This is a love letter to Rome, Italy, and Ireland, by turns heart-rending, comedic and awe-inspiring. O’Connor has a glorious way with words: he writes of Cahersiveen in County Kerry as a place “where a bottle of tomato ketchup would be considered exotic and possession of a clove of garlic would have you burned as a witch”.

My Father’s House by Joseph O’Connor review - The Guardian

Change the plan you will roll onto at any time during your trial by visiting the “Settings & Account” section. What happens at the end of my trial? If you do nothing, you will be auto-enrolled in our premium digital monthly subscription plan and retain complete access for 65 € per month.Or take Delia Kiernan, a famed singer in Ireland before becoming wife of the senior Irish diplomat to the Vatican, recalling her first meeting with O’Flaherty: “His means of transport that night was his motorcycle. O’Flaherty himself is a complex and believable hero. Part of O’Connor’s genius is that we hear O’Flaherty’s own voice and see him through the narration of his friends. He is a papal diplomat brought up in rural Ireland in the bloody years of Irish Independence. We learn to know him through the warm tales of his life as a priest fresh to Rome, and his delight and ease in the city. He came to be friends with the people who are risking their lives alongside him. The mix of first- and third-person narratives feels fresh, insightful, and true. Joseph O’Connor’s earlier work was instrumental in demonstrating that modern historical fiction can mean novels of ideas and the state of the nation rather than works of populist nostalgia. Writing about second world war espionage and resistance is brave in this context – there are so many gold-lettered tales of homosocial derring-do sold to men in airports – but anyone buying My Father’s House with this expectation will find themselves expected to think as well as fantasise. They include a widowed Italian countess, a flamboyant British diplomat to the Vatican and a Jewish Londoner jazz musician-turned-inspired scrounger, and they do actually sing at music rehearsals, conducted by the Monsignor. But all the while, he is distributing detailed instructions to each for what to do on the next Rendimento, the mission to help save thousands of Allied men.

My Father’s House by Joseph O’Connor: A masterful, seamless My Father’s House by Joseph O’Connor: A masterful, seamless

The Vatican City is an independent country within Rome. And Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty, along with an unlikely group of friends called ’the choir’, continue to provide refuge to those who can reach them. It’s an incredibly dangerous but tightly-run clandestine operation, and O’Flaherty remains frustratingly out of Hauptmann's grasp. Those that run the Escape Line — an initiative Hauptmann is determined to stamp out — are gathered together in what becomes known as the Choir, under the tutelage of Monsignor O’Flaherty. O’Connor has a real gift for memorable scenes that live long in the memory and feel almost like a short story — the “choir” practising in a disused room and seizing a moment of harmony and happiness while creating their cover story; O’Flaherty hiding his notes away while under intense threat; the confrontation in the confessional; a network member realising that he does not have the courage that he needs to do the job that he volunteered for, and being met with understanding and sympathy by the rest of the network.The book concludes with a deep study of great Christian themes, concerning love and repentance and sacraments. What does it mean at the end that Hugh baptises Hauptmann, but will not hear his confession? And as each chapter heading steers the reader to the countdown before the frighteningly risky next Rendimento, we become utterly invested in the safety and the ultimate fate of “our” Monsignor and the motley members of the Choir. I was reminded of the novels of John Boyne, Kate Atkinson, and most unusually, Andrew O’Hagan’s wonderful novel on fame, Personality, which has a similarly dazzling way with voice and historical period detail Hauptmann embodies something of the terrible paradoxes in the heart of Germany in the 1930s — cultured and brutal, urbane and ruthless. He brings his family with him, living a troubling double life as a dealer of arbitrary death and a father. At times, you have to stop to think hard about what is happening, because it is so awful and yet, in the story, mundane. The narrative moves on, but someone’s torture is beginning, or their life ends. Towards the end of the book, that gap shuts horribly as, casually and meaninglessly, Hauptmann executes someone whom we thought he liked. Certainly would make a great movie, and it becomes natural to draw comparisons with Oscar Schindler. It's thought that through O'Flaherty, with the help of his choir and surrounding network, over 6,000 people were saved.