by Colin Overall

In 1946, a young American arrived in Dublin to study natural sciences at Trinity College. Finding a land untouched by the worst excesses of the Second World War and a prevailing mood of conviviality amongst its inhabitants, he set about his studies. However, it was in the pubs and bolt-holes of bohemian Dublin that this education was to take place, and the resulting thesis was The Ginger Man. This novel brought instant and lasting fame to its author, J.P. Donleavy.

James Patrick Donleavy, who celebrates his 75th birthday this month, was born in Brooklyn on 23rd April 1926 to Irish-immigrant parents and was raised in Woodlawn, a middle-class suburb on the borders of the Bronx. Surprisingly, given the family background the young Donleavy's first impression of Ireland came from the cinema, from John Ford's powerful adaptation of Liam O'Flaherty's novel, The Informer.But it was in his teenage years, spent in the Irish bars of Rockaway, Long Island, listening to the ceildh bands and watching Irish dancing, that the full impact of Ireland began to take hold.

These experiences were compounded when, during the Second World War, Donleavy entered the Naval Academy Preparatory School in Maryland as a student. Here, an enlightened and humorous Professor of English detected shades of James Joyce in some of the writing assignments produced by the class. Donleavy, who had been ghost writing essays for less able students, was affronted that his style had already been imitated and immediately set off to research his author of whom he had never heard. Discovering that Joyce was a Dubliner, who as a young man had patronised the pubs and brothels of that fair city and was also the author of banned and 'obscene' works, added greatly to the allure of that distant land of his forebears.

On his discharge from the navy, Donleavy decided that it was time to go to college. After applying to American colleges without much luck, his thoughts turned to Ireland. He asked his Irish-born mother if she knew of any colleges in Ireland, and she suggested Trinity College, Dublin. With little fuss, Donleavy was accepted by this prestigious college, through a combination of luck and the board's "ignorance of American qualifications".

Studying under the G.I. Bill of Rights, with rooms at Trinity and a regular allowance from his mother, Donleavy was relatively well-off. And Dublin, in the grip of post-war euphoria, it pubs packed and no rationing, had plenty to offer.

BOHEMIAN

A different kind of literary scene was also developing. The death of W.B.Yeats in 1939 had freed Irish writers from the influence of the most dominating figure in Irish literature of the preceding fifty years. In addition, the stuffy salon life of the Irish Literary Revival had given way to a more bohemian milieu of pubs and after-hours drinking dens such as the now legendary 'Catacombs'. With two of these pubs, Davy Byrne's and McDaid's, just a short walk from Trinity College, Donleavy quickly found himself in this literary and social resurgence.

Among the characters he met at this time were Brendan Behan and his crony, the frighteningly named Lead Pipe Daniel the Dangerous; John Ryan, his first publisher; and Gainor Stephen Crist, the model for the Ginger Man. Crist, an American studying law at Trinity, was charismatic, debonair and a formidable drinker. Taking advantage of an accent that could be passed off as upper-class English, he was an expert at obtaining goods on credit, especially alcohol. Crist was also something of an eccentric, attending John Ryan's wedding as head usher wearing an old pair of tennis shoes, a paint-streaked shirt and a tie that had been recently chewed by his dog. This ensemble was graced by the addition of the obligatory morning suit. The events that led to Crist wearing this unusual attire are hilariously described by Donleavy in his autobiography, The History of The Ginger Man (1994).

However, Donleavy's first foray into Dublin's artistic scene was not in literature but painting. Inspired by a Jack Yeats exhibition, and particular the asking prices, Donleavy purchased paints, brushes and canvas. Setting himself up in this college sitting-room, he produced enough work to have three exhibitions in The Painter's Gallery at 7 St Stephen's Green. Although these exhibitions provided much publicity, owing mainly to the risqué subject-matter of the paintings, they had little financial success.

SHORT STORY

Donleavy's first published writing was a short story entitled 'Party on a Saturday', which appeared in the April 1950 edition of Envoy. This magazine - a 'Review of Literature and Art' - had offices at 39 Grafton Street, Dublin, and was edited by Donleavy's friend John Ryan. The story was later published in the author's only collection of short stories, Meet My Maker the Mad Molecule (1965).

In 1948, Donleavy married Valerie Heron, sister of Michael Heron, his Trinity College room-mate. The realisation of his responsibilities as a husband, and the predicament of finding suitable accommodation, brought on what Donleavy thought was a serious heart attack. On finding that there was nothing wrong with his heart and that he was probably just suffering a severe attack of anxiety, he decided he needed the security of owning his own property.

Using money given as wedding presents, he purchased a smallholding near Kilcoole on the Wicklow coast for £350. Consisting of four acres of land, a dilapidated cottage and two sheds. Kilcoole was remote and isolated. The journey into Trinity College also proved difficult and Donleavy began missing classes.

Becoming increasingly desperate and believing that perhaps fame and fortune could be gained from his painting, he took his portfolio to the art galleries of Cork Street, London. But instead of finding a wider audience for his work, he was informed by the Redfern Gallery that, although his paintings were original, they could do nothing for him until he was famous. Caught in a classic 'catch-22' situation, Donleavy vowed that he "would write a book that no one could stop and would make my name known in every nock and cranny all over the world.". Galvanised by by rejection, he returned to Kilcoole and, in June of 1951, he started writing what was to become The Ginger Man.

PICARESQUE

Based on real-life characters and events - it has been said that Donleavy took notes whilst the mayhem and madness continued about him - The Ginger Man is an evocative portrait of bohemian Dublin in the late 1940s. In what is essentially a picaresque novel, we follow the exploits of its main protagonist, Sebastian Balfe Dangerfield, an American studying law at Trinity College. Supported by a variety of offbeat and engaging characters, Dangerfield drinks, fornicates and blasphemes his way through the novel while managing to elude all responsibility and work of any kind. The humour is bawdy and at times farcical, the language is full of wit and irony. But there is something more. It is a bleaker humour, a humour that is imbued with a sadness that reflects the absurdity of the human condition.

Donleavy's search for a publisher was a tortuous and disheartening affair, which did not end with the novel's eventual publication. Aware that the content of the novel might pose a problem, his first submission was to America's most liberal publishing house, Charles Scribner of New York. Under the working title of S.D. (Sebastian Dangerfield), Donleavy submitted the manuscript on 1st, May, 1952. Despite being praised as one of the best manuscripts ever received by Scribner's, it was rejected for what was considered its unremitting obscenity. The manuscript was to be submitted nearly 50 times before Donleavy was to find a publisher.

The Olympia Press was suggested to Donleavy by Brendan Behan during a drinking session in London which ended with Donleavy and Behan fighting in the middle of Fleet Street. Based in Paris, the Olympia Press was founded in 1953 by a colourful character named Maurice Girodias. Girodias's aim was to publish in Paris English books that "would fight Anglo-American conventions." Unfortunately for Donleavy, all he knew of the Olympia Press was they had published Samuel Beckett's Watt under their "Collection Merlin Series". Impressed by such a credential and lured by the reputation of Paris as a haven for artists and writers, Donleavy sent his manuscript to the Olympia Press on 11th September 1954. After consideration, Girodias replied that he was prepared to make an offer but only if major revisions were undertaken, including a change of title. Anxious for publication, Donleavy agreed to revise the manuscript and suggested The Ginger Man as an alternative title. This was accepted and term were finalised.

However, Donleavy the received a letter from Girodias asking him if he wanted the book published under his own name or pseudonymously - a warning os what was to come. Donleavy naturally informed Girodias that he wanted The Ginger Man to appear under his own name. Despite all the rejections, his faith in the literary merit of his novel remained firm.

On the 15th July 1955, Donleavy received a package from Paris, inside were two copies of The Ginger Man. As he examined the paperback books in their pale green wrappers, his bewilderment turned to rage as full realisation of the wrong sunk in. Printed on the cover below the title and the author's name was 'No. 7', and below that 'The Traveller's Companion Series'. Worse was to come. As he flipped through the book, he discovered at the back a page advertising other titles in the series. These included Rape, School for Sin, The Whip Angels, Chariots of Flesh, and White Thighs.

PORNOGRAPHY

Instead of Beckett and the literary 'Collection Merlin Series', Donleavy found himself published under Girodias's 'dirty book' imprint. The novels in 'The Traveller's Companion Series' were written by a group of hard-up literary figures who used the income to subsidise their more serious writing. As they were, in effect, writing pornography to order, they used pseudonyms to protect themselves from the attentions of the French police. Donleavy was devastated to find himself in the company of such authors as 'Marus van Heller', .Frances Lengel' and 'Robert Desmond'. Not a man to be crossed, he swore revenge on Maurice Girodias, whom he saw as a trickster and con man.

The Olympia Press printed 5,000 copies of The Ginger Man, for which Donleavy received a flat fee of £250. Copies of the first edition are now rare, and values have increased markedly in recent years. At Sotheby's sale of 19th December, a Very Good copy sold for £1, 645 (including a buyer's premium of 17.5%) against an estimate of £500 - £700. A few copies, which were confiscated by the French police shortly after publication, were released onto the market in the winter of 1987-88 and were on offer for about £90 - something of a bargain. Apart from Donleavy aficionados, the notoriety of the Olympia Press makes this edition of interest to general collectors.

The publication of an expurgated edition by British publisher, Neville Spearman, in December 1956 brought matters to a head. Girodias disputed Donleavy's ownership of the British rights and sued for breach of contract. So began an acrimonious legal battle that was to last over 21 years. However, never one to miss an opportunity, Girodias took advantage of the situation. Realising that demand for the for the unexpurgated version would increase in the wake of the Spearman edition, he printed 500 hardback copies of the full text. [Compendium note: The Olympia hardcover edition of 1958 is slightly expurgated but less so than the Spearman edition. It was created to compete with the Spearman edition, Girodias banking on its less objectionable content getting it past British customs.] To distinguish this issue, Girodias had the words 'Paris Edition' printed under the title and put a blurb on the dustjacket pointing out that this was 'more complete' than the British version. Unfortunately for Girodias, they were seized by British customs. Subsequently released, they now command between £30 - £50 in Fine condition with the dustjacket.

Copies of the Neville Spearman edition are now quite scarce. I saw a Very Poor copy at a London bookfair a couple of years ago which was priced at £100. For that money, you could expect to buy a jacketed copy in Fine condition, although you may have to pay as much as £150 for such a book. The first unexpurgated British edition of The Ginger Man was the Corgi paperback of 1963, which now sells for up to £15 in Fine condition.

In the late 1960s, after the failure of several of his business schemes, Girodias was declared bankrupt, and in 1970 the Olympia Press was auctioned in Paris. Besides Girodias, who was hoping to buy back his treasured Olympia Press at a nominal sum, two young women attended the auction with their lawyer. Much to Girodias's surprise and annoyance, each time he made a bid he was outbid by the lawyer on behalf of the two women. This carried on for some time until Girodias, realising that he could go no higher, angrily burst out of the auction room a defeated man. The two women who had successfully bid against him were Mary Price [Mary Wilson-Price] and Phyllis MacArdle. These two names meant nothing to Girodias until he later found out that Mary Price had bid under her maiden name, her married name being Mary Donleavy. The other woman, Phyllis MacArdle was Donleavy's secretary. Girodias was crushed. Donleavy, who now controlled Olympia Press, had exacted his revenge on his sworn enemy.

DEBACLE

Even now this debacle still rankles with Donleavy. As recently as 1993, when I asked him to sign my first edition of The Ginger Man which he was please to do, he gave it a wry smile and said, "What a strange little book".

The Ginger Man was to attract yet more controversy when Donleavy's own adaptation was staged at the Gaiety Theatre, Dublin, in October 1959. After the first performance, the owner of the theatre, under pressure from the Archbishop of Dublin, demanded the cuts be made to the play. One of the cuts concerned a reference to 'a special church on the Quays', which had been totally misinterpreted by the Catholic authorities. However, the power of the church was such that the play was taken off after three performances. When published, Donleavy prefaced the play with a sardonic account of its closure in Ireland, which gives the book its rather unusual title: What They Did in Dublin with The Ginger Man: A Play (1961) [Compendium note: This title should be broken thus: What They Did in Dublin (break) with (as in 'also including' The Ginger Man: A Play]. This book now sells for £25-£30 in Fine condition with the jacket.

Donleavy's second novel did not appear until 1964. Less anarchic than The Ginger Man and more melancholic. A Singular Man is another richly comic book, its protagonist, George Smith, involved in an unending struggle with the absurdities of the world. Donleavy once said that, of all his novels, this was the one with which he was the most satisfied.

First editions of The [sic] Singular Man [A Singular Man] currently sell for £35 - £50 (Fine with dustjacket).

Although publication was not the ordeal of The Ginger Man, it was still not without incident. After contracting to publish A Singular Man, the American firm, Little Brown, wanted to withdraw for fear of prosecution for obscenity. This related to the section of the book where George Smith makes his 'Last Will and Testicle'. But Donleavy had been here before and immediately cabled Little Brown that he would sue them for $365, 000.65. Baffled by the precise amount claimed, and believing that he had discovered some obscure legal precedent, the capitulated and went ahead with publication.

Donleavy further explored his favourite themes of death, loneliness and sadness in his next book, the novella, The Saddest Summer of Samuel S (1967), and the following three novels: The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B (1969), The Onion Eaters (19710, and A Fairy Tale of New York (1973). Of course, all were leavened with rich, dark humor and a variety of memorable and colourful characters. All of these books sell for around £25 in Fine condition with the dustjackets.

Throughout Donleavy's novels there can be found a regard for manners and correct behaviour, and the hope - although somewhat ironically in Dangerfield's case - that this will bring financial and social success. So it is not surprising that this should be the subject of his first non-fiction book, The Unexpurgated Code: A Complete Manual of Survival and Manners (1975). An essential guide for social climbers, it has short sections on how to behave 'At the Funeral', what to do 'Upon Confronting a Burglar' and the etiquette of 'Dying'. In refreshing bad taste, and now probably politically incorrect, this book now sells for up to £25 in Fine condition with the jacket. [Compendium note: obviously, all these value pricings are out of date, but The Unexpurgated Code value has gone through the roof, a so-so copy of the UK Wildwood first edition going for over $700]

Some of Donleavy's best writing is about Ireland, his adopted country. His reminiscences of Dublin in the late 1940s, from his arrival in Ireland, his entry into Trinity College, the characters he met and his beginnings as a writer, are evocatively detailed in Ireland: In All of Her Sins and Some of Her Graces (1986). Donleavy's ability to capture the mood and idiosyncrasies of that 'Land of Saints and Scholars' are further demonstrated in his personal view of Ireland, A Singular Country (1989). Both these books are now valued at £20 - £25 in Fine condition with the jackets.

In 1994, Donleavy published the first part of his autobiography, The History of The Ginger Man, which, as the title suggests, records the publishing history of his most famous novel. It also contains the further adventures of Donleavy and Gainor Crist. An essential book for all lovers of The Ginger Man, copies in Fine condition with the dustjacket are now valued at £20 - £25.

Donleavy is a prolific author and continues to write novels - The Lady Who Liked Clean Rest Rooms (1997), Wrong Information is Being Given Out at Princeton (1998) - as well as working on the second volume of his autobiography.

Although described by some as passé, Donleavy retains a wide readership thanks to his lyrical style, black humour, colourful characterisation, and a sense that he is saying something fundamental about the human condition. This is particularly true in the United States, where there is a strong demand for his books. In addition, he has written one great novel, The Ginger Man which is now considered a contemporary classic and has never been out of print.

It is regrettable that the much-discussed and long-awaited film of the book has never reached the cinema. If ever a novel had the potential to make a great film, it is The Ginger Man. However, there is ample consolation in the new signed, limited-edition audio book of the novel. Unabridged and running to nine cassettes, this is expressively read by Donleavy himself.

While the trendsetters and developers have moved into Dublin, submerging many of Donleavy's old haunts, we still have The Ginger Man to take us back for a poignant glimpse of Dublin in those rare ould times. "Sláinte!" Donleavy.

To purchase books by J.P. Donleavy, go to the Buyers' Guide.