlock himself, but who was lucky enough to be accepted by Mrs Wilson, the woman who employed his mother as a servant; a man who is now a father of 5 daughters. So when he is confronted to the ill treatment suffered by a girl at the hands of a nuns, it niggles him. And with Christmas coming, he can't help but reflect on what it means to be a Christian. Small Things Like These is the little book that everyone should be reading this winter.

This is such a perfect small novel. Beautifully written, a deep sense of place and time, strong characters and a story that will stay with you. I loved this and will be looking out for more by Claire Keegan in future. Every word is worthy of its inclusion on the page yet it reads fluidly and easily, and the ending will make you catch your breath.

I enjoy reading novellas because of their sharply pointed plots and illumination of a surprising event. Small Things Like These is a novella that transports its readers to an Irish town in the winter of 1985. It is here that Bill Furlong, born to a single mother and bullied because of their familial situation, still lives. Bill is now a married father of five daughters and works as a coal and timber merchant. His pre-Christmas deliveries of coal and timber to the local households affords him unique insights into the secrets and sense of shame carried by other residents in the town, but it is a visit to the local convent and laundry and their treatment meted out to the young women it proclaims to care for, that truly opens Bill’s eyes and spurs him to take on the establishment. That such a monumental struggle can be described, and a historic period conjured up so succinctly, in little over 100 pages is a genuine miracle – or perhaps a testament to Keegan’s powers as a fiction writer. Highly recommended. I wish to thank NetGalley and the publishers for their ARC that allowed me to provide this honest feedback.

This is not really a novel, it is not even a novella, more like a short story. It is set in the 1980s but the way the poverty and abuse is described you would think it was much earlier. It is the poignant story of a man who follows his conscience and rescues a girl from a miserable existence. His own mother, unlike this poor girl, was treated kindly as an unmarried mother and he feels himself to be very fortunate in life. The consequences of his actions are not stated in the story.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan is an exquisite and moving book. I totally agree with all the readers who have described it as a masterpiece. It is an incredibly poignant portrayal of a good and honest man who tries to do the best for those around him, and who despite his early suffering. lacks all bitterness.
What is remarkable is that the treatment of young women at the hands of religious institutions is not in the far-flung past. I loved it and was moved to tears.

Claire Keegan has crafted an outstanding novella that is heartbreakingly authentic, compelling in its message and reassuring in how a regular person rejected and ultimately helped curb the authority of the Catholic Church in Ireland.

Claire Keegan’s writing is exquisite (I have found a book fitting of those words), and Small Things Like These gently unfolds with a beautiful descriptive rhythm. In stark contrast to the beauty of language, it touches on the atrocious and sinful actions from within the religious orders in Ireland. Many of those charged with upholding exemplary conduct and shepherding their congregation towards a life in the image of God became the evil in our communities. The Magdalen Laundries became a venue for incarcerating single mothers that society spurned simply for becoming pregnant. They were places where women received appalling treatment, having their children taken away to be adopted, or worse.

Bill Furlong was the son of a sixteen-year-old housemaid, working for the wealthy Mrs Wilson. The kindness and care shown by Mrs Wilson, and his own personal circumstances, were undoubtedly an influence on Bill as she treated him like family. The story is set in 1985, and Bill is a coal and timber merchant, hardworking, and married to Eileen with five daughters. While the economic climate is depressed, Bill manages to survive and pass on kindness and charity to others. After supplying the convent and Magdalen Laundry with coal, he observes the working women supporting the nuns are discouraged and weary. Bill’s wife warns him to stay out of their business rather than invite the wrath of the Catholic Church.

After a further visit to the convent, he discovers a young woman locked in the coal shed and takes her to the Mother Superior on the run-up to Christmas. What he witnessed and the breakdown of the human spirit leaves him feeling guilty and hypocritical attending mass later.

“Was it possible to carry on along through all the years, the decades, through an entire life, without once being brave enough to go against what was there and yet call yourself a Christian, and face yourself in the mirror?”

For Bill Furlong, to do the right thing against the worries of powerful retaliation has a poetic quality during the time of Christmas. “Always, Christmas brought out the best and the worst in people.” The true history behind the Magdalen Laundries and how recent they existed is shocking. Small Things Like These is a very personal story and an insight into how many felt in their repulsion of the Church and how many were unaware of these evil secrets and the power the Church had to conceal them seemed boundless.

I would highly recommend reading this book, and I want to thank my fantastic Buddy, Ceecee, for drawing my attention to this remarkable book. I also want to thank Faber & Faber and NetGalley for providing me with a free ARC in return for an honest review.

This is an important book as it highlights long term abuse of young girls and mothers by the Catholic Church and an associated convent. These ‘laundries’ were covered up and the extent of the historic abuse only recognised by an apology in 2013. This is the story of a local coal merchant Bill Furlong who rescues one of the victims. It is beautifully told, sensitively analysed and has many important lessons to offer. It is also a brave move on the part of the author to bring attention to these injustices. This is not just a book for interested readers. It has much more importance than that as a public and lasting statement of historic abuse.

Beautifully written. A sort of Dickensian "Christmas Carol" but featuring the very real horror of the Magdalen Laundries. The kindly ghosts from Bill Furlongs past rise up to assist him when he witnesses a terrible cruelty. Should he act or speak out against the Nuns who have 'a finger in every pie' and risk the safe warm life he has built for himself and his family of girls or should he go along with the silently complicit majority that includes his wife, and do nothing? "Was their any point in being alive without helping one another."

reland in 1985 is a place of hardship, of job losses and the difficulties that entails. Bill Furlong is a coal and timber merchant, he’s married to Eileen and they have five daughters. Christmas is approaching, it’s extremely cold as the family prepare Christmas cakes and mince pies to enjoy over the festive season. They’re not rich but they’re getting by reasonably comfortably and Bill is generous to those in need. His mind is in constant flux, he compares his family Christmas with that of his boyhood especially reflecting on his unknown father but remembers with gratitude the generosity of Mrs Wilson who is so kind to his mother and himself. He questions much, he can’t relax and at times he’s tormented with questions. One exceptionally cold morning when delivering coal to the Good Shepherd Nuns Bill makes a discovery that jolts him to the core.

This is a powerful, beautifully written story which packs a great deal into a short novella which is truly admirable. It’s extremely visual with the small town in Ireland and it’s inhabitants springing to life and you clearly sense Bill’s turbulent feelings. Bill is a wonderful, compassionate man and also a very brave one as he faces a moral dilemma of doing what feels right in his heart with the strong probability of condemnation from many. It’s very touching and moving as you witness a man who refuses to look the other way no matter what it may cost him. This story keeps going round and round in my head and I think it’s one I’ll remember as is the character of Bill.

This is a work of fiction but the Magdalen Laundries are an established fact with the final one not closing it’s doors until 1996.

With thanks to NetGalley and especially to Faber and Faber for the much appreciated arc in return for an honest review.

It only takes an hour or so to read this short novella, but it is an hour well spent with sensitive writing and a Christmas theme of warmth and humanity. In fact, this little book should be on everyone’s Christmas list, as it spreads the message of love and generosity to all. Set in Ireland in the time of the infamous Magdalen laundries, it explores the thoughts of a kind and hardworking man, who believes himself blessed with a wife and five daughters, and who is deeply moved by the plight of those with less than himself. A deeply moving read that will stay in the mind of the reader for far longer than it takes to read the book.

This may be a short novella from the award winning Claire Keegan, but it packs a powerful punch, set in the bitterly cold winter of 1985 in Ireland in the run up to Christmas, we are inexorably drawn into the life of coal and timber merchant Bill Furlong, born to a 16 year old unmarried mother, employed by a kind Mrs Wilson who did not turn her out when she became pregnant. He is married to Eileen and they have 5 daughters, living in a community suffering the ravages of redundancies and desperate poverty. Whilst Bill is managing to survive, he does his best to help those less fortunate and those of his customers that are unable to pay, something his wife berates him for, but he is who he is as he dwells on his background, and a Mrs Wilson that had helped him rise above the circumstances into which he had been born.

When he makes a delivery to the local convent and Magdalen laundry, Bill encounters some of the unwed girls and single mothers incarcerated there that have him concerned as to how they are being treated, something that hits him even harder when he discovers a traumatised young mother, Sarah Redmond, locked in the freezing coalhouse. Bill just cannot wipe his memory of the horrors of what he has seen as he wrestles with his conscience. Eileen asks him to ignore it, drawing his attention on the need to protect their family. Indeed, Mrs Kehoe reminds him of the power and influence of the Catholic Church, the need for self preservation with her revealing comment 'They're all the one'. Despite the fearful and complicit community that shields the sins of the church, the courageous Bill cannot walk away, knowing he is inviting a world of trouble, he has to live with himself, finding an inner happiness in acting in a compassionate way, the real true Christian at Christmas.

This novel is a damning indictment of the morally bereft Catholic Church's cruel judgementalism of girls and women who got pregnant outside wedlock, their babies taken, their enslavement, and exploitation in the laundries. It is estimated approximately 30 000 women were imprisoned in the laundries finally closed in 1996, records were destroyed or made inaccessible, with true figures not known, it is thought that many thousands died. This is a read that enraged and made me want to weep, it's hard to believe such evil survived until 1996, the Church aided in perpetuating their criminal behaviour, the murders and injustices, by the Irish State. A hard hitting, poignant, and beautifully written book on the darkness in Ireland's history. Highly recommended. Many thanks to the publisher for an ARC.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan is a truly unforgettable story of life in the 1980s in a small town in Ireland and the impact of the Catholic Church in the everyday lives of its residents. At just over 100 pages, this is a short story but not one word is wasted and whilst completely unsentimental in its telling, it packs an emotional punch. The terrible recent history of the Magdalene Laundries and mother and baby homes in Ireland is well known but Small Things Like These frames the reality of living in the presence of one in a unique way that will stay with me for a long time to come. Thank you so much to Netgalley and Faber books for an advance copy in return for an honest review. One of my top reads of 2021.

This really tiny little novella is so powerful and affecting. It tells the story of a small Irish town in the 1980s where one normal man, leading a quiet normal life, can’t bear to witness the damage that the church is doing to young women and feels he has to do something. It’s a story of personal and collective history and secrets, and I of course read it in one big emotional gulp.

I struggled to engage with Small Things Like These, possibly because the writing almost seemed too direct, too judgemental and simplistic. It didn't feel like a story so much as a statement. I also wasn't sure what I thought about a man 'saving' a woman from her horrendous situation - in reality, how likely is it that men save women - and, despite being horrified by the laundries and the lack of responsibility long after the last closed, I didn't enjoy this as a work of fiction.

"Was it possible to carry on along through all the years, the decades, through an entire life, without once being brave enough to go against what was there and yet call yourself a Christian, and face yourself in the mirror?"

Claire Keegan is an award winning short story writer, publisher of two short story collections. One of her most famous and lauded stories “Foster” was later expanded by her and published by Faber and Faber as a hugely acclaimed novella.

This her fourth book is also best thought of as a novella – on winning the rights to publish it Faber I felt captured it beautifully as “an exquisite wintery parable” – and although I read this book at the end of August I think it would make an ideal Christmas gift or holiday reading – it almost has something of the nature of “A Christmas Carol”.

The book is spread over less than 100 generously spaced pages – but I imagine for this author that is something of a wide canvass on which to paint, and she manages to capture brilliantly a man (his difficult past, his ostensibly happy present, but also his sense of disquiet and finally his decision to take a stand on a point of principle regardless of the cost), the difficult history of a nation and its infamous Magdalen Laundries and to make a timeless fable. And all of it rendered in pitch perfect prose.

The book is set in Ireland in late 1985 – the third party protagonist is Bill Furlong who runs a successful

Bill was born to a single mother in 1946, who was taken in by the widow for who she had been working as a domestic. Bill was mercilessly teased at school for his status and lost his mother at 12, but had some stability from the widow and her farmhand who acted as something of foster parents to him – the widow then giving him some capital to start a coal and timber business. Now Bill is married and the father of five girls – the oldest two of which already attend the well-regarded local Catholic school. Bill at the time of the book is strangely disquieted at the poverty he sees around him (rather to the dismay of his wife who seems him as a soft touch) – but his crisis comes when he visits the local convent (which is also a laundry) only to be shocked by the mental and physical condition and predicament of some of the girls he sees there. The reassurances of the nuns and the warnings from both his wife and other women, firstly that the girls are undeserving and secondly not to take on the establishment power of the Catholic Church (not least due to the repercussions for his other three daughter’s chances of being accepted in the school) serve only to spur him on.

Overall this is a beautiful book and a perfect Christmas present.

What a beautiful book. I started another book after finishing this and yet I find my thoughts keep straying back to 'Small Things Like These.' The language is so lyrical, so breathtaking that I often found myself pausing to savour a phrase or description. The story itself is simple on the surface but tackles so much. It's not a hard-hitting expose of the laundries but the glimpses inside the convent as well as the murmurs and hints that give us a feeling of the views of the town and how reliant businesses and people are on the convent and the Church are hugely insightful. The tone is often melancholic, reflecting the very real everyday life of the people of the town. Bill's family, particularly his wife are fantastically well drawn and real. She works hard, looks after her family, relays the gossip of the town and knows what should and shouldn't be meddled in. Bill himself is a character that will stay with me for a while, I think. I'm so glad I read this book. For a short novel, its impact is huge.

What an absolute pleasure it has been to read Claire Keegan’s ‘Small Things Like These’. Right from the opening pages describing the town and people of New Ross, Ireland, I became invested in the lives of Bill Furlong, coal and timber merchant, and his family, such is the luminescence of Keegan’s writing.
This story can be read on many different levels. It is an exposé of the Magdalen laundry horrors, a criticism of the Catholic church, a celebration of compassion, and of lessons learned from benevolence. Furlong’s benefactor has taught him the value of kindness, of refraining from harsh judgement and, ultimately, in standing up for what is morally right, no matter what the Church or Society might deem appropriate
In the run-up to Christmas, Bill delivers coal to the local convent. Keegan writes: ‘When he reached the convent, the reflection of his headlights crossed the windowpanes and it felt as though he was meeting himself there.’ It is this self that he will later question as he faces what has been done and how he is connected. Unlocking the coal store, he discovers a filthy, shaven-headed, freezing cold girl. To his shame he asks few questions and leaves after a story about a hide and seek game gone wrong.
As his family make their final preparations for Christmas, amidst the cake icing, the letters to ‘Santy’, and the present wrapping, the image of the distraught young mother haunts him. On the road home from the convent, momentarily disorientated, he stops to ask where he is: ‘This road?’ The man put down the hook, leant on it, and stared in at him. ‘This road will take you wherever you want to go, son.’ Keegan’s description of this next journey is perfection.
This is a beautifully written story, both simple and profound. Set at Christmas, it is, in essence, an exploration of the best and the worst of what it is to be human. A stunning achievement.
My thanks to NetGalley and Faber and Faber Ltd for a copy of this novel in exchange for a fair review.

Small Things Like These is a mere 124 pages with a good deal of white space thrown in but it’s extraordinarily powerful. Set in 1985, it follows timber and coal merchant, Bill Furlong, during his busiest time in the days before Christmas, who is faced with a moral dilemma.

Bill has lived in New Ross all his life. His illegitimacy marks him out but he’s done well for himself thanks to the generosity and kindness of his mother’s employer in whose house he grew up. He’s a decent man, aware of the poverty in the town, quietly helping out where he can, knowing that he’s privileged. On the Sunday before Christmas, he delivers a load to the local convent and makes a discovery he cannot ignore despite the consequences. There’s long been gossip about the young girls taken in for ‘training’ in the convent laundry, often pregnant when they arrive, but the people of New Ross know the power of the Church and look the other way. Life will be easier for Bill if he joins them but he’s all too well aware of what could have happened to his own mother.

Keegan quietly uncovers the cruelty practised in the convent and the complicity of a townspeople who understand the ruination that can be visited upon them if they voice concern. She includes a note elucidating the grim history of the Magdalen laundries, the last of which closed in 1996, juxtaposing it with an excerpt from the 1916 proclamation of the Irish Republic, allowing her readers to draw their own conclusions as she does throughout her novella. It’s a story that’s been told before but that makes Keegan’s work no less remarkable in its acuity and power. An extraordinary book which reminded me of both Colm Tóibín’s and John McGahern’s novels.

Even in the final lines of the miniature masterpiece that is Small Things Like These, Claire Keegan continues her painstaking application of multiple layers: “…his fear more than outweighed every other feeling but in his foolish heart he not only hoped but legitimately believed that they would manage.”

That “legitimately” contains echoes of the “illegitimate” (non-marital) status that was so powerful a force in marking children in Irish society up to recent decades, a status that applied to Bill Furlong, the central character of this novella, and to whose troubled yet generous thoughts we are given access.

Furlong’s mother had become pregnant at 16 while unmarried but her comparatively wealthy Protestant employer, Mrs Wilson, had let her continue working and keep the child, an unusual course in those times. His mother died when he was twelve and he was never told who his father was.

The story is set in a biggish town, New Ross, Co. Wexford (near Colm Tóibín territory) in 1985 at a time when layoffs and closures are common and poverty is rising - “a young schoolboy eating from a chip bag that had been thrown down on the street the night before.” But Furlong is the very hands-on owner of a comparatively successful fuel delivery business - “He’d a head for business, and was known for getting along…he had developed good Protestant habits; was given to rising early and has no taste for drink.” However, his profits are quite modest - possibly because he is prepared to extend charity - and a lorry upgrade will mean postponement of home improvement. Furlong is unhappy about this as he is very close to his wife and five daughters. Keegan builds up the homely situation around Furlong very convincingly, using the limited space to find telling dialogue or situations. The night of the letters to Santa is perfectly used in this regard.

But it is Furlong’s interaction with an inmate of the nearly Mother and Bay home, which operates a Magdalen laundry, that is the dramatic lynchpin of the story. As Keegan notes in a short “Note on the Text,” “…the Mother and Baby Home Commission Report found that nine thousand children died in just eighteen of the institutions investigated.” The last one did not change until 1996, but the novella, wisely, does not give any coverage to the overall picture, only what Furlong encounters and sees.

While Furlong had been generous to the less well-off and was happy with his family, he is also troubled, in a way that John McGahern, whose successor Keegan is often considered to be (which ignores her magic/supernatural strand), might have written: “Always it was the same, Furlong thought; always they carried mechanically on, without pause, to the next job at hand.” His wife senses that his mind is moving more profoundly and tells him: “Where does thinking get us?…All thinking does is bring you down.”

When his encounter with the suicidal and dehumanised inmate of the Mother and Baby home, who did not have the chance his mother had and whose baby will not have the good fortune he had, leads to his politely challenging the Reverend Mother, he is subtly undermined. She is the only one who calls him “Billy,” reducing his status and refers innocently to the benefits his daughters are getting and will get from being educated in the Convent school run by the same order of nuns, who could withdraw such benefits, an unspoken threat. She also gets a bush telegraph into operation and Furlong is subsequently well-warned in various understated ways..

But the frustration and self-questioning that had been building up, lead to a decisiveness on Furlong’s part after he gets a possible insight into his origins.

There has been an awareness all through the book of disparities of wealth and in the final page there is a striking image of Furlong with a box of shoes for his wife’s Christmas present and a barefoot girl.

As well as being so well-written, this is also a compulsive and unforgettable read.