Factory Girls by Michelle Gallen

First published in Great Britain in 2022; published by Algonquin Books on November 29, 2022

Factory Girls takes place in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. The background of religious and political division balances the novel’s humor. The story is also infused with biting commentary on the role of gender and class in the UK. While those serious themes evolve until they give weight to a simple story, the bright and opinionated protagonist assures the reader of a serious laugh on nearly every page.

Maeve Murray is a Catholic who grew up with the Troubles. She isn’t as affected by bombings and deaths as members of her parents’ generation; they seem a normal part of her life. But when news reports exaggerate the harm caused by an IRA bomb that a local had dismantled before the bomb squad arrived to set it off, Maeve decides to become a journalist. She’s tired of slanted media coverage and wants to bring a perspective of truth to the news — not that she expects to be assigned to serious news coverage, given her gender.

Maeve has taken her A-levels and has been accepted into University College in London if the results meet the university’s standards. She won’t know until mid-August. To earn some money and pass the time, she spends the summer working at the local shirt factory with her two best friends, Caroline and Aoife. Her job is to iron shirts.

Initially, the plot follows Maeve as she drinks with her friends after work and lusts after the few attractive men in her life. She writes off most of the men she sees in the pub because they have entered their thirties and are “fat and filthy.” Although she despises the man, she feels a pleasant physical response whenever she sees the factory owner, Andy Strawbridge. Andy drives a Jag and has a reputation for giving lifts home to factory girls so he can “park up some lonely lane” and get blown by his girl of choice.

Strawbridge has taken a development grant after promising to employ both Protestants and Catholics. His factory is non-union and his pay is predictably substandard, for which he blames cheap labor in less developed countries. Some of the factory workers, including Maeve, decide to investigate Strawbridge’s business operation. They don’t like what they find.

Maeve is also suspicious of the factory’s ability to unify a divided city. By the novel’s end, Maeve is disgusted with attempts to bring unity that are nothing but showmanship. Catholics and Protestants on the same quiz team need to be driven to the quiz by armed British escorts. Armed guards also transport a choir that sings songs of peace. Maeve comes to believe that covering the divisions with pretty wallpaper won’t end the bombings. She wants to get religion out of schools, to integrate schools and neighborhoods and the police, but effective solutions are more difficult than singing “Imagine” to students who have been raised to hate practitioners of a religion they do not share.

Maeve’s suspicion that Strawbridge is not to be trusted underlies the plot. Most of the story, however, is devoted to Maeve’s observations of life and interactions with her two friends. Aoife’s parents are more affluent than the other families Maeve knows, and Aoife is grateful that Maeve doesn’t hold her social class against her. Caroline is nearly as bright as Maeve and Aoife but less ambitious. She doesn’t know whether she wants to leave a hometown that will only prove to be a dead end if she stays.

Maeve has been reading Dale Carnegie to learn how to get along with co-workers but being artificial isn’t in her nature. Her feisty personality accounts for most of the novel’s humor. Maeve’s Northern Irish voice is wonderful. Here she describes a recently opened coffee shop: “McHugh’s Brews was bunged with wee women murmuring over an iced bun and tearing the arse out of a pot of tea.” On Aoife’s innocence: “If Aoife fell into a barrel of cocks she’d come out sucking her own thumb.” On generational differences: “Her mam’s generation had been mad for civil rights and the marching before the TV mast had boosted its signal and the improved reception settled their heads.”

Maeve is astonished to discover that the religious differences between Catholics and Protestants are slight (a couple of words in a prayer, slightly different church rituals) yet the differences lead to segregation, unequal opportunities, and violence. Maeve marvels that Protestant and Catholic women alike are treated as insignificant servants by the men who make all the decisions, even when all their decisions are wrong. She wonders at the national condemnation of abortion when everyone knows that women who can raise the money go to England and return relieved of their pregnancies while the men who knocked them up pretend that nothing ever happened.

The ending resolves the main plot threads and offers some clues as to what the future might hold for the three girls. Of course, the Troubles won’t be (partially) resolved for a few more years, while the cultural issues that depress Maeve will not likely be resolved in her generation. The novel’s ending is nevertheless as happy as it can be while remaining honest. If Michelle Gallen decides to check in on Maeve ten years from now, I’d stand in line to pick up the book.

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Big Girl, Small Town by Michelle Gallen

First published in Great Britain in 2020; published by Algonquin Books on December 1, 2020

Majella O’Neill is the big girl in the title. Aghybogey in Northern Ireland is the small town. It’s a gossipy town that children who have means or scholarship-worthy smarts leave as soon as they reach adulthood. Having neither, Majella is still there, working the counter at a fish and chips takeaway. The novel follows her during a few days of her uneventful life — deadening days that are enlivened only by Majella’s snark and Michelle Gallen’s gift for capturing the essence of the villagers and the place and time in which they live.

Majella isn’t particularly happy but she makes a point of not being overly sad. People occasionally upset her but, after she calms down, she’s stoic. Her life is boring. She has the same conversations with the same people, listens to and repeats the same jokes, takes the same orders from the same customers, day after day. She relieves her boredom by sleeping as much as she can. On Sunday nights she goes the pub and drinks alone, accepting such offers to shag as might come along. She doesn’t get excited about birthdays but she’s happy to have turned 27 because she likes the number. She has a long list (with subdivisions) of things she doesn’t like and a much shorter list of things, including sex, that she does like. List entries serve as chapter subheadings. The text that follows each entry illustrates why she likes or dislikes the listed item.

Majella is widely regarded as a spinster. She lives with her mother, whose fondness for whiskey and pain pills makes Majella the family wage earner. Her father has disappeared and her Uncle Bobby is said to have blown himself up while planting a booby trap for the IRA. She works with a gossipy married man and occasionally has sex with him because why not? Majella’s sex partner choices are limited but after she learned how to masturbate, she didn’t have much use for men anyway.

Majella’s life might not be the life she wants, but she has learned to cope because she sees no alternative and she doesn’t want to become the people she dislikes. As best she can, she avoids interaction with most people and tries not to make eye contact with anyone. What Majella lacks in ambition she makes up for with attitude and unspoken opinions. She doesn’t like the new doctor because, unlike the old doctor, the new one tries to diagnose problems rather than dispensing pain pills. She has little use for the police or drunks or townspeople who express their sympathy for the loss of her recently deceased grandmother. She dislikes flirting, hypocrisy, telephone calls, nicknames, and a variety of other things. Her daily illustrations of the things she dislikes range from amusing to hilarious.

Gallen’s rendition of the local dialect (“What canna get chew?” “But sure it’s wild hard these days tae find steady work, y’know.”) is a joy to read. She captures the atmosphere of Northern Ireland and the tension between Catholics and Protestants without ever taking it on directly. That narrative decision is true to the story, as Majella accepts the world in which she lives — the border guards who bothered her father when she was young, the arrests that villagers don’t talk about, the revered Cause that she doesn’t really understand — without giving it much thought. The novel is ultimately a snapshot of a few days in Majella’s life. The focus is on Majella and, as one would expect from a snapshot, everything in the background is just a bit blurred.

The murder of an elderly woman lurks in the novel’s background, as do arrests of Majella’s neighbors and customers. Speculation about the whereabouts of Majella’s missing father and the contents of her grandmother’s will contribute to the plot. Still, Big Girl, Small Town is the kind of novel that doesn’t need an identifiable plot. Learning how Majella lives her life, watching her move from one dreary day to the next, tells a story of its own. While the last third of the novel brings some change to Majella’s life, it isn’t clear that Majella is ready for change. An epiphany on the final page suggests she might have learned something from all the episodes of Dallas she watched, but the story brings no firm resolution. Majella has a good bit of life yet to live and the reader will just have to wonder what she might make of it. She is such a sympathetic character that the reader can’t help but root for her to make a wise choice.

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