By Louise Doyle

EVERY page of Dark Cloud over Muckish pulls you in closer, to a intriguing weave of family tensions, loyalty, humour and loss.

The story, part auto fiction, is written by Glaswegian Paul O’Donaghue, and begins as the narrator returns to the rural hills of Donegal of his childhood past for the funeral of his mother.

The story moves in its own pace, but is filled with atmospheric tension of what is to come, as the opening page eludes to: “The rain is lashing down, forcing me to switch my windscreen wipers to a faster speed. By the time I cross the border into Donegal, I’m driving through a tsunami and struggling to see anything on the road ahead.

“As the kilometres to Mullaghbeg count down and the landmarks become ever more familiar, a deep sadness wells up inside me, and my eyes load with tears. By the time I’ve reached the winding brae that leads into the village and glimpsed the white waves of its coastline, still visible through the gloom, the sadness has gripped me in its vice like hold, and the tears are cascading down my cheeks.”

When the narrator ends up in lockdown upon arrival to the small village of Mullaghbeg, he isn’t at first worried because he’s back in his rugged home place on the Atlantic coastline, in a place filled with familiarity and childhood memories.

We learn in the opening pages that the narrator’s mother passed away in a nursing home having succumbed to the grip of Covid-19. “When I first learned of the Covid outbreak in the nursing home, I tried to convince myself that we shouldn’t be worried. After all, my mum was a tough old cookie, and her immune system was good, considering her age. It was going to take a damn sight more than a pandemic to see her off. And besides, the staff were conscientious. They would realise their responsibilities and would take the necessary precautions to ensure the virus didn’t spread. Even when I got the phone call to say she’d tested positive, I still didn’t believe that it would be the end.

“However, as the daily bulletins on her condition grew increasingly more pessimistic, and it became clear her desperate attempts to cling to life were fading, even I was forced to accept that, sadly, it was indeed the end. The fact that Covid restrictions had deprived her of dying with friends and family around her only made it all the harder to bear.”

As the narrator tries to settle back into the village where he grew up, it becomes clear that with the isolation of lockdown, his thoughts become filled with themes of family and grief.

While he is surrounded by his childhood idyllic home place, what emerges is a more stormy realisation that can come when returning home after many years away from all that was familiar.

Dark Could Over Muckish published by Anchor House Press. Ebook (£4.99 or euro equivalent) now available from Amazon.co.uk, Apple, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo Paperback (£10.99 or euro equivalent) available from Amazon by 30th June. If you’re short of space you can omit Apple etc. I’ve put 30th down for the paperback but I’m hoping it may be available earlier.