This is a female text

I honestly don't think I have the right type of critical, analysing mind to talk about this book properly in the way it deserves but all I can say is, it's a masterpiece.

In this book Doireann Ní Ghríofa outlines her own life and identity as a young mother who becomes enthralled with the mystery of Eibhlín Dubh - the author of Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire. Who she was before she became the wife and widow of Art, and what became of her after his death. She disappears from history as the letters she once wrote, or on which her name appeared, were thrown away while similar notes connected to male figures attached to her lived on throughout history.

Love, your blood was spilling in cascades,
and I couldn't wipe it away, couldn't clean it up, no,
no, my palms turned cups and oh, I gulped."

There is so much to love about this story - both Doireann's intense attachment and growing obsession with Eibhlín, and the way she uses her story to tell her own from failed medical student to passionate teacher and onward to loving mother who not only uses her own body to nurture the children of her flesh, but to nurture other babies in need of mother's milk.

"In choosing to carry a pregnancy, a woman gives of her body with a selflessness so ordinary it goes unnoticed, even by herself. Her body becomes bound to altruism as instinctively as to hunger. If she cannot consume sufficient calcium, for example, that mineral will rise up from deep within her bones and donate itself to her infant on her behalf, leaving her own system in deficiency. Sometimes a female body serves another by effecting a theft upon itself."

I thought the structure and flow of this story was perfect. I felt equally attached whether Doireann was talking about her hospital stay, Eibhlín's early life with her twin Mary or the years after when Doireann and her family finally moved to a permanent home and Doireann attempted to pay homage to the woman who came before her and spilled her love into the house and garden (I really loved this chapter about remembering the lady who once lived in their new home, it was so lovely and if everyone could remember others/perfect strangers in the same way, what special moments they would be).

In this book, Doireann paints a picture of Eibhlín Dubh and brings her to life in a glorious way. In writing what she knows down, she finally gives to Eibhlín her own caoineadh that she rightly deserves. Forgotten in history behind the shadows of sons, husbands and brothers, a young mother finally uses her own power of language to pull Eibhlín back into the light and take her rightful place in Ireland's memories.

"In every page there are undrawn women, each waiting in her own particular silence."

This book just really hit me where it was meant to, and I loved every bit of it. I'm excited to reread it again in the future and I feel like every time I do I will feel different emotions and react to different parts even more strongly than I already did the first time around.