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149 pages

English

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Anne Marie's Da, a Glaswegian painter and decorator, has always been game for a laugh. So when he first tells his family that he's taking up meditation at the Buddhist Centre in town, no one takes him seriously. But as Jimmy becomes more involved in his search for the spiritual his beliefs start to come into conflict with the needs of his wife, Liz, and cracks begin to form in their previously happy family. With grace, humour and humility Anne Donovan's beloved debut tells the story of one man's search for a higher power. But in his search for meaning, Jimmy might be about to lose the thing that matters most.

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Publié par	Canongate Books
Date de parution	25 septembre 2009
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781847675521
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0400€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Anne Donovan is the award-winning author of the novels Buddha Da, Gone are the Leaves and Being Emily and the short story collection Hieroglyphics and Other Stories . Buddha Da was shortlisted for the Orange Prize, the Whitbread First Novel Award and the Scottish Book of the Year Award, and was nominated for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. It received a Scottish Arts Council Award and won the Le Prince Maurice Award in Mauritius in 2004. She has also written for radio and stage and has been working on the screenplay for the film of Buddha Da . She lives in Glasgow.
Also by Anne Donovan
Hieroglyphics and Other Stories Being Emily Gone are the Leaves

Many thanks to family and friends, and to everyone who has given support and encouragement during the writing process
The Canons edition first published in 2019 by Canongate Books
First published in Great Britain in 2003 by Canongate Books Ltd, 14 High Street, Edinburgh, EH1 1TE
This digital edition first published in 2009 by Canongate Books Ltd
canongate.co.uk
Copyright © Anne Donovan, 2002
The right of Anne Donovan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988
The author would like to thank the Scottish Arts Council for a bursary which enabled her to devote time to writing this book
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 78689 400 7 eISBN 978 1 84767 552 1
For Colum, with love.
Contents
Anne Marie Liz Jimmy Anne Marie Liz Anne Marie Liz Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Liz Anne Marie Liz Anne Marie Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Liz Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Jimmy Liz Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Acknowledgements
Anne Marie
MA DA’S A nutter. Radio rental. He’d dae anythin for a laugh so he wid; went doon the shops wi a perra knickers on his heid, tellt the wifie next door we’d won the lottery and were flittin tae Barbados, but that wis daft stuff compared tae whit he’s went and done noo. He’s turnt intae a Buddhist.
At first Ma thought it wis another wanny his jokes.
‘Ah’m just gaun doon the Buddhist Centre for a couple hours, Liz, ah’ll no be lang.’
‘Aw aye, is there free bevvy there?’
‘Naw, hen, ah’m serious. Just thought ah’d go and have a wee meditate, try it oot, know?’
Mammy turnt roond fae the washin up, and gied him wanny they looks, wanny they ‘whit’s he up tae noo?’ looks ah’d seen a million times afore.
‘Jimmy, d’you think ma heid buttons up the back? Yer a heathen. The last time ye set fit in a chapel wis when yer daddy died. The time afore that was when ah’d tae drag you tae Anne Marie’s First Communion. And you’re tellin me you’re gaun tae a Buddhist Centre on a Tuesday night, quiz night doon the Hielander? Tae meditate? Gie’s a break.’
When ma da gets embarrassed he looks like thon skinny wan in the Laurel and Hardy films and starts tae scratch his ear wi his left haund. That’s when ah began tae think he could just be tellin the truth.
‘OK, ah know it’s funny, ah probably should of tellt ye afore, but it’s no the first time ah’ve been there. Know that job we’ve been daein in toon, thon shop? Well, ah wis gettin a coupla rolls for ma lunch when ah met wanny they Buddhist guys. We got talkin and ah went alang wi him tae see the centre. It wis rainin, ah’d nothin better tae dae and ah thought it’d be a laugh, you know, folk in funny claes, chantin and that.’
Ma wis staundin at the sink, soapy bubbles drippin aff her pink rubber gloves.
‘And?’
‘And it wisnae like that. They were dead nice, dead ordinary, gied me a cuppa tea, showed me the meditation room, and, ach, it wis the atmosphere, hen. Ah cannae explain it, but it wis just dead calm.’
Ah’d never seen ma da lookin like that afore; there wis a kinda faraway look in his eye. Ah kept waitin for him tae come oot wi the punchline but he just stood there for a minute, lookin oot the windae.
‘Anyhow, ah know it’s daft but ah just want tae gie it a try. They have these classes, embdy can go, so …’
‘Oh, well, suit yersel. Just watch they don’t brainwash you.’
Ma da turnt roond and spotted me, sittin at the table, daein ma hamework – ah think he’d forgotten ah wis there. He winked at me.
‘Nae chance ae that, is there, wee yin?’
‘They’d need tae find a brain.’

At first bein a Buddhist didnae seem tae make that much difference tae ma da. He used tae go doon the pub on a Tuesday and noo he went tae the Buddhist Centre tae meditate. Same difference. He never talked aboot it, wis still the same auld da, gaun tae his work, cairryin on in the hoose. He stuck a photie of the Buddha up on the unit in their bedroom and noo and again he’d go in there and shut the door insteid of watchin the telly – meditatin, he said. Ah thought he’d get fed up wi it. He wisnae a great wan for hobbies ma da, but sometimes he’d decide tae take on whit he cries ‘a wee project’. Wanst it wis buildin a gairden shed, anither time it wis strippin an auld sideboard that came fae ma granny’s. And of course he’d start it then get fed up and no finish. It drives ma ma roon the bend.
‘Jimmy, ah’m sick of lookin at they tools lyin in the hall. Are you no gonnae finish that?’
‘Steady on, hen, it’s in progress.’
‘Whit does that mean?’
‘It means ah’m havin a wee break. Ah need tae get some varnish, that ither stuff wis the wrang shade. Ah’ll finish it the morra. Nae sweat.’
And two weeks later the tools hadnae moved fae the hall so ma ma takes a flakey and dumps aw his stuff.
Ah thought this Buddhism would be like that. But efter a few weeks he wis still gaun tae the Centre and he’d startit meditatin in the hoose every night for aboot hauf an hour.
Ah decided tae ask him aboot it.
‘Da?’
‘Aye, hen.’
‘See this meditation, whit is it?’
He pulled a face.
‘Ah’m no sure how tae stert. It’s difficult tae explain.’
‘Aye, but, whit d’you dae?’
‘Well you sit doon quiet and you try tae empty yer mind, well no exactly empty, mair quiet it doon so aw the thoughts that go fleein aboot in yer heid kinda slow doon and don’t annoy ye.’
‘Why?’
‘Ah’m no very sure masel, hen.’
‘D’you like daein it?’
He smiled. ‘Aye, hen, ah dae.’
‘Mibbe that’s why.’
‘Mibbe you’re right. That’s dead profound. Mibbe you’re a Buddhist and you don’t know it.’
‘Ah don’t think ah want tae be a Buddhist, Daddy.’
‘How no, hen?
‘If ah went tae meditate wi you ah’d miss Who Wants to Be a Millionaire .’

It’s hard tae remember when ah realised it was gettin serious. Maisty the time things went on as normal. It wis comin up fur the summer and this would be ma last term at primary; ah’d be gaun tae the big school, as ma granny kept cryin it, efter the holidays. So we’d tae visit the new school and prepare fur the school show, and since this’d be oor last yin, Mrs Shields wis pullin oot all the stops. Ma ma wis dead busy too, buyin the new uniform and that, and ma granny had no been that well, so wi wan thing and anither, ah never really thought that much aboot ma daddy and his Buddhism. He startit gaun tae the Centre mair often, right enough. Thursdays as well as Tuesdays and sometimes even on a Saturday when his team were playin away. Then wan day while we were daein the dishes he reached up high and sumpn fell oot his pocket.
Ah lifted them fae the flair. Beads. Big broon beads strung on a thick rope. Like rosaries but much bigger and no divided up.
Ah held them oot and he pit them back in his pocket.
‘Whit are they, Daddy?’
He cairried on placin the dishes carefully on the shelf as he spoke. ‘Prayer beads, hen.’
‘Rosaries?’
‘Kind of. Ah suppose they’re the Buddhist version.’
‘Ah thought it wis just meditation you done. Ah didnae know you prayed as well.’
‘Sort of.’
Ah wis well confused noo. He never came tae the chapel wi us, said he didnae believe in God.
‘Who d’you pray tae, Daddy?’
‘The only prayin he does is that his horse’ll come in at fifty tae wan.’ Mammy came intae the kitchen wi her coat on. ‘Ah’m just gaun roond tae yer granny’s for an hour. See yous later.’
‘Aye, right, hen.’
Ah wiped a bowl and haunded it tae ma daddy.
‘Who dae you pray tae?’
There was a funny look on his face.
‘Look hen, this isnae easy, ah’m no really sure masel whit’s happenin, ach …’
‘It’s OK, Da, ah just wondered, that’s aw. It’s cool.’
He smiled, his auld self again.
‘Hey, listen tae you, it’s cool, man. Where d’you think ye are – New York?’
Ah flicked the tea towel at him.
‘At least ah’m actually doon on the earth, no yogic flyin roond the sky.’
Ah startit tae dae an aeroplane impression round the room, airms ootstretched, duckin and divin, ‘Sheeom, sheeom, sheeom …’
Da caught me and tickled me tae the grund.

Mammy and me had just got back fae the Co-op when the lamas arrived at the door. It caused a bitty a sensation, lamas in Maryhill. We’ve had some Hare Krishnas singin roond the streets wi their wee bells fae time tae time, and ye cannae go doon Byres Road on a Saturday wioot bein stopped by thon wifie in pink robes ootside the library that keeps on tellin you tae be happy, but these were lamas, the genuine Tibetan kind wi maroon robes and shaved heids. Three of them, staundin on the doorstep on a Saturday efternoon and the way the neighbours were lookin at these guys they might as well have been llamas wi humphy backs insteidy lamas. They seemed oblivious tae the commotion; ah suppose they’re used tae it, or mibbe meditatin really does make ye laid back. They bowed and the middle wan spoke.
‘Hello. Does Jimmy McKenna live here?’
He spoke dead clear but wi an accent ah’d no heard afore.
‘Ma da’s no in the now.’
The wee guy nodded and stood there smilin.
‘He’ll no be lang. He’s just up the road for a message.’
They never moved.
‘We shall wait for him,’ said the wee guy.
‘Do yous want tae come in and wait in the hoose?’
‘T