In 1989, in the West of Ireland, Donnie McNamara, tired of being the family disappointment, buys a one-way ticket to Tinseltown to pursue his ridiculed dream of acting.
Abe Nelson, a fallen Hollywood legend, now wallows in LA dive bars.
Their worlds collide. Abe becomes an unlikely mentor and is catapulted into Donnie's fantastical endeavour.
But will the journey to stardom end in red carpets or red faces?
In 1989, in the West of Ireland, Donnie McNamara, tired of being the family disappointment, buys a one-way ticket to Tinseltown to pursue his ridiculed dream of acting.
Abe Nelson, a fallen Hollywood legend, now wallows in LA dive bars.
Their worlds collide. Abe becomes an unlikely mentor and is catapulted into Donnie's fantastical endeavour.
But will the journey to stardom end in red carpets or red faces?
Donnie scanned the stage for somewhere inconspicuous to puke, but it was too late. He was being ushered closer towards his big moment and felt utterly paralysed with fear. He swallowed the acidic puddle of vomit in his mouth and blessed himself. Holding his clammy hands tightly together to stop them from shaking, he prayed for success to the God he desperately now hoped existed.
Randolph Lettering strode onto the stage as the announcer belted out a welcome around the venue.
‘It’s Randy! I can call him Randy because I know him. It’s Randolph Lettering!’
Randolph stood in the centre of the stage, lit up in a halo of light. He gave the audience a hearty wave.
‘Welcome to our music special at The Troubadour! And it definitely will be special! We’ve got some amazing music on the show tonight, and our guests include The Bangles!’
The crowd cheered, but Randolph was a little disappointed with the LA crowd, grungy and dressed in black. He was used to the slick, colourful New Yorkers. So Randolph upped his game, hoping to rally some enthusiasm.
‘And all the way from Australia, we should be so lucky, Kylie Minogue!’
A more spirited cheer—they were warming up.
‘And as well as our musical guests, we have a couple of guests from the movie business ... here to save the world, Bill Murray! And our Big guest, Tom Hanks!’
A few exuberant whistles filtered through thunderous applause. Randolph knew Bill Murray and Tom Hanks would achieve that but wasn’t sure how his next guest would go down. ‘But first up, we have someone you have never heard of because this is his first film.’
The audience fell silent.
‘He’s landed on his feet in a new George Lawless movie, Cracked ... Maybe he’ll join the walk of fame one day, but it all starts here. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome ... Donnie McNamara!’
Donnie shielded his eyes from the white glare of the lights and peered at the audience—row upon row of black silhouettes, like crows on a telephone wire at dusk. He thought his bowels were going to explode or implode. Either way, he shuffled onto the stage, clenching his buttocks. Randolph smiled broadly, disguising his instinct that this would be an onerous interview ... but a favour was a favour.
Donnie managed to sit down without falling and, perched in front of Randolph Lettering, his adrenalin finally kicked in. This was it! He gave the audience a coy little wave of his hand, grinning so hard he thought his lips would rip. Donnie felt that every second he had spent dreaming, every time he had ignored rejection, deflected humiliation and upheld his self-belief, had led to this moment. This was the beginning of his journey to The Oscars.
‘Good to meet you, Randolph!’ Donnie seemed to have no control over his shrill voice.
‘It’s okay, I won’t bite,’ Randolph smiled. He shook Donnie’s damp hand and subtly wiped the residual sweat on his suit trousers under the desk. ‘So, Donnie, you’re a farmer from a remote village in Ireland, and now you’re making a George Lawless movie! Tell us— how did this all come about?’
Donnie cleared his dry throat and tried to remember at least some of the script Sable Vonderhyde, the scary publicist, had given him, but his mind went blank, and instead, he stared at Randolph ... Randolph Lettering. He was sitting right in front of him, being interviewed ... about a movie he was making. Donnie’s dream had been on borrowed time, and if he didn’t hit the jackpot now, he would have to retreat, bury his dream forever and accept the fact that he was going to spend the rest of his life knee-deep in cow shit. But here he was, with success in sight, being interviewed by the legendary talk show host. The question bounced around Donnie’s head—how did this all come about?
Was it on the annual family pilgrimage to Dingle for summer holidays when they had watched in awe as an entire village was built for the set of Ryan’s Daughter? Or was it his first-ever trip to the cinema? The magnificent wonder of the big screen had been a feast for his senses, transporting him to a cliff top, his heart in his mouth as he evaded the enemy and plunged into the water with Butch and Sundance.
His memory of that day was so vivid he could still feel the rain trickling down the back of his cagoule as he queued with his elder cousins and big sister in the pouring rain. There was a busker with thick sideburns and long hippy hair that flapped in the wind. He belted out tunes on his guitar to those queuing, hoping they might relinquish their precious money to show their appreciation. Donnie had clenched his fist over the coins in his hand, partly to conceal them and partly to ensure a fit of inadvertent generosity didn’t overcome him—any surrender of coins would mean no tin of coke for the film. His cousins, PJ, Antony and Liam, wanted to light up, so they had led his big sister, Kathy, and him to the back row. Donnie was pushed into the row first, and to his disgust, he was seated next to a couple slurping at each other’s mouths. Purple smoke swirled around the beam from the projector, but as soon as the movie started, he forgot about the pair snogging next to him and marvelled at Paul Newman and Robert Redford blowing up trains, galloping under gunfire and kicking up one hell of a storm. That could have been that day it all came about, or it could have been his first stage appearance in the nativity play. It hadn’t been a question Donnie had ever considered.
Randolph Lettering wanted to click his fingers in front of his guest’s face, but he resisted the temptation.
‘Donnie? How did it all come about?’
Just as Donnie’s brain kicked into gear to answer the question, he heard a hideously familiar voice from the audience shout out.
‘Everyone knows you can’t fucking act!’
As Randolph’s eyes darted towards the heckle, Donnie felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. He managed a nervous laugh and tried again to speak, hoping the voice was an anxiety-induced hallucination.
‘Well, Randolph, for as long as I can remember, I wanted to be an actor, and I don’t think anyone really took me seriously—’ The heckler boomed over Donnie from the crowd, ‘Took you seriously? Why would they? You suck, you useless, little, lying bollox!’
Donnie felt he was falling from a great height even though he was still sitting in the chair. Wide-eyed, he stared into the black depths of the audience as Randolph looked round to Paul, the keyboard player. Paul shrugged back at him. Randolph was used to the unexpected happening on live television, and at first, he thought the heckler might be some prank, but now with this language, it was clear he was not, and why the hell had the producer not cut to the ads?
Being a pro, Randolph continued undeterred, ‘Seems you have a bit of a fan already.’
The audience laughed and then gasped as a hulking figure made straight for the stage.
The producer, aware that he should be cutting to ads, felt the urge to let it play out for a little longer. He could see the security heading straight for the figure, and although he may well be fired for this, it could make ratings soar. The risk was worth taking.
Donnie saw him coming, signalling the imminent collapse of his new world. He had a feeling of being sucked through the floor into the jaws of humiliation. He felt dizzy as he tumbled into a career death roll. There was no time to filter his thoughts.
‘WOULD YOU EVER FUCK OFF, FRANCIS!’ Donnie shouted at the top of his voice, slid from his chair, and hid behind Randolph, covering his face with both hands.
The producer was about to yell, ‘Cut!’ when two security guards hauled the man away. Donnie crawled out slowly from behind Randolph. The producer held his hand up—he wanted just a few more moments of this television gold, and Donnie was about to deliver it.
Donnie stumbled, stupefied, towards camera one. Then, looking directly at the camera, he whispered, ‘Hi, Mum, Dad, Kathy, Sheena. I’ve got a lot to tell you.’
Donnie, born in a farming family in a small Irish village, has a dream. He’s always wanted to be an actor, but nobody in his family (apart from his younger sister) believes he can do it. When his uncle —who has lived in the US for years and everybody thinks has made a fortune— dies and leaves each member of the family a small amount of money, he decides to make his dream come true and flies to LA, under false pretenses. Once there, he is totally star-struck, falls in love with the city and its inhabitants, and throws himself head-first into any auditions he can get hold of, taking a chance at love as well. As luck would have it, he meets a true (but disgraced) movie star, Abe Nelson, and his spontaneity and naivete eventually win the old-timer over, getting him an opportunity in a million.
The first novel of Fiona Graham is a true delight. It is a story of an innocent abroad, and Donnie is a great creation because, despite his continuous misjudging of situations, faux pas, lack of filter, and limited insight, he is not a total joke but someone genuine, with a huge heart whom readers feel (and fall) for. He loves his family, he feels terrible for lying to them, and when things get tough, he puts the needs and interests of others before his own. There are plenty of comedic situations, from pure slapstick to those caused by the cultural gap, but there are also moments of reflection and scenes that delve into the nature and importance of family relationships, friendships, loyalty, and what really matters in life. This is Donnie’s story, first and foremost, but the book is narrated in the third person from an omniscient point of view. Readers need not be worried, because that does not create a head-hopping effect. Rather, it allows them to be a step ahead of the protagonist and learn how he comes across to others and what their motivations might be, enhancing the story and giving it a more choral feel. The writing style has a cinematic feel to it, is dynamic, not slowed down by lengthy descriptions, full of memorable scenes, peppered with colourful Irish expressions, and it would make a wonderful adaptation to the screen.
This feel-good novel is perfect for anybody looking for a pick-me-up read. It is funny, heart-warming, upbeat, and a touching endorsement of family, friendship, and the redeeming power of love and dreams. A self-assured first novel, from an author readers will be eager to keep hearing about.