Turlough was Keenan's shadow companion in captivity. But the author shuns the connection, choosing instead to attempt only a fictional biography of the famous bard. No matter how much Keenan borrows from the historical record--smallpox, blindness, fame, death, and legend--his Turlough remains a figment of a captive's imagination. The book has a single focus; all characters play audience to the harpist. And the reader is confined within a single stream of consciousness. "An Evil Cradling" now has its Janus-like bookends: "Between Extremes," facing a positive future and "Turlough," examining a troubled past.
True to Keenan's talent, there are passages rich enough to transport the reader to a specific time and place. You are on that pilgrimage or inside that hovel, inn, or garden. Less entertaining and more intrusive are patches of self-conscious dialogue, lectures, and gossipy letters. Much of this is reminiscent of those early interviews with and reports about the newly-released hostage. What pertains to the historic 17th century figure comes off as a masque.
Interestingly enough, there was another blind harpist of the same period who turns up in the two-volume biography of Carolan by Donal O'Sullivan. His name was John Keenan. And perhaps the source of Brian Keenan's compelling mental image is a different manifestation of paternal protection.