The only awkward thing about Jamie O'Neill's novel is its (admittedly apposite) title which quotes from Flann O'Brien's At Swim-Two-Birds.
The novel is a magical evocation of Irish social history interwoven with the secret lives and loves of all of its characters - not simply the two boys of the title. O'Neill's ear for dialogue; the sureness of his prose and the eloquence (but never prudishness) with with he deals with love and sexuality are truly awe-inspiring.
While it is deserved and uplifting that At Swim, Two Boys has not been relagated as a 'gay novel', this is not - for all that has been said - a history of the Easter 1916 which provides a part of the backdrop, nor does it reimagine Irish history - but that I trust was never its intent, nor does it diminish this wonderful novel one whit.
Equally, facile comparisons to Joyce and Flann O'Brien, however flattering are hardly appropriate. O'neill's language moves from the lapidary to the sublime, his coinage is sometimes fabulous, always arresting, but his work in not obsessed with language but with characters, and his language reflects their dreams, their aspirations, their follies and their insecurities. This is not a modernist novel in the Joycean sense, densely allusive, abstruse and all encompassing, but a more traditional novel shot through with briliiance, empathy, honesty and courage which - if it does not redefine Irish history, changes the face of Irish literature.