For Culture Night 2025, Guest Editor Belinda McKeon has curated a number of works from emerging creative talents of note - read an extract from Longford author Patrick Doherty's forthcoming novel Pure Innocent Boy below.
Tadhg Kelly suffered a mental breakdown after his mother died. Now he is trying to find his way in a world where he no longer fits. He gets a job in the local toy shop and seems, on the surface, to be finding stability. But in truth he is drifting, and it is only a matter of time before he crashes again...
Interspersing Tadhg's diary entries with first-person accounts by his brother Damien and Damien's wife Eileen, Pure Innocent Boy is a poignant, aching character study about masculinity, mental health and grief that slowly builds in power, while also offering a state of the nation view of Ireland as seen from the bottom of society.
6 September 2018
I didn't wake up until eleven today. I was wrecked. I don’t know why. I needed to get into town again but Dad was gone with heifers to the mart. I would have helped him loading them up if he’d asked, but he’d managed on his own by the looks of things. I texted Damien about getting in the next day, then I made myself a cup of tea and a sandwich seeing as it was nearly lunchtime.
It was three o’clock when I realised that I hadn’t taken my Lexapro. I was about to go and take it but then I had a thought. I knew I wasn’t supposed to drink while I was on it, so I figured I’d take a day off and go down to Fox’s for a pint in the evening.
I feel weird about taking them anyway; don’t get how a tablet can pluck a bad thought right out of your head. I used to get awful sad when I’d think about Mam, but now with the tablets I think about her less, and when I do, I don’t get as sad. I know it’s for the best and all that, but there’s something not right about it at the same time.
On my way to the pub I bumped into the English couple again. I said hello and patted Chomsky on the head. I asked them how the flower shop was going and the man said it was going well. I told them my name was Tadhg and they said they were called Frank and Emma. Emma’s father was from Longford. She used to visit a lot as a child and had always wanted to settle here. They said they were building a house in Ardagh and were hoping to move in before Christmas. I told them it was a nice spot, Ardagh, and that it had won the Tidy Towns competition a rake of times.
Just as they were leaving I spotted a few of those popping flowers on the ditch and thought to ask them what they were called. I reached into the ditch and grabbed a handful and ran back after them. I showed them how to make the flowers go pop. Frank said he had seen them before but couldn’t remember the exact name. He took one off me and said he’d have a proper look at it when he got home.
When I got to the pub there were only a few in. John Buckley and Tom Coyle were chatting quietly in the corner. They said hello and left it at that. I wasn’t sure if people knew that I’d been in hospital. I’d meant to ask Damien about that. Doctor Woods said it was nothing to be ashamed of, but still, I don’t like the thought of people knowing.
I ordered a pint of Budweiser and went up to the pool table to play a frame on my own. Halfway through, a few young lads came in and looked up at the table. I took another euro out and put it down so they’d have to beat me to get on. The only one I recognised was David Hegarty. I was surprised to see a footballer out drinking in the middle of the season.
'Should you not be off the drink for the championship?’ I asked him.
‘I’m not playing the year,’ he said.
‘Jaysus!’ I said, ‘Why not?’
‘Never you mind,’ he said.
Some of the young footballers can be awful sour betimes. Most of them are sound but there are a few who have an attitude about them, a way of looking at you like you’re a bad smell.
‘Are you near finished there, Tadhg?’ he said.
‘I have me euro down. If ye want to play, ye’ll have to beat me.’
He rolled his eyes and took a cue down off the rack. ‘I’m presuming you won the last game, so I’ll break,’ he said.
I felt my face go red. I really wanted to win. The balls scattered everywhere from the break but nothing went in. I spotted one of the stripes hanging round the middle pocket and sliced it in handily enough. Then I tried a longer shot but got the angle wrong and left a rake of shots open for him.
‘Do you reckon we’ll win the championship this year?’ I asked him, just to say something.
‘You’re the expert,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’
The spell away meant I’d missed most of the games, so I couldn’t say one way or the other.
‘We’ll be a tough team to beat,’ I said.
‘You didn’t think of togging out yourself?’ One of the other lads said. They all laughed at that one. Comedians.
I’d had enough at that point and decided to give them a piece of my mind. ‘I won an Intermediate championship in 2004. Then I did me cruciate ligament. If it hadn’t been for that, I’d have had as good a chance as anyone of making that 2012 team. I have as much of a right to talk about football as anyone else. So you can shut the f**k up.’
The lads went quiet. John Buckley and Tom Coyle stopped talking for a moment to see what was going on. I crouched over the table for my next shot and missed a sitter. I was on the verge of losing me head and couldn’t concentrate. Hegarty potted another three. He had only two left to pot, while I had six. I had given up all hope of winning when the eejit overhit his shot and sent the black into the top right-hand corner. You should have seen the face on him. He looked like a dog that had swallowed a wasp.
‘Here, lads,’ I said to them, ‘ye can play away. I may as well quit while I’m ahead.
Pure Innocent Boy will be published by Dedalus Books on November 7th 2025
