The universal trickster has been at work on my life in all sorts of wild ways, Irish novelist Paul Lynch tells me the morning after he was awarded the Booker Prize for his novel Prophet Song, which imagines Ireland taken over by a fascist regime.
The entire meaning of what was to come in the book is encoded in those first few lines and yet I didn't know what I was going to write. Did I think about giving it a happy ending? That's a shocking question. Do you think it's my job to offer solace?
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