Sinéad Gleeson

There isn't the same kind of alcoholism.

There isn't a lot of the kind of things that we saw in Irish stories for a long time.

So to me, I feel that they're very much aligned to Joyce.

And I think I mentioned the kind of psychogeography and the flanusing aspect of them, which is the New York stuff.

But for me, I think there's a there's a the Joyce had the epiphanies and Brennan had what you call moments of recognition.

And I think that those are the two things that draw people to both of those writers works.

And it is exactly as you say, there's something timeless.

It doesn't matter if she's writing about, you know, 30s Dublin or 50s New York.

It doesn't feel like that to me.

It doesn't feel old.

It feels very, very fresh because what she's talking about is the interiority of people's lives, of families, of family dramas, of homes.

And even when she's writing, and it's possibly one of the reasons the work doesn't get often get picked up when she's writing about sofas or carpets.

And those kind of like, you know, domestic MacGuffins, because that's what they are talking about.

You know, a house, a room that has one has lino and one has carpet, one is heated by gas.

It's about those kind of brutal hierarchies that go on in families.

The Durden's been a case in point, a kind of very toxic relationship and family.

So I think the fact that she's able to burrow into those things that never go away, the dysfunctional horribleness of breaking down relationships, of families, of feeling trapped, of feeling your life didn't turn out the way you wanted it to.

All those things are timeless.

And I think that's what she does so well.

It doesn't matter that they're in a small house in Dublin.