By Alex Hijmans
Saighdiúr de chuid na cúise í Rebekka Vogelzang, bean óg as an Ísiltír a d’fhoghlaim Gaeilge agus í ag obair i dteach caife Gaelach i gcathair na Gaillimhe. Cuireann sí a croí agus a hanam isteach i ngach uile bhonnóg dá mbácáileann sí agus i ngach uile chupán coffee dá ndéanann sí, toisc pass dtuigeann sí move bhfuil slánú na teanga ag brath air. Ach cé a shlánóidh Rebekka?
A novel written within the Irish language during which Rebekka Vogelzang, a tender Dutchwoman, is combating to save lots of the Irish language, which she has learnt at the task in an Irish-speaking cafe in Galway. She places her middle and soul into each scone she bakes and each cup of coffee she makes simply because she is aware the very salvation of the language relies on it. yet who will store Rebekka?
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Additional info for Aiséirí
Only now, we’d just heard, he wasn’t, so the best I could offer the girl was a tour round the place, culminating here in the narrow, much partitioned and generally broken-up space where Phil, myself, our two assistants and the occasional back-up researcher put the show together each day. From here we had a fine view of the rain-stained, white-glazed bricks of the light-well, though if you squatted down by the windows and looked up, you could see the sky. The office walls were mostly covered in posters for Indie bands I had never heard of - I suspected Phil only hired assistants who heartily despised all the music we played; it was one of his little rebellions against the system - however, we did have (as well as the office-equipment mandatory portrait of our Dear Owner, Sir Jamie) a few Sony awards, donated gold and platinum discs from artists and bands who’d been cruelly deceived by their record companies into thinking we’d helped them with their careers, and - what I was genuinely by far the most proud of - a modest but high-quality collection of framed landmark hate mail.
Said Ed. ’ Amy and I exchanged looks. ’ said Ed. ’ ‘That’s the test,’ Amy said, sternly. ’ I nodded. ’ Ed started towards the apartment, then stopped. ’ I held it out over the drop with both hands and then let it go. Amy whooped and we high-fived. ’ ‘Have you seen this place? ’ ‘They’re movin, man. ’ ‘Good point. ’ Kul asked. ’ I said. Kul had a bit of a sheen on him; looked a little glassy-eyed. It never did take much to get him drunk. ’ ‘Umm, well …’ Most of the people at the party were taking turns to throw things over the parapet.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ’ I folded the phone. This was three weeks before the stuff with the Clout club and Raine (sorry; the stuff with the Clout club and ‘Raine’) and the taxi and the road under the railway bridge and the window and the nose-biffing incident and basically the whole grisly West-to-East-End night experience when I realised some bastard or bastards unknown seriously wanted to harm me, or even - and this was according to their own threats - kill me.