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For those who like to discuss while reading, we'll roughly try to discuss about 100 pages per week, which should leave the last week mostly for discussing the whole book (others may jump ahead to the whole book discussion).

Let's spend the next couple of days discussing Section 1. First impressions? Things that caught your eye/ear? What did you make of the narrative voice? Is it a style/rhythm you easily meshed with or one that's taking some time for you to feel at ease?

I didn't expect to like this book because of the setting, Northern Ireland during the violence, but I was taken by surprise. I liked it from the opening sentence, which definitely got me hooked. Now who was holding that gun to her heart if the creepy milkman was dead? Definitely an engaging read.

It is interesting too the way none of the characters have regular names, which includes the narrator, who speaks from the first person. Highly relatable, as they say today.

The lack of names is intentional, and helps to make the very specific situation Burns is writing about (Catholic Belfast in the late 70s) more universal. Some of these references are easily decoded by those who know Northern Ireland and remember the Troubles there. I will admit that I struggled a little in the early part of the book, and only started loving it once I picked up on the black humour and exaggeration. It helps to think of the whole thing as a monologue in colloquial speech.

I actually enjoyed the lack of names and the writing style in general.

I couldn't stand this book when I first read it. That Somebody McSomebody nonsense drove me crazy. Since it has won an award, and so many people like it, I'm giving it a second chance.

Elaine, It really is a rather gripping/dramatic beginning. Not only is violence introduced on the first page, but we know immediately that this "milkman" has been killed.

Like Irene, I also enjoyed the lack of names and writing style. Language becomes an integral part of the story from the start.

In addition to making the specific general, the lack of names puts the focus on the social roles and relationships. Seems to set the ground for what is known/expected about any particular person...

"In those days, in that place, violence was everybody's main gauge for judging those around them..."

"I didn't know whose milkman he was. He wasn't our milkman. I don't think he was anybody's. He didn't take milk orders. There was no milk about him. He didn't even deliver milk. Also, he didn't drive a milk lorry."

"This was certain girls not being tolerated if it was deemed they did not defer to males, did not acknowledge the superiority of males, might even go so far as almost to contradict males, basically, the female wayward, a species insolent and far too sure of herself."

Erin, I'm not surprised this book was divisive for readers--it has such a strong narrative voice and style that if a reader doesn't take to that, then getting through the book would be torture.

... and it highlights the abnormality and absurdity of certain social norms that were actually taken for granted in Belfast!

It's weird to admit this now, but when I started reading the book, I didn't know it was about Northern Ireland. I was taken by the narrative, but confused a lot. I was liking it for the unique voice and nameless characters and mystery of the milkman, but wasn't sure what it was "about." When I finally looked it up, it was like a gut punch that made me appreciate what I'd read so much more.

I have a weird habit of starting books without any context, and then needing to look up the book blurbs later to understand what I'm reading about.

I think the start - the first sentence sets the tone of the book immediately: tragic comic absurdly real.

I was happy that I took to the writing style and lack of names right away. To me, the writing style made the story feel removed, as if it is being told at arm's length. It seems as if the narrator is trying to distance herself from the events and emotions of the story. Also, I do remember reading in one of Anna Burns' interviews about her need to feel removed enough from a story in order to tell it.

I'm going to reread with y'all b/c I really loved this book. (I read the library copy, then I immediately ordered my own copy to have handy, so I could reread it.)

My dad is from Northern Ireland, though a county over from the area of Belfast she's in. Also from a Catholic neighborhood. Reading this insular community's ways in Milkman helped me see the way my mother's experience as a black american was very much like my father's as an Irish Catholic in what he only refers to as "the six counties."

Both are worlds where it's worse to go against your own community than it is to do many other horrid things. I think the voice of our narrator is perfectly snarky and serious to convey that sentiment and what she thinks of it. And so pitch perfectly. I found the book impossible to put down when I read it.

Bretnie wrote: "I have a weird habit of starting books without any context..."

I like to do that too, but Milkman already won the Booker prize and generated a lot of buzz by the time I got to it, so I knew the context.

I knew almost nothing about the book when I started reading it the day after the Booker longlist was announced last year, so I read it without preconceptions. I will plead guilty to spreading the word here!

I came to understand that the absence of proper names is the result of names also having become politicized. The wrong name would associate you with being English, from "over the water," or of being the wrong religion.

The scene at "maybe-boyfriend's" house exemplifies this well. The piece of the Bentley with a flag on it becomes potentially lethal. The flag of course would be British. I liked the dark humour of calling the car piece the "supercharger." In this politicized environment, everything becomes supercharged.

Later, the narrator mentions having a good friend names Jason. This is one of the banned names, so I imagine the connection makes the narrator suspicious.

It was awful when the narrator's mother did not believe her regarding the milkman. I was reminded of how bitter and hard people become in these circumstances. The narrator makes it very clear that it is dangerous to let one's guard down -- even with one's mother.

For this reason, the narrator is chastised by her brother-in-law for reading while walking, a rather odd thing to do. Anyone care to comment on her reading Walter Scott?

We had a discussion on reading while walking over in the Mookse and the Gripes group last year, and a surprising number of us admitted to having done it! Just a matter of knowing how quiet the road is and how long it is since you last glanced up.

I agree that the mother refusing to believe the narrator was shocking.

Elaine, the second section goes into that elaborate list of acceptable names--the politicization of names, as you mentioned. Names, it would seem, are actually a liability in this environment.

These days, many people walk with their faces focussed on their smartphones, but in the '70s it must have been rare to see anyone walking with their heads buried in anything.

First impressions of this "reading-while-walking"? And let me echo Elaine's question: what of the choice to read Walter Scott and/or literature from previous centuries?

Now that you mention it, I can't recall anything about her covering that book's cover or author. I'm very ignorant as to what Scottish books/people/stuff might signify. Was he a "safe" read? What about his title - clearly he was OK with the English being "in Scotland" where the Republican cause in N Ireland was not. People who know stuff want to help me out with that one?

Marc wrote: "First impressions of this "reading-while-walking"?"

It stood out to me that it wasn't just that she was odd for reading-while-walking, but dangerous. Is it a metaphor for her trying to mentally escape from the violence by reading? Was reading-while-walking perceived to be something political, like not choosing sides, or ignoring the violence around her?

Elaine wrote: "It was awful when the narrator's mother did not believe her regarding the milkman. I was reminded of how bitter and hard people become in these circumstances. The narrator makes it very clear that it is dangerous to let one's guard down -- even with one's mother."

This was pretty powerful for me. Not just her mother, but society as a whole found it easier to not believe her rather than deal with the dangers the milkman posed. It was challenging to read this since it still feels so relevant today, but it really made me appreciate the book.

Reading while walking is used to illustrate the lack of tolerance for non-conformity and individuality of the society Burns describes, as is the brilliant scene in which the class discuss the colour of a sunset sky...

Hugh wrote: "Reading while walking is used to illustrate the lack of tolerance for non-conformity and individuality of the society Burns describes, as is the brilliant scene in which the class discuss the colou..."

Ah, thank you Hugh!

Hugh wrote: "as is the brilliant scene in which the class discuss the colour of a sunset sky... ..."

I loved that scene

I've read ahead and there are other books mentioned. They resonate with the scene that is unfolding. I suppose reading Scott could be perceived as being aligned with the Brits. Our poor narrator is getting it from all sides. One could hardly imagine a more difficult position for an eighteen year old to be in, but she does manage to find ways of tuning out. I imagine reading, in part, fills this role. Books are a form of refuge, at least they have been for me.

I almost wanted to characterize living in that environment as a type of gaslighting. And the reading while walking as a type of defense--a kind of renouncing of the present and everyone in it.

Apparently, I underlined this passage (but not while walking, although I did read parts of this book while walking in DC, but the surveillance there is mostly silent, so no clicks disturbed me and we use white vans for snipers and general contractors, not milkmen)...

I knew that by reading while I walked I was losing touch in a crucial sense with communal up-to-dateness and that that, indeed, was risky. It was important to be in the know, to keep up with, especially when things got added on to at such a rapid compound rate. On the other hand, being up on, having awareness, clocking everything---both of rumour and of actuality---didn't prevent things from happening or allow for intervention on, or reversal of things that had already happened. Knowledge didn't guarantee power, safety and relief---leaving no outlet for dispersal either, of all the heightened stimuli that had been built by being up on in the the first place. Purposely not wanting to know therefore, was exactly what my reading-while-walking was about. It was a vigilance not to be vigilant, and my return to exercising with brother-in-law, that too, was part of my vigilance.

Walter Scott - there's a lot to dig into there, potentially:
- Scotland is another Celtic country and seen as a colony of the English, although the violence is longer ago. It's pretty common for Scots, Irish and Welsh to back each other's sports teams against the English.
- However there is a more tangible link with Protestants. The 'plantation of Ulster' with Protestant colonists from Scotland was one of the foundations of the troubles. I think that being called Burns (i.e. like the Scottish national[ist] poet Rabbie Burns) and being an Irish Catholic would make one think quite a lot about Irish-Scottish links.
- Walter Scott was one of the originators of British, as well as Scottish, romantic nationalism, with his historical novels and popularisation of kilts. Ivanhoe is on the British/English rather than the Scottish side as the Victorian interest in medieval knights, gothic revival, pre-Raphaelites etc, which Scott had a significant role in kickstarting, was a British romantic-nationalist thing (one that would be seen as English from the POV of the other British nations). Ivanhoe the hero is a Saxon under Norman rule - more occupation/colonialism; as Britain has not been conquered since then, the current ruling classes can be presented rhetorically as descendants of Normans.
- More prosaically: people seem to notice Walter Scott as an unlikely read in Milkman, but the setting is 40 years ago, and he did used to be more fashionable - a bit longer ago, maybe in the 1950s. But she does get most of her books from second hand shops, and the idea of him as a commonly-read classic author would seem more current in the late 70s, as stuff from the 90s lingers now.

Antonomasia wrote: "Walter Scott - there's a lot to dig into there, potentially:
- Scotland is another Celtic country and seen as a colony of the English, although the violence is longer ago. It's pretty common for Sc..."


Thanks Anto,

I'd wanted to take that leap on my own, at least the first few points you make, but I had no good evidence to support my hypothesis.

I can see her wanting to both escape the "now" of the book and eventually escape all together from this situation, and one of the ways to do that is become well-read. If second-hand books are the way you can do that, then you take what you can find and pick the best of the offerings, right? So in some way she made that choice, and she purposely told us about it.

I think this is true of all the books mentioned, and maybe I'll take another stroll through to see those books and how they might fit together (or not.) I was wondering if it was sort of a way to silently protest the prevailing wisdom. Thanks again - loads to think about there.

Hugh wrote: "... and it highlights the abnormality and absurdity of certain social norms that were actually taken for granted in Belfast!

I will admit that I struggled a little in the early part of the book, and only started loving it once I picked up on the black humour and exaggeration. It helps to think of the whole thing as a monologue in colloquial speech. "

Thanks Hugh. I'm reading it again looking for the black humor and considering it a monologue. Maybe then I can enjoy it without getting irritated by the lack of names.

Hugh wrote: "Reading while walking is used to illustrate the lack of tolerance for non-conformity and individuality of the society Burns describes, as is the brilliant scene in which the class discuss the colou..."

OMG I absolutely loved that she walked while reading. To me, this highlighted that she didn't give a damn what anyone thought and she would stay in her own world, despite the Troubles. I viewed this the same as if I saw a girl with the sides of her head shaved sporting a rainbow-colored Mohawk walking in front of the Republican headquarters in Texas.

Many times, yesterday in fact, I risked my neck walking up and down the stairs in my house while reading a book. Sadly, I don't think it made my family think I was a unique individual flaunting society's stupid rules.

Antonomasia wrote: "Walter Scott - there's a lot to dig into there, potentially:
- Scotland is another Celtic country and seen as a colony of the English, although the violence is longer ago. It's pretty common for Sc..."

Thank you for all the information, Antonomasia. There is indeed a lot there to unpact. As I read on, it seems that Scott's novel, Ivanhoe, is of particular significance. It is also the first one mentioned. In view of what you say, reading Scott would definitely put our narrator on the wrong side, but there is a certain irony here as not many in her neighourhood would understand the significance of Scott, especially as an originator of British national romanticism. As we learn in the French class, the perspective here is extremely limited. On a more personal level, it seems that the narrator's reading in public while walking is not so much a political act, a choosing of sides, but one of defiance, of signaling her determination not to participate in the madness. Yet this act also takes on political significance.

Has anyone read any other novel's by Burns?

Ella wrote: "Reading this insular community's ways in Milkman helped me see the way my mother's experience as a black american was very much like my father's as an Irish Catholic,..."

Such an interesting thought. I am reminded of Miriam Toews work, particularly her novel A Complicated Kindness. The control of the individual through gossip, religion, and shame.

This concept of "control of the individual" seems to be unfolding on a number of different levels in this book. Aside from the over-riding political/state control, what type of gender/social/individual expectations do you see shaping the lives of these characters (e.g., even our narrator seems uncomfortable with Maybe-Boyfriend's non-stereotypical male interests like sunsets and cooking)?

How does our narrator's situation change in Section 3?

Somewhat peripherally related, but I came across this series of interactive maps showing where republicans and democrats live in U.S. cities:

Even during peaceful times, certain ideologies might dominate geography/neighborhoods (meaning you might not fly a rainbow flag if all your neighbors are hardcore conservatives or one might not put Republican bumper stickers on a car in a highly liberal area). Nevermind your own family pressuring you to marry or have children...

I live in Montreal, Quebec, where today is St. Jean Baptiste Day, popularly know as Fete National. There are blue flags everywhere, so today is definitely not the day to bring out your Canadian flag -- save that for next Monday, which is Canada Day. Even so, there will not be nearly as many flying. I can relate the troubles in Northern Ireland to the the trouble here in the 1970s, when we had Canada post mailboxes exploding quite regularly and then the October Crisis, when the War Measures Act was invoked. Still the troubles here were not nearly as bad as in Ireland. The extent of the violence and the way this issue of control of the individual permeates The Milkman takes things to another level. I am reading it on Kindle, so am not exactly sure where each section begins or ends. Moreover, I have finished it as I was so taken by the writing.

I think the reference to the Nazis in the middle of the novel highly relevant. The excesses of control really do bring to mind the fascist mentality that is operating, so I think the allusion is significant. I would also suggest that the issues Burns addresses are once again coming into play. It is the dark, destructive side of nationalism and does not bode well.

The issue of gender control also resonates powerfully. The narrator's mother's rants on the role of women speaks loudly on this issue. The homophobia and misogyny are linked, as being gay speaks of feminization, as suggested by the role of cook. It is a domestic/subservient position. Cars on the other hand speak of a stronger masculine identity. Interesting, too, how the female bashing features amongst the women, especially the younger ones. One of the things I find so remarkable about this novel, is the sense of complete isolation that Burns manages to convey despite the character mingling with others. There is really no one this eighteen year old can reach out to. Even her maybe-relationship with maybe-boyfriend has pronounced limitations.

Elaine wrote: "One of the things I find so remarkable about this novel, is the sense of complete isolation that Burns manages to convey despite the character mingling with others. There is really no one this eighteen year old can reach out to. Even her maybe-relationship with maybe-boyfriend has pronounced limitations. "

This is such a great way of putting it. Life is hard enough with strangers harassing you and judging you and labeling you as dangerous, but your family and friends also? Oof.

I don't know if we are there in the discussion yet, but I found the feminists both hilarious and scary. They are considered very dangerous for what feels like such obvious arguments. It's easy to think of this as being limited to the book's time and place, but it also feels so relevant now.

Elaine, that sense of isolation seems overwhelming. It's already been mentioned earlier in the thread about her mother not believing her when she tells her the truth, but that scene stuck with me throughout. If your own family won't believe you, what's the point in even speaking?!!

Feminism plays a really fascinating role in this book:

The normal women had been expecting, indeed dreading, that the issue women, once started, would take the exposure opportunity to harp on in a broad, encyclopedic fashion about injustice towards and trespasses against women, not just in the present day but all through the ages, using terminology such as 'terminology', 'case studies show', 'incorporates the systemic, trans historic, institutionalized and legislated antipathy of' and so on that completely these days these women appeared to be steeped in.

On top of the historical complaints, they are maligned for complaining about being hit on, physically hit, felt up, and every other manner of daily disrespect and assault.

A question that recently came to me: Do Wee Sisters represent any sort of potentially brighter future for women (given their intense curiosity, confidence, and penchant for 20th century lit)?

The wee sisters reminded me of the two boys in Toni Morrison's Sula, who are always together and do not grow, in more ways than one -- actually in all ways. So I don't have such a positive view of the wee sisters, who seem quite "normal," as our narrator puts it. I do think the feminists show promise, though. When she comments on the normal women's view of feminists, she also uses the term "terminology," which she says is one of the words they use, so I take it that this is a sly way of suggesting she is in line with their views.

I was just thinking this morning that Wee Sisters almost seem like a single entity... Cerberus as a puppy first came to mind, but I think the two boys from Sula is a much more apt comparison! How would you describe your view of the Wee Sisters?

There does indeed seem to be a nudge-nudge-wink-wink aspect of the criticism of the feminists. It's like their issues get lost in the language and the language brings unwanted attention/association by the "normal" women.

As Bretnie stated, all this feels quite relevant for today's world: women's rights, control of the individual, violence, and how we use language (nicknames, especially defining a person by a single trait/action like tablets girl, nuclear boy, etc.).

I, like our narrator, felt a huge relief when real milkman pulls up. Then we hear his story. Then he suggests that our narrator could perhaps help save the wee sisters from "dangerous ends". That she might get help with this from the "issue women" for ways and means help wee sisters. Then we have several pages explaining the "issue women". Which is as far as I have read.

This narrative process is a new one for me. "Flashbacks" is a most inadequate term to describe it. The term "spiral back" does come to mind. When I can find time to get into it, into the flow, I do enjoy it, but struggle a bit most times because I have been busy with house guests and can only find 10 minutes here and there to focus. I am hoping to have more time for continuity in the second half. The paragraphs do seem very long, though.

The constant threat of violence is debilitating. I don't think the tone for the issue women is snide. I think it is trying to show how truly powerless and nonthreatening their gatherings and conversations are. The response of the paramilitary:

In the eyes of the community, and especially in the eyes of the paramilitaries, this eighth woman was an enemy out to entrap into informership our seven naïve and dotty women. So one Wednesday night-time the renouncers burst into the shed to take her away. They barged in � in Halloween masks, balaclavas, with guns, with a few secure enough in power and stature to eschew any type of facial covering...

When they burst in, it is a group of women having tea. Ten years ago, we spent 3 weeks in Ireland, and I had no desire to go into Northern Ireland. Some in our group wanted to visit, and we took a Black Cab tour of the wrong side of the wall in Belfast. The gun in the mural is always pointed at you, no matter where you stand.

Ginny wrote: "The constant threat of violence is debilitating. I don't think the tone for the issue women is snide. I think it is trying to show how truly powerless and nonthreatening their gatherings and conver..."

I thought the same thing, Ginny. Throughout, the members of the paramilitaries are shown as using their standing to act as bullies; to use the current term, they are the personification of toxic masculinity. They use the excuse of political rectitude to threaten (with extreme violence) even the minimal act of rebellion (ironic) of women having tea and discussing women's issues. Milkman, and more incompetently, Somebody McSomebody, use politics as a shield to stalk and terrify women they want. There are plenty of other examples, such as the murder of the dogs and the neighbor of Maybe Boyfriend politicizing something as innocuous as a car part.

From the Irish Times: "... the stroke of genius contained in the book’s very title, an in-joke that is never made explicit, though it is clear in Burns’s previous work No Bones: the IRA delivered petrol bombs in milk-crates to doors at the corner of each street. The narrator of Milkman refuses to credit her harasser with this origin for his moniker."

Wanted to drop this in the thread before I forgot. Will post more tonight. Happy 4th to those celebrating!

Marc wrote: "From the Irish Times: "... the stroke of genius contained in the book’s very title, an in-joke that is never made explicit, though it is clear in Burns’s previous work No Bones: the IRA delivered p..."

Thanks so much for this. In her first description of milkman, she is practicing her jamais vu; her deliberate amnesia. "I didn’t know whose milkman he was. He wasn’t our milkman. [..] There was no milk about him." This on page 2.

Marc wrote: "From the Irish Times: "... the stroke of genius contained in the book’s very title, an in-joke that is never made explicit, though it is clear in Burns’s previous work No Bones: the IRA delivered p..."

WOAH!

Ginny, that image is amazing and disturbing! Can't say I blame you for not wanting to go into Northern Ireland at the time.

There is this kind of absurdity where the politics play into everything--8 women become a threat, "Semtex [plastic explosive] taking precedence as something normal over reading-while-walking," etc.

The only book our narrator has taken from her by the state forces as she reads and walks is Dicken's Martin Chuzzlewit, which, apparently has a theme of selfishness portrayed in satirical fashion (not a popular title for Dickens, but one he thought was his best). Nudge-nudge. Wink-wink.