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This is aimed at mums and dads who might have a son who is showing interest in people like Jordan Peterson or Andrew Tate.

I personally found it very reductive, but I accept she'll do more good by going for the LCD. The descriptions and experiences of men are very blokey, very English. I could not identify with any of the men described in the book. (and I'm cis het white boy from Ireland, which overlaps so much that both peoples often get lumped together)

Moran (MOran not moRAN, a little irish lesson for you there) is a very empathetic writer, and fucking loves her cigarettes. She has such a strong voice in her writing that you probably don't need to audiobook, but it's still worth it, if that's your preference.

Would recommend to the target audience of mums and dads, but would warn against pushing it on a young person unless they are already teetering on the edge of an epiphany.

Follow-up: after listening to the epilogue, which is some kind of Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus type shit, 3 stars → 1 star. Smacks of "this all the stuff I wanted to say, but knew it wouldn't fit the narrative" and then couldn't help herself anyway. Massively disappointing, will recommend people away from this book now.

I don't normally like books or films that are Love Letters to Daddy (side-eye firmly planted on Infinitely Polar Bear), because they are too commonly making excuses for Daddy's bad behavior. And we don't need any more excuses being made for men behaving badly, either historically or now. But Séamas O'Reilly's "Did Ye Hear Mammy Died?" seems to be about a very rare, actual hero, and worthy of the praise.

I think the basic way that everyone will relate is because he describes the father we all wished we had. Like, we started out idolising Daddy, only to be brought crashing down to reality at some point. And sometimes we caught glimpses of someone else's father being kind and wished ours could be the same (a combination of mistaken observations and foolish, unobtainable dreams).

I wonder if it hits harder for those of us abused and neglected by our fathers, or those grieving for lost father's who they loved (not to imply there is a hierarchy of emotional impact, but I can't help wondering about the similarities of these polar situations).

Whatever about these questions, it is a very funny and a very provocative book (the best things a book can be), and I totally believe the love the author felt (along with super highly developed social intelligence), is what afforded them the security to become so self-assured in what they do. It reaffirms my feeling that I don't believe love is all you need, but it is essential for a life beyond mere survival.