The Shaping of Birdy Burnett: A Family Saga Edwardian Dublin

In 1914, the wealth and privilege of leafy suburbs immunize one from the appalling squalour of smelly, overcrowded tenements and grinding poverty north of the River Liffey: an age-old pot of Irish stew that simmers with resentment and discontent.In a Dublin of political and social upheaval, only the security afforded by pedigree and a generous inheritance can guarantee Protestant landowner Birdy Burnett a good night's sleep. In theory, at least. Then as now, we become architects of our own misfortune. The knock-on effect of Birdy's drinking and gambling wreaks havoc on those closest to him: the children's stepmother is unfaithful and very expensive to maintain; his only son and heir thinks Daddy's money can bribe his way to a Trinity law degree.And if that's not depressing enough, daughter Emily displays the feisty, rebellious attitude of one of those cantankerous feminists who demand the right to vote for heaven's sake. Quite intolerable and not at all in keeping with her privileged upbringing. No wonder there's no damn whiskey left in the bloody cellar! Desperate times call for desperate measures. Birdy converts the ruined 'Hellfire Club' on Montpelier Hill into an exclusive casino for well-heeled gamblers, and very soon the Burnett coffers are overflowing once again.Meanwhile, Emily's burning commitment to the freedom of Ireland is a magnet for the handsome but impetuous Sean Murtagh, leader of an I.R.B. brigade in the crosshairs of the psychotic Commissioner of Metropolitan Police. The dream opening of the Hellfire Club becomes Birdy's worst nightmare when Murtagh is caught red-handed as he attempts to assassinate the commissioner. Retribution is swift. The rebels' stash of munitions is soon uncovered, and all are forced to watch as the pristine gentlemen's club goes up in flames.'The Shaping of Birdy Burnett' is often dark and tragic but humour bubbles below the surface, as refreshing and welcome as a glass of decent Prosecco.Sure Jaysus, it wouldn't be Dublin without it, wha'?