Kerry Dwyer's Ramblings in Ireland, is aptly titled for that is exactly what the story is about, the ramblings through a country with present descriptions, of dangerous excursions to a ledge forbidden in fog (which they accidentally journeyed onto), to ill prepared clothing for rain, to a husband's compulsion for the Irish breakfast, the journey as it happened, coupled with the ramblings of times past. The word ramblings in the abstract can connote a pejorative, which would be anything but the case with Dwyer's story, for her writing is endearing and intelligent with a rare gifted ability to make the reader laugh, her asides had me laughing out loud.
Dwyer invites the reader in to her life, the mundane which through her talent are captivating and as the story progresses along you feel as if you're listening to a friend, a good friend, telling you about their vacation, and you get excited that you, for this brief time, have the vicarious pleasure of being let in, to more than just descriptions of the travels in a country, but of a women, her relationship with her family (the incidental mention of her grandfather's assassination in Palestine, her mother's mistaken identity for an Indian, to her husband's ability to pee anywhere, etc.). Her scene description is exceptional; when they go into a dining room you can see the people there, the pink-rinsed grandmothers, grunge clothing, dreadlocks... masterful imagery that brings you there, the detail right down to what she brought with on the trip. As the trip ends the author describes her love for reading and in the author's note she mentions her blog: [...].
When I went to check it out the first thing I noticed was a column at the top titled What is Rambling. There beside her answer is a photo of Freud, a brilliant metaphor for her journey and life, as she so adeptly, and with great humor, portrayed in her ramblings.