While we’re on the subject of the Irish, a people dumb enough to let themselves be abused by the Catholic Church for centuries...
I have never felt an urge to visit Ireland. There has been no cogent reason. My prejudices have always informed me that the land suffers from bad weather and mostly poor people. Tending to prefer the other end of the comfort scale, I spent my vacations in other countries, which offered less chance of rain and wide choice of luxury accommodations. For some strange reason, my sister is crazy about the place (or, perhaps, simply crazy), to the extent of even learning its dead or dying language.
Having nothing better to last night, needing a break from writing garbage, and finding no better alternative on the television I watched the film, Leap Year. Much of the tale takes place in Ireland. Production values were good, offering some scenic impression of the country, but the story was rather shallow and occasionally stretching credibility. But, I needed some light entertainment and wanted to avoid thinking deep thoughts, so shallow was just right. The film provided a good impression of the landscape, lifestyle, and characters on the loose, all of which confirmed my prejudices and my lack of desire to visit.
In earlier times, we often asked ourselves when planning a vacation, “why go to X, when we can go to France?” This question still works, when X=Ireland.
Prior to writing novels, the author enjoyed a multifaceted career: from decorated combat aviator to advertising professional to global communications director of a major consumer brand. He has traveled the world and met sports, film and television stars, political leaders, and royalty. He graduated from Middlebury College, is married, lives in Germany, and has two grown children.