“Christmas was coming.” In this Irish town, it is that time of the year in 1985. “Already, a handsome Norway spruce was put standing in the Square beside the manger whose nativity figures that year had been freshly painted.” In Claire Keegan’s universally praised novel, ‘Small Things Like These’ (Faber and Faber), townspeople are all in the celebratory mood, with shopping and cake-making and so on.  

Bill Furlong, our protagonist (played by Cillian Murphy in the exquisite film made on the basis of this novel) is a coal merchant, doing rounds to deliver his goods to a variety of customers including to a convent. He sees there overworked malnourished young women – one of them even requests him to help her escape so that she can go to a river and drown herself. On another occasion, he notices a girl named Sarah locked in an outbuilding, spending the night out in the severe cold.

He realises that the place is in fact a “Magdalene laundry” – one of the countless Christian organisations, named after Mary Magdalene, which existed from the late 18th century till late 20th century. Ostensibly to take care of “fallen women”, young prostitutes or unwed mothers, Magdalene laundries or asylums were known for inhuman exploitation of those who stood little chance of standing up against it.

Almost everybody was aware of what transpired in these places, but no one wanted to do anything about it, given the might of the Church. Unlike most people, Bill is sensitive enough to be affected by what he has seen. His inner voice asks him to do something about it. But he cannot afford to raise his voice against that place. He has to do his business in this town where, as a pub owner tells him, the church is embedded in every aspect of town life. He has to take care of his family – wife and five daughters – too.   

Then there’s a personal angle too: His mother was an unmarried teenager when he was born, and might have ended up in a Magdalene laundry but for someone who let her work as a maid.  

Bill’s crisis of conscience plays out against the backdrop of Christmas. The teachings of Jesus Christ form the unwritten subtext of his inner drama.

It is a drama played out all the time, everywhere. Speaking truth to power. Loving thy neighbour. In Henrik Ibsen’s ‘An Enemy of the People’, Dr. Thomas Stockmann faces the same dilemma when he finds that the spa water is contaminated but everybody wants him to keep quiet for the sake of the town’s economy. In Satyajit Ray’s adaptation of it, ‘Ganashatru’, economy is replaced by religion – which is the case also with this novel. That makes it timely, when hatred in the name of religion is once again rising around the world.

As Tolstoy paraphrased John the Baptist, “What shall we do then?” The answer is not waiting for a revolution, but to begin doing what one can. No more is asked from us but the first, small step.

This beloved novel tells this story in 114 pages of prose marked by great control and precision. Its parable-like telling touches places in the heart that preachy narratives won’t. It can be read in an evening, though its impact will remain fresh for a long time. If you have not read it (or you have but not yet gifted it), this is the ideal season to do so.

Also see:
An excellent ‘reading guide’ and resources, from the Booker Prize people:
https://thebookerprizes.com/the-booker-library/features/reading-guide-small-things-like-these-by-claire-keegan