Minor Monuments by Ian Maleney

This aptly-named debut from Ian Maleney flits between several themes – homecoming, family, shelter, Ireland, houses, ceremonies, music, cities, countryside – made all the more resonant for their relation to the main theme of loss, and the ways in which they link to the author's own story. Uniquely related and yet all too familiar in terms of subject matter, each essay ties to the various stages of his grandfather's dementia and the ways in which it affects the family. 

Those looking for a straightforward story, in which catharsis is reached through simple poignancy or a purely chronological narration of tragedies, will find themselves restless because this is not one person's story, nor is it really a story so much as disjointed fragments of a far wider picture. Minor Monuments finds its resting place most of all in the understated music around us – the unspoken, the often misremembered, the silent. The author's voice, too, is of the quiet, understated sort, winning our sympathy without sparing its owner from his own truths – an admirable touch in itself.

While the tangential bent of his narrative could be considered a little ponderous on occasion, its refusal to tread too firmly fits the wide-ranging nature of the threads which all serve to weave the greater web. This is a beautiful essay collection in the style of a true yarn-spinner; not the tall story told by uncles, but the kind you might tell in a roundabout sort of way on a long walk. Somehow, we feel Maleney would not disapprove too much of the analogy.

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Tramp Press, 28 Mar, £12.99