The language in Paul Lynch’s “The Black Snow” possesses a kind of sustained lyricism which blends the poetic, the archaic, and the rural vocabulary of old Ireland. If you’re not au fait with the language, occasionally you can get lost in it (in the sense of not being quite sure what is being said) and at that point simply need to let it wash over you.
The story is a tragic one, and in spite of an early posting of that inevitability, Lynch still manages to smack us between the eyes at the end.
If I had one quibble, it would be that I think there is one ‘loose end’, an unanswered question, which perhaps could have been more explicitly resolved. [No spoilers!]
Recommended – but not if you’re looking for anything other than gut-wrenching sadness.
Ian Gouge - Writer 