Nationalité : Irlande
Né(e) à : Dublin , le 8 Mai 1958
Roddy Doyle grandit à Kilbarrack, quartier populaire dans le nord de Dublin. Après des études à l’University College de Dublin, il enseigne la géographie et l’anglais dans une école du nord de Dublin à partir de 1979.
Parallèlement, il écrit son premier roman, The Commitments, l’histoire d’un groupe de dublinois qui décide de former un groupe de musique soul. Le roman, publié en 1987, est salué par la critique. Encouragé par le succès de ce premier roman, Roddy Doyle écrit deux nouveaux tomes, qui compléteront la trilogie de Barrytown : The Snapper (1990) et The Van (1991).
Cette trilogie aura un succès populaire énorme en Irlande et sera adaptée au cinéma par Alan Parker (The Commitments, 1991) et Stephen Frears (The Snapper, 1993 ; The Van, 1996), consacrant mondialement le jeune écrivain irlandais. Cette trilogie, qui relate la saga de la famille Rabbite, famille des quartiers populaires de Dublin, inspirée par la vie personnelle de Roddy Doyle, impose le style Roddy Doyle : un humour corrosif, un style cru, s’appuyant sur la culture orale des quartiers populaires de Dublin.
C’est ce style qui est récompensé en 1993, quand Roddy Doyle reçoit le Booker Prize en 1993 pour le délicieux roman Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha. Roddy Doyle abandonne alors l’enseignement et se consacre entièrement à l’écriture.
Roddy Doyle ne se limite pas à l’écriture de romans. Il écrit également des pièces de théâtre, des nouvelles, des livres pour enfant ou des scenarii de cinéma.
En 2006, parait en France "La femme qui se cognait aux portes", la suite "Paula Spencer" arrive en 2012.
If you're a writer in Dublin and you write a snatch of dialogue, everyone thinks you lifted it from Joyce. The whole idea that he owns language as it is spoken in Dublin is a nonsense. He didn't invent the Dublin accent. It's as if you're encroaching on his area or it's a given that he's on your shoulder. It gets on my nerves.
“-I love yeh, son, said Jimmy Sr.
He could say it and no one could hear him, except young Jimmy, because of the singing and roaring and breaking glasses.
-I think you’re fuckin’ great, said Jimmy Sr.
-Ah fuck off, will yeh, said Jimmy Jr. -Packie saved the fuckin’ penalty, not me.
But he liked what he’d heard, Jimmy Sr could tell that. He gave Jimmy Sr a dig in the stomach.
-You’re not a bad oul’ cunt yourself, he said.”
“Fuck was the best word. The most dangerous word. You couldn't whisper it. Fuck was always too loud, too late to stop it, it burst in the air above you and fell slowly right over your head. There was total silence, nothing but Fuck floating down. For a few seconds you were dead, waiting for Henno to look up and see Fuck landing on top of you. They were thrilling seconds-when he didn't look up. It was a word you couldn't say anywhere. It wouldn't come out unless you pushed it. It made you feel caught and grabbed you the minute you said it. When it escaped it was like an electric laugh, a soundless gasp followed by the kind of laughing only forbidden things could make, an inside tickle that became a brilliant pain, bashing at your mouth to be let out. It was agony. We didn't waste it.”
“He loved me and he beat me. I loved him and I took it. It's as simple as that, and as stupid and complicated. It's terrible. It's like knowing someone you love is dead but not having the body to prove it. He loved me. I know it.”
“I remember I wanted to get away; I wanted to run. I couldn't stand any more. But I didn't want to run. I wanted everything to be perfect; everything was going to be great - I just had to be careful. I was responsible for it all. The clouds coming, I was dragging them towards us; my thoughts were doing it. I was ruining everything. It was up to me. I could control the whole day. All I had to do was make sure that I made no stupid mistakes. Don't walk on the cracks. Don't look at the clouds. It's up to you.”
“There were days when I didn't exist; he saw through me and walked around me. I was invisible. There were days when I liked not existing. I closed down, stopped thinking, stopped looking...There were days when I couldn't even feel pain. They were the best ones. I could see it happening. There was no ground under me, nothing to fall to. I was able to not care. I could float. I didn't exist”
They'd been in the folk mass choir when they were in school but that, they knew now, hadn't really been singing. Jimmy said that real music was sex … They were starting to agree with him. And there wasn't much sex in Morning Has Broken or The Lord Is My Shepherd.
“I swooned the first time I saw Charlo. I actually did. I didn't faint or fall on the floor but my legs went rubbery on me and I giggled. I suddenly knew that I had lungs because they were empty and collapsing.”
Ce roman de Dino Buzzati traite de façon suggestive et poignante de la fuite vaine du temps, de l'attente et de l'échec, sur fond d'un vieux fort militaire isolé à la frontière du « Royaume » et de « l'État du Nord ».