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A Thread of Violence: A Story of Truth, Invention, and Murder
From the award-winning author comes a gripping account of one of the most scandalous chapters in modern Irish history, at once a propulsive work of true crime and an act of literary subversion.
Malcolm Macarthur was a well-known Dublin socialite and heir. Suave and urbane, he passed his days mingling with artists and aristocrats, reading philosophy, living a life of the mind. But by 1982, his inheritance had dwindled to almost nothing, a desperate threat to his lifestyle. Macarthur hastily conceived a He would commit bank robbery, of the kind that had become frightfully common in Dublin at the time. But his plan spun swiftly out of control, and he needlessly killed two innocent people. The ensuing manhunt, arrest, and conviction amounted to one of the most infamous political scandals in modern Irish history, contributing to the eventual collapse of a government.
Author Mark O'Connell spent countless hours in conversation with Macarthur—interviews that veered from confession to evasion. Through their tense exchanges and O’Connell’s independent reporting, a pair of narratives a riveting account of Macarthur's crimes and a study of the hazy line between truth and invention. We come to see not only the enormity of the murders but the damage that’s inflicted when a life is rendered into story.
At once propulsive and searching, A Thread of Violence is a hard look at a brutal act, its subterranean origins, and the long shadow it casts. It offers a haunting and insightful examination of the lies we tell ourselves—and the lengths we'll go to preserve them.
Malcolm Macarthur was a well-known Dublin socialite and heir. Suave and urbane, he passed his days mingling with artists and aristocrats, reading philosophy, living a life of the mind. But by 1982, his inheritance had dwindled to almost nothing, a desperate threat to his lifestyle. Macarthur hastily conceived a He would commit bank robbery, of the kind that had become frightfully common in Dublin at the time. But his plan spun swiftly out of control, and he needlessly killed two innocent people. The ensuing manhunt, arrest, and conviction amounted to one of the most infamous political scandals in modern Irish history, contributing to the eventual collapse of a government.
Author Mark O'Connell spent countless hours in conversation with Macarthur—interviews that veered from confession to evasion. Through their tense exchanges and O’Connell’s independent reporting, a pair of narratives a riveting account of Macarthur's crimes and a study of the hazy line between truth and invention. We come to see not only the enormity of the murders but the damage that’s inflicted when a life is rendered into story.
At once propulsive and searching, A Thread of Violence is a hard look at a brutal act, its subterranean origins, and the long shadow it casts. It offers a haunting and insightful examination of the lies we tell ourselves—and the lengths we'll go to preserve them.
283 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 27, 2023
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 218 reviews
May 13, 2023
One of that deeply self-conscious breed of true crime books where the author spends half the time inserting himself into the narrative (the murderer was arrested at a luxury apartment complex that the author's grandparents also lived in) and questioning why he has chosen to cover this topic (like...then why have you, dude?). I almost DNF'd when in the first few chapters O'Connell admits to stalking random old men around Dublin, thinking one might be the released murderer. The middle picks up a bit as the crime is put in the context of 1980s Irish history, but I was annoyed again when O'Connell paints his work in opposition to the "trend" of telling victims' stories in true crime; he says he feels it inappropriate to speculate on their thoughts and emotions, and maybe he's right! But I see little point on wasting all these pages on Malcolm Macarthur, who was a terrible, inept, needless criminal, and who provides little insight into his own psychology other than to show he is self-deluded. Do we really need 300 pages attempting to understand Macarthur? I think everything about him is abundantly clear.
July 16, 2023
"Was he crushed by the dull weight of his deeds? Did the memory of his victims' faces, and the thought of the suffering of their families, torment his days and haunt his dreams?"
First, some context. Back in July 1982, Ireland was rocked by two gruesome murders. Bridie Gargan, a nurse who was sunbathing in Dublin's Phoenix Park, was brutally attacked with a hammer and left bleeding in the backseat of a car as her assailant escaped. She subsequently died of her injuries. A few days later in Edenderry, a farmer named Donal Dunne was selling a gun to a stranger when the prospective buyer turned and shot him in the face with it. The police quickly realised that the killings were linked, and soon got their man - an eccentric member of the upper class named Malcolm Macarthur. And to top it all off, he was found in the apartment of the Attorney General, the chief legal advisor to the Irish Government.
The case has been a sensation in this country from day one. But this book is not a simple retelling of the crime and the investigation that followed. Instead, Mark O'Connell inserts himself into the story, describing his own links to the scandal and his relationship with Macarthur, which developed in some unexpected ways throughout the course of the project.
O'Connell explains that he was aware of the case from an early age, his grandparents having lived in the apartment building adjacent to the one where Macarthur was found. He later completed a PhD on the work of John Banville, whose novel The Book of Evidence was clearly inspired by Macarthur's misdeeds. O'Connell also describes seeing Macarthur frequently around Dublin's city centre, wanting to speak to him, in the hopes that he might understand his motives and discover if he felt any remorse.
So that's what he did. O'Connell walked up to him one day, explained who he was and that he would like to interview him. Macarthur was taken aback, but agreed to an initial chat. And once he started, he couldn't stop. The words poured out of Macarthur - O'Connell would visit his apartment regularly and the two men phoned each other quite often. Their conversations form the bulk of this book.
So what kind of a man is Macarthur? Elusive, is the first word that springs to my mind. He is well-read, highly intelligent and in possession of an impressive memory, but a selective one. He talks to O'Connell in detail about his childhood, growing up on a vast estate in the Meath countryside. He speaks openly about his adult life, never having had a job, yet enjoying a luxurious lifestyle thanks to his inheritance. However, when it comes to discussing the murders, his memory becomes extremely vague and he describes it all in a detached style, as if he was merely a bystander in those events. He clearly has a massive ego and I think it would be fair to say he enjoys his notoriety to a certain extent.
O'Connell, for his part, grows apprehensive with how close the two men get. At one point Macarthur mentions that they seem to have become friends, and he finds that notion very uncomfortable. He talks about spending time at home with his daughter, and seeing Macarthur's number flash up on his phone in her presence makes him feel incredibly uneasy about the whole venture.
The book is a fascinating glimpse into the mind of a killer, and the fact that Macarthur does not fit the profile of your typical murderer makes it all the more intriguing. O'Connell is a terrific writer - I admired the way he included his misgivings about dedicating his time to writing about such a gruesome deed. But I do think it's worth trying to understand the motivations of such an individual. Ultimately, I found their conversations a little frustrating, but this is not down to O'Connell's efforts. I get the feeling Macarthur will never tell us the full story, and his explanation that the murders were solely driven by money will never entirely convince me. This is true crime with a difference - a perceptive and thoughtful study of an unknowable, twisted mind.
November 11, 2023
This review was first posted on Mystery & Suspense Magazine. Check it out for features, interviews, and reviews. http://www.mysteryandsuspense.com/a-t...
In 1982, Ireland was rocked by scandal when 37-year-old Malcolm Macarthur, a highly educated intellectual who lived a life of leisure, was arrested for brutally murdering two people.
Malcolm Macarthur
In an odd twist, Macarthur was apprehended in the penthouse apartment of Irish Attorney General Patrick Connolly, where Macarthur was staying as a houseguest. The resulting scandal cost Attorney General Connolly his job and brought down the Irish government of Irish Taoiseach (Prime Minister) Charles Haughey. The astonishing story inspired the acronym GUBU, for grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre, and unprecedented.
Attorrney General Patrick Connolly
Taoiseach Charles Haughey
Author Mark O'Connell became fascinated with Macarthur's story for several reasons. O'Connell's grandparents lived in the same apartment complex as Attorney General Connolly, and O'Connell frequently visited there as a child; the subject of O'Connell's PhD dissertation was writer John Banville, whose novel 'The Book of Evidence' was inspired by MacArthur; and though much had been written about Macarthur, O'Connell felt his real story had never been told.
Author Mark O'Connell
Thus when Macarthur was released from prison in 2012, after serving 30 years, O'Connell went to great pains to orchestrate a meeting with the ex-convict. Macarthur agreed to be interviewed for a book, and the many hours of conversation that followed resulted in 'A Thread of Violence.'
Malcolm Macarthur after he was released from prison
Starting with Macarthur's childhood, O'Connell writes, "Macarthur's early life was characterized by a precarious privilege." Macarthur's parents, Irene and Daniel, had a large estate in County Meath, and they raised the boy with benign neglect. Young Macarthur was largely left to his own devices, and he would explore the countryside outdoors and read books indoors. Acquaintances of the family observed, "Irene was old school landed gentry who had no maternal instincts whatsoever" and as a teenager, Macarthur was "affected and strange and apart."
County Meath, Ireland
At the age of seventeen Macarthur went to California to study. He transferred from college to college for a number of years and finally graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in 1967. Upon returning to Ireland, Macarthur embarked on an insouciant lifestyle and never found gainful employment of any kind. Macarthur told O'Connell, "That is the wonderful thing, by the way, about inherited wealth. You become the master of your own days."
To fill his time, Macarthur spent a lot of time in the library at Cambridge University, reading up on recent developments in economics and the sciences. O'Connell writes, "Macarthur's conversation was filled with long, detailed monologues on such diverse topics as tectonic plate theory, linear regression of modeling in economics, the philosophical problem of free will and determinism, the absurdities and complexities of the Irish legal system, and the root causes of the civil war in Vietnam." Macarthur also greatly enjoyed the finer things in life, which required substantial expenditures.
Cambridge University Library
In fact Macarthur was irresponsible with money. O'Connell notes that Macarthur often loaned money to friends who didn't pay him back and "entertained lavishly, frittering away his inheritance on the best restaurants in town; he spent frequent weekends in London, staying in hotels and attending cultural events [and his inheritance] was nowhere near large enough to fund such a lifestyle indefinitely."
Malcolm Macarthur often entertained friends at Bartley Dunne's bar in Ireland
Macarthur's shrunken bank account distressed him terribly. O'Connell notes, "Macarthur's whole way of life, in fact, was beginning to be cast into doubt. He would have to temper his lifestyle, his socializing, his travel. If he were to run out of money, and if he were forced to get some kind of job, his time would no longer be his own."
Macarthur's fear of being unable to continue his charmed life led to what Macarthur himself calls his 'criminal episode,' which he's VERY reluctant to discuss. In short, Macarthur decided to rob a bank, and needed a car and a gun to pull off the crime.
Malcolm Macarthur
This led to Macarthur attacking a young nurse named Bridie Gargan for her automobile; shooting a farmer called Dónal Dunne with the victim's own shotgun; and trying to rob an acquaintance with the shotgun he stole. The details of the crimes, the police investigations that followed, and the ultimate fallout, are all described in the book. However Macarthur's inner feelings about the crimes, which O'Connell tried hard to probe, remain obscure.
Bridie Gargan
Dónal Dunne
Malcolm Macarthur being led into court
To try to elucidate Macarthur's personality, O'Connell writes about Macarthur's relationship with his parents; his generosity to friends; his long-time girlfriend and their son; his habits; his classism; his penchant for nice clothes and silk ties; what other people say about him; and more.
Malcolm Macarthur in Dublin during the Covid pandemic
The book is the intriguing story of a seemingly decent man gone bad, and the writer who developed a fascination with the killer.
You can follow my reviews at https://reviewsbybarbsaffer.blogspot.com
July 27, 2023
Malcolm Macarthur is, arguably, the most notorious murderer in Irish history (setting aside sectarian violence). His story is nothing short of bizarre, and the book Mark O'Connell has written is far removed from the standard true-crime genre.
Macarthur, born into the RC landed gentry in Ireland, dissipated his fairly significant inheritance in pursuit of fine living and intellectual activities. In 1982 he decided that he would obtain a much-needed influx of cash by robbing a bank. In order to do that he needed a gun, and a car. In attempting to acquire those things, he murdered two innocent people. After being discovered hiding in the home of an acquaintance (who just happened to be the Attorney General of Ireland and was completely unaware of what Macarthur had done), he confessed and was sentenced to life in prison. He was released after 30 years.
What makes this book stand out is that O'Connell feels a connection to Macarthur, one that takes various forms and runs through the entire book.
Some GR reviewers have criticized O'Connell for inserting himself into the book; I think they are missing the point. It is these connections that make the book the unique thing that it is. O'Connell had become mesmerized by Macarthur and his actions. They seem to defy explanation, even understanding, and O'Connell hoped that somehow, through extensive interviews with Macarthur, he could arrive at a basic truth about the man as he was back in 1982, and now. To be clear, there is no "truth" to be found about the murders. They are straightforward. It's the man who is the mystery.
About those connections. For one thing, O'Connell's grandparents owned a home adjacent to the one in which Macarthur was arrested. Although he hadn't yet been born at the time, stories about it were part of his childhood.
But the most important connection, it seems to me, is that O'Connell senses a similarity between his life trajectory and Macarthur’s. O'Connell's family was comfortably off, though not wealthy, and he was able to spend much of his young adulthood enrolled in university. (His thesis topic was John Banville's The Book of Evidence, a novel featuring a character based on Malcolm Macarthur). After a certain amount of floundering, O'Connell eventually became a published author, saving him from relying solely on his wife's salary for financial support.
This development created a material difference between O’Connell and Macarthur. The very idea of taking that step - earning a living - was distasteful to Macarthur. To this day he sees himself as above such plebeian undertakings. He has never stopped believing that his superior intellect, along with his manners and the social position he was born into, elevate him into a different category altogether than people who must be responsible for their financial wellbeing.
I won’t venture to explain O’Connell’s conclusions. His beautifully written, intensely thoughtful book presents them in a much more nuanced, elegant way than I could. I will say that I thoroughly enjoyed following his investigations and his deeply considered conclusions about Macarthur.
Macarthur, born into the RC landed gentry in Ireland, dissipated his fairly significant inheritance in pursuit of fine living and intellectual activities. In 1982 he decided that he would obtain a much-needed influx of cash by robbing a bank. In order to do that he needed a gun, and a car. In attempting to acquire those things, he murdered two innocent people. After being discovered hiding in the home of an acquaintance (who just happened to be the Attorney General of Ireland and was completely unaware of what Macarthur had done), he confessed and was sentenced to life in prison. He was released after 30 years.
What makes this book stand out is that O'Connell feels a connection to Macarthur, one that takes various forms and runs through the entire book.
Some GR reviewers have criticized O'Connell for inserting himself into the book; I think they are missing the point. It is these connections that make the book the unique thing that it is. O'Connell had become mesmerized by Macarthur and his actions. They seem to defy explanation, even understanding, and O'Connell hoped that somehow, through extensive interviews with Macarthur, he could arrive at a basic truth about the man as he was back in 1982, and now. To be clear, there is no "truth" to be found about the murders. They are straightforward. It's the man who is the mystery.
About those connections. For one thing, O'Connell's grandparents owned a home adjacent to the one in which Macarthur was arrested. Although he hadn't yet been born at the time, stories about it were part of his childhood.
But the most important connection, it seems to me, is that O'Connell senses a similarity between his life trajectory and Macarthur’s. O'Connell's family was comfortably off, though not wealthy, and he was able to spend much of his young adulthood enrolled in university. (His thesis topic was John Banville's The Book of Evidence, a novel featuring a character based on Malcolm Macarthur). After a certain amount of floundering, O'Connell eventually became a published author, saving him from relying solely on his wife's salary for financial support.
This development created a material difference between O’Connell and Macarthur. The very idea of taking that step - earning a living - was distasteful to Macarthur. To this day he sees himself as above such plebeian undertakings. He has never stopped believing that his superior intellect, along with his manners and the social position he was born into, elevate him into a different category altogether than people who must be responsible for their financial wellbeing.
I won’t venture to explain O’Connell’s conclusions. His beautifully written, intensely thoughtful book presents them in a much more nuanced, elegant way than I could. I will say that I thoroughly enjoyed following his investigations and his deeply considered conclusions about Macarthur.
July 15, 2023
I had never heard of the double murder Malcolm Macarthur committed in 1982, but apparently in Ireland it has entered into public consciousness. The case speaks to the imagination because of the contrast between the brutality of the killings and the character and reputation of the murderer: Macarthur was an intellectual from a wealthy family, wearing a bow tie and brogues. The fact that his arrest took place while he was staying at the house of Ireland's attorney general was food for conspiracy theorists.
The author O'Connell decides he wants to write about Macarthur, who spent 40 years in prison and is now out and seemingly resuming his cultured life. What drove this man to kill two complete strangers in such a brutal way? How can this 'criminal episode' be explained?
O'Connell manages to befriend Macarthur and what follows is an exploration of the questions above. But explanations prove difficult to find as Macarthur is everything but a reliable narrator.
A good true crime book, analytical rather than sensationalist, but maybe a bit too long as ultimately there isn't that much material to work with either..
3,5 and big thanks for the eARC.
The author O'Connell decides he wants to write about Macarthur, who spent 40 years in prison and is now out and seemingly resuming his cultured life. What drove this man to kill two complete strangers in such a brutal way? How can this 'criminal episode' be explained?
O'Connell manages to befriend Macarthur and what follows is an exploration of the questions above. But explanations prove difficult to find as Macarthur is everything but a reliable narrator.
A good true crime book, analytical rather than sensationalist, but maybe a bit too long as ultimately there isn't that much material to work with either..
3,5 and big thanks for the eARC.
July 20, 2023
I effectively read this in one sitting - it says I started reading it on the 6th, but actually it was on the 11th - so I must've found it compelling. I understand completely what other reviewers are saying about O'Connell taking too prominent a role in the story. For what it's worth, I think O'Connell does interpose himself too much. I know it's partly because he's questioning his own motives for writing the book. And there's obviously an internal conflict going on about whether or not he should be speaking to Macarthur in the first place. But it is too much. I also understand criticism of someone trying to understand the motives and psychology of a person who has committed such appalling crimes. But O'Connell isn't the first - look at Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. It seems to me human nature to try and make sense of the senseless. To try and explain the inexplicable. And it was me who read a review of the book, ordered it and read it in one go. So as the reader I must accept some responsibility. What was I looking for? What were my motives? As for Macarthur himself - I didn't find him to be sympathetic, truthful, or redeeming in any way. He seems to have a habit of coldly intellectualising everything. Human beings and relationships seem to be mere abstractions. Maybe it's a facade and his emotions are actually so strong - hence the killings - that this is the only way he can keep them in check. If it's true that in Ireland murderers spend on average about 17 years behind bars and Macarthur spent 30, then it's difficult to see how Macarthur was treated more leniently because of his education and social class. But - for me anyway - it's Macarthur's privileged background - privileged in terms of money, not love or affection - and eccentricity that gives the story an added fascination. On a human level it is wrong of me to see it in those terms. All I can say in mitigation is that what I think about now I've finished the book are Bridie Gargan and Donal Dunne. Not Malcolm Macarthur.
September 6, 2023
There is a plotline in the movie Broadcast News I kept thinking about as I listened to this. For those who have not seen the movie (you should, it is really good though a bit dated) the action takes place in the DC newsroom of one of the big networks. Holly Hunter is a scrupulous, rule following, brilliant producer. William Hurt is the not so smart but handsome and very dedicated reporter/anchor, and Albert Brooks is the intrepid field reporter, smartest guy in every room, diligent, brave, yet still somehow a bit of a nebbish. Hunter learns that Hurt (with whom she is romantically involved) had been filmed crying after an interview, and his tearful face spliced in to a piece where a woman tells her story of being raped to pull at the viewer's heartstrings. He makes the story about him. Hunter goes ballistic because a cardinal rule of reporting is that it is about the subject, never about the reporter. The reporter is there to bring out the information and be invisible and the audience can decide how they feel themselves.
I related this bit of film summary because, though this book pretty good, it is the author, Mark O'Connell who is at the center of it rather than the murderer Malcolm Macarthur who murdered two people in 1982 and was released from prison just before Covid lockdown.
O'Connell shares many reasons for his fascination with Macarthur. He goes on for a bit about Macarthur's "aristocratic forehead" his foppish hair, his bearing and gait and how as a result Macarthur does not "look like a murderer." This was not an auspicious start. Do murderers have darker skin? Do they have the aged skin of a laborer who works outside? Are they poorly dressed or groomed? To O'Connell apparently the answer to questions like that is "yes." I do understand that O'Connell is grappling with the idea that murderers may look and act like him. Trinity educated men with money and consequent leisure (this is a central topic throughout the book) who travel through life acquiring knowledge to no particular end and consorting with other men of this ilk. It is a potentially interesting topic for a memoir. This though is not supposed to be memoir. O'Connell does not share enough of himself for this to work as a memoir, and shares too much of himself for this to be reportage. I know that lines between genres get greyer and greyer all the time, often to wonderful effect but here, because O'Connell leans into his own life so hard, the first 25% of the book was not at all about the crime or its impact, After that first quarter O'Connell began to blend self examination with the examination of the crime, its victims (not just those murdered, but all the others who felt its impact) and the murderer himself.
I liked that in the portions where O'Connell is actually talking with Macarthur he did keep that journalistic distance. He made clear that his observations were not fact, but rather perception. This is something that is very rarely done in true crime, and one of the reasons I rarely read true crime. One other thing I liked was the distance maintained in discussing the crime itself. True crime is often revoltingly lurid. It tries to put you THERE as the crimes happen. Firstly, who wants to be there? Secondly, it purports to be fact but is pure fiction. No one knows what happened in the course of most crimes, if there were witnesses there would be little mystery to write about. True crime books often falsely purport to tell you what the victims are thinking and feeling in the moment but provide instead what some true crime enthusiast fantasized about for their "entertainment" None of that happens here. O'Connell is scrupulous about including only fact, and then clearly saying that his perception of the event is X and he thinks that because of A.B, and C, but he can't know for sure. I loved that approach.
I need to mention one other thing -- O'Connell's interviews with Macarthur happened during Covid lockdown. It is very much a part of the story that both the author and the subject were starved for company and industry. This deep dive with a man whom O'Connell, seemingly quite rightly, often compares to Tom Ripley would likely not have happened in any other time. (The story here is quite different from Talented Mr. Ripley, but Macarthur's cold logical approach to achieving a set end, and the tragically illogical results that followed, are strikingly similar to the inner Ripley.)
In the end, O'Connell gets to some truly universal questions, some existential questions, and I found those questions very compelling. It is all pretty metaphysical. If the tree falls and you don't see it or hear it it still happened, but not to you. O'Connell is brilliant, interesting, and so thoughtful about the topic and his prose is just phenomenal.
I started out annoyed and a little bored with this book, but it ended up being an extremely thoughtful and compelling read that led me to think about many things including what happens if we bifurcate basic humanity from efficient problem-solving. (Something most of us do all the time and will do more with the rise of generative AI.) Recommended for sure.
I related this bit of film summary because, though this book pretty good, it is the author, Mark O'Connell who is at the center of it rather than the murderer Malcolm Macarthur who murdered two people in 1982 and was released from prison just before Covid lockdown.
O'Connell shares many reasons for his fascination with Macarthur. He goes on for a bit about Macarthur's "aristocratic forehead" his foppish hair, his bearing and gait and how as a result Macarthur does not "look like a murderer." This was not an auspicious start. Do murderers have darker skin? Do they have the aged skin of a laborer who works outside? Are they poorly dressed or groomed? To O'Connell apparently the answer to questions like that is "yes." I do understand that O'Connell is grappling with the idea that murderers may look and act like him. Trinity educated men with money and consequent leisure (this is a central topic throughout the book) who travel through life acquiring knowledge to no particular end and consorting with other men of this ilk. It is a potentially interesting topic for a memoir. This though is not supposed to be memoir. O'Connell does not share enough of himself for this to work as a memoir, and shares too much of himself for this to be reportage. I know that lines between genres get greyer and greyer all the time, often to wonderful effect but here, because O'Connell leans into his own life so hard, the first 25% of the book was not at all about the crime or its impact, After that first quarter O'Connell began to blend self examination with the examination of the crime, its victims (not just those murdered, but all the others who felt its impact) and the murderer himself.
I liked that in the portions where O'Connell is actually talking with Macarthur he did keep that journalistic distance. He made clear that his observations were not fact, but rather perception. This is something that is very rarely done in true crime, and one of the reasons I rarely read true crime. One other thing I liked was the distance maintained in discussing the crime itself. True crime is often revoltingly lurid. It tries to put you THERE as the crimes happen. Firstly, who wants to be there? Secondly, it purports to be fact but is pure fiction. No one knows what happened in the course of most crimes, if there were witnesses there would be little mystery to write about. True crime books often falsely purport to tell you what the victims are thinking and feeling in the moment but provide instead what some true crime enthusiast fantasized about for their "entertainment" None of that happens here. O'Connell is scrupulous about including only fact, and then clearly saying that his perception of the event is X and he thinks that because of A.B, and C, but he can't know for sure. I loved that approach.
I need to mention one other thing -- O'Connell's interviews with Macarthur happened during Covid lockdown. It is very much a part of the story that both the author and the subject were starved for company and industry. This deep dive with a man whom O'Connell, seemingly quite rightly, often compares to Tom Ripley would likely not have happened in any other time. (The story here is quite different from Talented Mr. Ripley, but Macarthur's cold logical approach to achieving a set end, and the tragically illogical results that followed, are strikingly similar to the inner Ripley.)
In the end, O'Connell gets to some truly universal questions, some existential questions, and I found those questions very compelling. It is all pretty metaphysical. If the tree falls and you don't see it or hear it it still happened, but not to you. O'Connell is brilliant, interesting, and so thoughtful about the topic and his prose is just phenomenal.
I started out annoyed and a little bored with this book, but it ended up being an extremely thoughtful and compelling read that led me to think about many things including what happens if we bifurcate basic humanity from efficient problem-solving. (Something most of us do all the time and will do more with the rise of generative AI.) Recommended for sure.
February 6, 2024
Winner of the Non Fiction Book of the Year at the @anpostirishbookawards, A Thread of Violence is the meticulously researched story of Malcolm Macarthur, the notorious aristocratic double murderer, as told by Macarthur to O’Connell in conversation over a period of two years.
In 1982, Macarthur murdered nurse Bridie Gargan and farmer Donal Dunne in separate incidents over the course of a few days, and in an extraordinary turn of events, was eventually arrested at the home of the then-attorney general Patrick Connolly, almost bringing down the government of the time led by Charles Haughey.
Years later following Macarthur’s release from prison, O’Connell approached him in the street with a view to speaking to the infamous murderer about his life. Macarthur agreed to talk to O’Connell, and the result is this compelling read.
The book makes for deeply unsettling reading at times, and O’Connell frequently acknowledges this and reminds us of the victims whose lives were cruelly snuffed out by Macarthur for no better reason than Macarthur wanted to solve his financial difficulties so that he would be able to continue to pursue his intellectual pursuits unimpeded.
Macarthur is a narcissistic, delusional, chameleon-like character, who was untouchable in his aristocratic mannerisms and persona such that he hid in plain sight.
O’Connell inserts himself into the narrative throughout which might irk some readers but serves to illustrate a few things:
Ireland is tiny and we are all never more than a few degrees removed from one another, whether we like it or not; and O’Connell’s drawing out of the almost fabled character that is Macarthur through their lengthy conversations facilitate the reveal of a murderer who is despite his protestations to the contrary, a remorseless and pathetic man whose disregard for human life knew no bounds and whose passivity in his heinous crimes should be deplored.
A pacey, engaging true crime read that also offers interesting insights into the prevailing winds of the time in 1980s Ireland. Recommended. 4/5⭐️
In 1982, Macarthur murdered nurse Bridie Gargan and farmer Donal Dunne in separate incidents over the course of a few days, and in an extraordinary turn of events, was eventually arrested at the home of the then-attorney general Patrick Connolly, almost bringing down the government of the time led by Charles Haughey.
Years later following Macarthur’s release from prison, O’Connell approached him in the street with a view to speaking to the infamous murderer about his life. Macarthur agreed to talk to O’Connell, and the result is this compelling read.
The book makes for deeply unsettling reading at times, and O’Connell frequently acknowledges this and reminds us of the victims whose lives were cruelly snuffed out by Macarthur for no better reason than Macarthur wanted to solve his financial difficulties so that he would be able to continue to pursue his intellectual pursuits unimpeded.
Macarthur is a narcissistic, delusional, chameleon-like character, who was untouchable in his aristocratic mannerisms and persona such that he hid in plain sight.
O’Connell inserts himself into the narrative throughout which might irk some readers but serves to illustrate a few things:
Ireland is tiny and we are all never more than a few degrees removed from one another, whether we like it or not; and O’Connell’s drawing out of the almost fabled character that is Macarthur through their lengthy conversations facilitate the reveal of a murderer who is despite his protestations to the contrary, a remorseless and pathetic man whose disregard for human life knew no bounds and whose passivity in his heinous crimes should be deplored.
A pacey, engaging true crime read that also offers interesting insights into the prevailing winds of the time in 1980s Ireland. Recommended. 4/5⭐️
September 16, 2023
GUBU—an acronym for "grotesque, unusual, bizarre, and unprecedented"—is a term that entered the Irish cultural lexicon in the 1980s in the wake of a series of horrific crimes that almost brought down the government of the time. Malcolm MacArthur—a bow-tie-sporting, would-be-intellectual with an Anglo-Irish accent and a lifestyle that outstretched his means—murdered two people as part of a cock-eyed bank robbery scheme, but his arrest in the home of Ireland's then Attorney General put paid to that. The fall-out from all of this created a media sensation, so much so that even though I wasn't alive at the time of the murders I do remember hearing about them growing up.
In A Thread of Violence, Mark O'Connell tries to both unpack what happened in the summer of 1982 and, through a series of conversations with MacArthur, to come to a better understanding of why he did what he did. In showing the contexts which shaped MacArthur's life and the public response to his crimes, O'Connell is successful; in his grapplings with MacArthur himself, he is less so. MacArthur's aesthetic quirks and the faded glamour of his landed gentry background helped to give his case a sordid allure—as O'Connell points out more than once, no one would have fixated on what happened so much if MacArthur had been from the Dublin inner city—and a sense that there must be something complex, sophisticated, multi-layered there to figure out. But I don't think it's that hard to understand what happened, at least on an intellectual level: MacArthur was raised with an over-weening sense of entitlement and class privilege, and when he no longer had the money to enable the life of leisure he felt he deserved, he lashed out in anger. Bridie Gargan and Donal Dunne just happened to be the people in his way when he did so. Sociopaths aren't that complicated, no matter how much pop culture might push us to believe otherwise. MacArthur is fairly banal, but O'Connell doesn't seem able to let himself accept that.
Then again, he does have a book to sell.
I might be somewhat less cynical about that aspect of things if O'Connell's musings on the interconnections between fiction and reality, and the impossibility of truly knowing or reconstructing things which happened in the past hadn't been so... well, at the "bright undergraduate" level. Critiquing the Rankean wie es eigentlich gewesen ist stance isn't exactly what you'd call new at this point.
In A Thread of Violence, Mark O'Connell tries to both unpack what happened in the summer of 1982 and, through a series of conversations with MacArthur, to come to a better understanding of why he did what he did. In showing the contexts which shaped MacArthur's life and the public response to his crimes, O'Connell is successful; in his grapplings with MacArthur himself, he is less so. MacArthur's aesthetic quirks and the faded glamour of his landed gentry background helped to give his case a sordid allure—as O'Connell points out more than once, no one would have fixated on what happened so much if MacArthur had been from the Dublin inner city—and a sense that there must be something complex, sophisticated, multi-layered there to figure out. But I don't think it's that hard to understand what happened, at least on an intellectual level: MacArthur was raised with an over-weening sense of entitlement and class privilege, and when he no longer had the money to enable the life of leisure he felt he deserved, he lashed out in anger. Bridie Gargan and Donal Dunne just happened to be the people in his way when he did so. Sociopaths aren't that complicated, no matter how much pop culture might push us to believe otherwise. MacArthur is fairly banal, but O'Connell doesn't seem able to let himself accept that.
Then again, he does have a book to sell.
I might be somewhat less cynical about that aspect of things if O'Connell's musings on the interconnections between fiction and reality, and the impossibility of truly knowing or reconstructing things which happened in the past hadn't been so... well, at the "bright undergraduate" level. Critiquing the Rankean wie es eigentlich gewesen ist stance isn't exactly what you'd call new at this point.
July 7, 2023
O’Connell is a good writer. This book engaged me, it is well written, so that is always a treat. It made me think and it also pissed me off.
O’Connell wanted “reasons” or an explanation for the horror that is MM( I won’t give him the benefit of writing his name) and the horror he inflicted. He therefore wasted months and hundreds of hours talking and “interviewing “ this vapid sociopath only to realise that MM would never divulge the “truth” of his dead dead soul. What O’Connell refuses to recognise is that MM divulged his soul with a hammer in the back seat of a car and a shotgun shot in the face in a faraway field. There is nothing else to see here, folks.
But empathetic/ typical brains want to think there is some driving force that turns a mediocre man into a monster. No, he was never just a shy, lonely weird boy, he was always a parasite and still is. People just want to be fooled by these zombies pretending to be men. And in some ways, I think O”Connell let himself be fooled. He played MM’s game.
What did O’Connell think? That by engaging with this empty person, MM would suddenly feel free to speak authentically about what MM termed “the criminal episode”. I would have walked out immediately on hearing the term. But O’Connell is a curious soul and maybe has an inflated confidence in his own abilities. Hmm. Who knows? But it showed up as ill considered in my view and pandering to a sociopath’s ego. Creepy.
There is no “truth” or realisation available to this 2 dimensional, rather dim-witted individual. A nerd who tries to be “superior” to others and unleashes HORROR in service of his flimsy sense of worth.
I say dim witted because he has the self-awareness of a placemat, a corresponding lack of curiosity, and an equal lack of integrity to engage authentically with the pimple he is on the human species’ arse.
And let’s not talk about the “brains” he exhibited in his delusional plan and chaotic streak of violence. Puhlese,
I am annoyed at o’Connell and the rest of society/media/ social commentators who described MM as intelligent, urbane, sophisticated, taking his upper class upbringing as somehow noteworthy. What is noteworthy is the perfect articulation MM is of the utter corruption that is the class system, and the utter failure of that system to produce thinking persons. Intelligence is more than being able to be erudite about some scientific subjects. In MM’s case, critical thinking is entirely missing.
MM was an actor, empty of soul and full of artifice, bow ties, friends in high places, unearned wealth, and library membership. Devoid of a capacity to think of anyone or anything except his needs. And boy, did he succeed in taking everyone in. In a world where superficiality is king.MM was in his milieu.
MM may have uttered the words”I killed them” but has never taken responsibility, in my view. What is missing in all of these interviews is HORROR. MM is never HORRIFIED.
And in the absence of that, what O’Connell serves up is another perfect example of the banality of evil.
Well worth the read, if only to witness how the “typical” human brain refuses to fathom the cold, black space that is the malignant narcissist, sociopath, and psychopath. Applying the same rules of logic that one would apply to an empathetic person does not apply here.
O’Connell wanted “reasons” or an explanation for the horror that is MM( I won’t give him the benefit of writing his name) and the horror he inflicted. He therefore wasted months and hundreds of hours talking and “interviewing “ this vapid sociopath only to realise that MM would never divulge the “truth” of his dead dead soul. What O’Connell refuses to recognise is that MM divulged his soul with a hammer in the back seat of a car and a shotgun shot in the face in a faraway field. There is nothing else to see here, folks.
But empathetic/ typical brains want to think there is some driving force that turns a mediocre man into a monster. No, he was never just a shy, lonely weird boy, he was always a parasite and still is. People just want to be fooled by these zombies pretending to be men. And in some ways, I think O”Connell let himself be fooled. He played MM’s game.
What did O’Connell think? That by engaging with this empty person, MM would suddenly feel free to speak authentically about what MM termed “the criminal episode”. I would have walked out immediately on hearing the term. But O’Connell is a curious soul and maybe has an inflated confidence in his own abilities. Hmm. Who knows? But it showed up as ill considered in my view and pandering to a sociopath’s ego. Creepy.
There is no “truth” or realisation available to this 2 dimensional, rather dim-witted individual. A nerd who tries to be “superior” to others and unleashes HORROR in service of his flimsy sense of worth.
I say dim witted because he has the self-awareness of a placemat, a corresponding lack of curiosity, and an equal lack of integrity to engage authentically with the pimple he is on the human species’ arse.
And let’s not talk about the “brains” he exhibited in his delusional plan and chaotic streak of violence. Puhlese,
I am annoyed at o’Connell and the rest of society/media/ social commentators who described MM as intelligent, urbane, sophisticated, taking his upper class upbringing as somehow noteworthy. What is noteworthy is the perfect articulation MM is of the utter corruption that is the class system, and the utter failure of that system to produce thinking persons. Intelligence is more than being able to be erudite about some scientific subjects. In MM’s case, critical thinking is entirely missing.
MM was an actor, empty of soul and full of artifice, bow ties, friends in high places, unearned wealth, and library membership. Devoid of a capacity to think of anyone or anything except his needs. And boy, did he succeed in taking everyone in. In a world where superficiality is king.MM was in his milieu.
MM may have uttered the words”I killed them” but has never taken responsibility, in my view. What is missing in all of these interviews is HORROR. MM is never HORRIFIED.
And in the absence of that, what O’Connell serves up is another perfect example of the banality of evil.
Well worth the read, if only to witness how the “typical” human brain refuses to fathom the cold, black space that is the malignant narcissist, sociopath, and psychopath. Applying the same rules of logic that one would apply to an empathetic person does not apply here.
August 26, 2024
"A NEW YORK TIMES AND ECONOMIST BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR • From the award-winning author comes the gripping tale of one of the most scandalous murderers in modern Irish history, at once a propulsive work of true crime and an act of literary subversion.
“A masterpiece”—The Observer • “Disturbing [and] compelling”—Colm Toíbín • “Superb and unforgettable"—Sally Rooney • “Brilliant”—New York Times Book Review • “A masterly work”—John Banville • “Fascinating”—Emmanuel Carrère • “Morally complex and mesmerizing”—Fintan O'Toole"
Me: "Generally good."
The crimes are heinous. A young woman is beaten to death with a hammer in a carjacking gone bad. A young man is killed by a shotgun blast to the head in an attempt to steal the victim's gun (the shotgun used to kill him).
The murderer is apprehended at the home of Ireland's Attorney General.
The murderer is a member of Ireland's upper class. He confesses to the killing of the young woman and avoids trial. He receives a life sentence and spends the next 30 years in prison and is released.
By all accounts the murderer is a gentle, polite man before and after the crimes. He squandered a large inheritance and conceived of robbing a bank to ease his money woes. (This is the very abridged version.)
The crimes occurred in 1982 within a few days time and caused a sensation in Ireland. (I was completely unfamiliar with the story then and before I read the book.)
None of these items are spoilers.
The author has a tenuous connection to the murderer because the arrest took place in the complex where his grandparents lived at the time; and his PhD was based on John Banville's fictionalized trilogy of the murderer. When the murderer is released from prison the author periodically sees him out and about and ultimately wants to write an account of what happened in the lead up to the crimes and what motivated the man to commit the crimes. In essence: who is this man?
I won't say whether the author succeeded but I thought he approached the subject honestly and worked hard to achieve his goal. The crimes are adequately described but not sensationalized. This is mostly a human study rather than a crime procedural. The author had full access to his subject and met with him many times in person and by telephone so there isn't a lot of speculation. The challenge was to get the subject to answer the queries honestly. I'll leave it at that.
One item at the very end felt incredibly obvious and clumsy to me
“A masterpiece”—The Observer • “Disturbing [and] compelling”—Colm Toíbín • “Superb and unforgettable"—Sally Rooney • “Brilliant”—New York Times Book Review • “A masterly work”—John Banville • “Fascinating”—Emmanuel Carrère • “Morally complex and mesmerizing”—Fintan O'Toole"
Me: "Generally good."
The crimes are heinous. A young woman is beaten to death with a hammer in a carjacking gone bad. A young man is killed by a shotgun blast to the head in an attempt to steal the victim's gun (the shotgun used to kill him).
The murderer is apprehended at the home of Ireland's Attorney General.
The murderer is a member of Ireland's upper class. He confesses to the killing of the young woman and avoids trial. He receives a life sentence and spends the next 30 years in prison and is released.
By all accounts the murderer is a gentle, polite man before and after the crimes. He squandered a large inheritance and conceived of robbing a bank to ease his money woes. (This is the very abridged version.)
The crimes occurred in 1982 within a few days time and caused a sensation in Ireland. (I was completely unfamiliar with the story then and before I read the book.)
None of these items are spoilers.
The author has a tenuous connection to the murderer because the arrest took place in the complex where his grandparents lived at the time; and his PhD was based on John Banville's fictionalized trilogy of the murderer. When the murderer is released from prison the author periodically sees him out and about and ultimately wants to write an account of what happened in the lead up to the crimes and what motivated the man to commit the crimes. In essence: who is this man?
I won't say whether the author succeeded but I thought he approached the subject honestly and worked hard to achieve his goal. The crimes are adequately described but not sensationalized. This is mostly a human study rather than a crime procedural. The author had full access to his subject and met with him many times in person and by telephone so there isn't a lot of speculation. The challenge was to get the subject to answer the queries honestly. I'll leave it at that.
One item at the very end felt incredibly obvious and clumsy to me
December 29, 2023
technically perfect but still question the impact of "true crime"...
July 19, 2023
Didn't think I was going to like this as much as I did (considering the context of talking to one of the most notorious killers in recent Irish history), but it was really well written, and O'Connell displayed good compassionate towards the victims and their families without glorifying MM.
August 13, 2023
Absolutely loved it. A really well-researched and personable account of a bizarre and pointless double murder in 80s Ireland. Inevitable comparisons to In Cold Blood will abound I am sure, but in my view this is a far superior book. 5 stars.
November 6, 2023
I found Malcolm Macarthur much less compelling than the author evidently did.
January 29, 2024
Starting this book, with O'Connell mentioning how many times he has run into Macarthur in Dublin - I immediately remembered running into Michael Peterson (Staircase Murders, anyone?) in Durham at the Harris Teeter. It's strange to find yourself within arm's length of a convicted murderer. (Michael Peterson was buying several cases of diet coke, in case you're wondering.)
What I found most compelling about A Thread of Violence was O'Connell's inner turmoil on spending so much time with Malcolm Macarthur, in-person and on the phone at night after putting his daughter to bed. It's clear that Macarthur was lonely and spending so many hours with O'Connell; to him, it felt like the beginning of a real friendship. It made me wonder at where the line is and if O'Connell, with this struggle, was able to maintain a facade of friendliness and professionalism, without ever letting Macarthur truly in. For me, I don't think it would be possible to spend so many hours with anyone and not be genuine (i.e., I think I would be friends with this convicted murderer during a year of conversations, or not be able to talk to him at all - for me, there could be no middle ground). It also sparked questions for me, of are we the people we surround ourselves with? Is it possible to genuinely love and be friends with a murderer (and I mean, post-murder - you didn't know this person pre-murder) who has not shown any remorse? Does it make you a better or worse person if you are able to transcend their past in this way?
To be honest, I found the pursuit of these questions more interesting than the actual book, which felt limited in that it doesn't seem to bring a lot "new" to the story. Macarthur has apparently not really engaged the press previously, so access to his voice is new - but O'Connell does not seem to be able to tap him for more in any interesting capacity. Also, I'm not from Dublin, this isn't a historically interesting case to me, and while his upper-class life led to some interesting paths in the crimes (one example: he didn't know how to get a gun, had only interacted with guns as part of his hunting/pigeon shooting upper-class past-times, so goes to these types of events in order to snag a gun), it wasn't that compelling of a story (to me). 2 stars.
What I found most compelling about A Thread of Violence was O'Connell's inner turmoil on spending so much time with Malcolm Macarthur, in-person and on the phone at night after putting his daughter to bed. It's clear that Macarthur was lonely and spending so many hours with O'Connell; to him, it felt like the beginning of a real friendship. It made me wonder at where the line is and if O'Connell, with this struggle, was able to maintain a facade of friendliness and professionalism, without ever letting Macarthur truly in. For me, I don't think it would be possible to spend so many hours with anyone and not be genuine (i.e., I think I would be friends with this convicted murderer during a year of conversations, or not be able to talk to him at all - for me, there could be no middle ground). It also sparked questions for me, of are we the people we surround ourselves with? Is it possible to genuinely love and be friends with a murderer (and I mean, post-murder - you didn't know this person pre-murder) who has not shown any remorse? Does it make you a better or worse person if you are able to transcend their past in this way?
To be honest, I found the pursuit of these questions more interesting than the actual book, which felt limited in that it doesn't seem to bring a lot "new" to the story. Macarthur has apparently not really engaged the press previously, so access to his voice is new - but O'Connell does not seem to be able to tap him for more in any interesting capacity. Also, I'm not from Dublin, this isn't a historically interesting case to me, and while his upper-class life led to some interesting paths in the crimes (one example: he didn't know how to get a gun, had only interacted with guns as part of his hunting/pigeon shooting upper-class past-times, so goes to these types of events in order to snag a gun), it wasn't that compelling of a story (to me). 2 stars.
April 4, 2024
This is the story of a notorious murder case in the Irish Republic back in 1982 of two people, which might seem nothing special in USA termas but was for Ireland then or even now,
was completely unknown, but what made the case a cause celebre was that the murderer was caught at the home of Ireland's Attorney general, a friend of his, where had been staying while a nationwide man hunt was going on. The murderer, Malcolm Macarthur was tried, found guilty and served nearly thirty years in prison. After his release the author of this book sought him out and had numerous meetings and discussions with Macarthur in attempt to understand how he came to murder two people.
I could spend hundreds, if not thousands, of words on explaining the background to this story but I recommend that you turn to The Dublin Review of Books and their of this book which provides an excellent summary of the murders and the background of the murderer (just Google Macarthur Dublin Review of Books - I'm not giving a link because I've had problems in the past). All I am going to do is to try and explain why this in many ways a thoughtful and excellent account fails in many respects.
I was no longer living in Ireland in 1982 but still close via visits and through family and friends to what was going on there. In Ireland, as in the UK, 1982 was significant because of how quickly things were changing, culturally and also economically and politically. As an illustration six years before my very middle class school had almost abandoned the traditional 'dinner dance' for final year students. We more moistly hippy types (pretty lame ones) but the idea of hiring dinner suits and the rest of the carry on was too absurd for words. By 1982, although living in London, I had been back to Dublin at least once if not twice in thee last few years to take younger sisters of school friends or family one to their 'Debs Dance' in lavish hotel ballrooms with boys in dinner jackets or white tie and tails while the girls were in ball gowns. These were not American Prom dances but imitation London debutante season dances c. 1958. Ireland was changing, just as the UK was changing, the full 80's yuppie, loads-of-money culture had not quite flowered yet but we were all preparing for it. Class and money were suddenly back in fashion as they had never been before.
Half the fascination with this murder and Macarthur was the fact that with bow-ties, linen and tweed jackets was an embodiment in style terms and in in actual descent of that faux landed gentry style that Diana Spencer had made universal on her marriage to the Prince of Wales a year before. Of course there was a great deal of faux in Macarthur's landed gentry background - it was not as deep or extensive or real as his clothes and mannerisms suggested but his ersatz class was sufficient to mark him out as extraordinary in Ireland in 1982. (I would insist again on the value of anyone with real interest going to the DRB review mentioned earlier. Only in the light of it will many of my remarks make sense or be understood).
What nobody could understand is why Macarthur committed the murders, although there was a reason, it had to do with money, or his attempts to replenish his nearly exhausted inheritance, it didn't seem sufficient. Macarthur was not violent, had never previously committed a crime, suffered no standard pathologies or fit no established diagnostic categories of mental illness except it seemed impossible for an ordinary sane person to go off and brutally murder to strangers in the pursuit a fairly hair brained scheme for acquiring wealth). This is where Mark O'Connell's book fails - he provides masses of information and background and family history but at no point does the reasons for the crime come into focus. It reminded me of 'In Cold Blood' where the reasons for the dreadful massacre at the Cutler ranch become lost and irrelevant in the tale of the two murderers. Unfortunately this failure leaves a huge hole at the centre of O'Connell's book which although he tries to fill it in other, sometimes interesting, ways remains the elephant in the room.
I think the reason for O'Connell's failure to get at the heart of the story is his personal investment in it. The problem is we probably wouldn't have what we do have if that personal involvement hadn't existed. The detached, hard bitten, cynical Fleet Street approach doesn't work anymore people like Macarthur know their importance. This symbiotic relationship between the author and his subject leads to compromises where subjects are avoided, downplayed or ignored. Although O'Connell admits to some of these restrictions and evasions, others are not. I find it extraordinary that he did not question Macarthur about his friend Patrick Connolly, the Attorney General in whose flat he was captured and whose career he ruined, leaving Macarthur's wife £100,00 and his son £75,000. It elevates their friendship into a subject worthy of further inquiry I would have thought.
O'Connell also fails to pick up on some very glaring inconsistencies in Macarthur's story of his childhood. Most particularly that he was supposed to attend the English public (i.e. private) school Beadles in 1953. This is very odd because Beadles was then, and still is a very unconventional private school and not the sort of place chosen by horsey, catholic farming families with gentry pretentions. To have sent their son to a non Catholic school would have been quite a scandal at the time (this was twenty years before Beadles would acquire the cachet of being a school attended by Princess Margaret's children).
As it was Macarthur didn't attend Beadles because money was tight so he went to the local Christian Brothers school. It never occurs to O'connell to question why Macarthur wasn't sent to an Irish boarding school which would have cost only a fraction of English boarding school cost (even today the boarding school I attended, a fairly grand but the grandest of Irish private schools, costs barely a third of what UK boarding school would cost). Was money so tight that a family with pretensions to social status (and his parents were very status conscious) could not afford any kind of proper school for their only child?
The points I raise are minor but significant because they suggest an unwillingness to get to grips with hard, perhaps unfriendly or even rude, questions and issues. If you are going to avoid such questions about a man's education how can we trust that you will push for answers on more difficult topics? Maybe the answers would not have forthcoming, maybe the project would have been aborted but I can't help feeling uneasy that an opportunity was lost because compromises, many unacknowledged were made.
I have been hard on this book - it is fascinating and it has strengths but its weaknesses prevent from given more then three stars which for me is a compromised rating.
was completely unknown, but what made the case a cause celebre was that the murderer was caught at the home of Ireland's Attorney general, a friend of his, where had been staying while a nationwide man hunt was going on. The murderer, Malcolm Macarthur was tried, found guilty and served nearly thirty years in prison. After his release the author of this book sought him out and had numerous meetings and discussions with Macarthur in attempt to understand how he came to murder two people.
I could spend hundreds, if not thousands, of words on explaining the background to this story but I recommend that you turn to The Dublin Review of Books and their of this book which provides an excellent summary of the murders and the background of the murderer (just Google Macarthur Dublin Review of Books - I'm not giving a link because I've had problems in the past). All I am going to do is to try and explain why this in many ways a thoughtful and excellent account fails in many respects.
I was no longer living in Ireland in 1982 but still close via visits and through family and friends to what was going on there. In Ireland, as in the UK, 1982 was significant because of how quickly things were changing, culturally and also economically and politically. As an illustration six years before my very middle class school had almost abandoned the traditional 'dinner dance' for final year students. We more moistly hippy types (pretty lame ones) but the idea of hiring dinner suits and the rest of the carry on was too absurd for words. By 1982, although living in London, I had been back to Dublin at least once if not twice in thee last few years to take younger sisters of school friends or family one to their 'Debs Dance' in lavish hotel ballrooms with boys in dinner jackets or white tie and tails while the girls were in ball gowns. These were not American Prom dances but imitation London debutante season dances c. 1958. Ireland was changing, just as the UK was changing, the full 80's yuppie, loads-of-money culture had not quite flowered yet but we were all preparing for it. Class and money were suddenly back in fashion as they had never been before.
Half the fascination with this murder and Macarthur was the fact that with bow-ties, linen and tweed jackets was an embodiment in style terms and in in actual descent of that faux landed gentry style that Diana Spencer had made universal on her marriage to the Prince of Wales a year before. Of course there was a great deal of faux in Macarthur's landed gentry background - it was not as deep or extensive or real as his clothes and mannerisms suggested but his ersatz class was sufficient to mark him out as extraordinary in Ireland in 1982. (I would insist again on the value of anyone with real interest going to the DRB review mentioned earlier. Only in the light of it will many of my remarks make sense or be understood).
What nobody could understand is why Macarthur committed the murders, although there was a reason, it had to do with money, or his attempts to replenish his nearly exhausted inheritance, it didn't seem sufficient. Macarthur was not violent, had never previously committed a crime, suffered no standard pathologies or fit no established diagnostic categories of mental illness except it seemed impossible for an ordinary sane person to go off and brutally murder to strangers in the pursuit a fairly hair brained scheme for acquiring wealth). This is where Mark O'Connell's book fails - he provides masses of information and background and family history but at no point does the reasons for the crime come into focus. It reminded me of 'In Cold Blood' where the reasons for the dreadful massacre at the Cutler ranch become lost and irrelevant in the tale of the two murderers. Unfortunately this failure leaves a huge hole at the centre of O'Connell's book which although he tries to fill it in other, sometimes interesting, ways remains the elephant in the room.
I think the reason for O'Connell's failure to get at the heart of the story is his personal investment in it. The problem is we probably wouldn't have what we do have if that personal involvement hadn't existed. The detached, hard bitten, cynical Fleet Street approach doesn't work anymore people like Macarthur know their importance. This symbiotic relationship between the author and his subject leads to compromises where subjects are avoided, downplayed or ignored. Although O'Connell admits to some of these restrictions and evasions, others are not. I find it extraordinary that he did not question Macarthur about his friend Patrick Connolly, the Attorney General in whose flat he was captured and whose career he ruined, leaving Macarthur's wife £100,00 and his son £75,000. It elevates their friendship into a subject worthy of further inquiry I would have thought.
O'Connell also fails to pick up on some very glaring inconsistencies in Macarthur's story of his childhood. Most particularly that he was supposed to attend the English public (i.e. private) school Beadles in 1953. This is very odd because Beadles was then, and still is a very unconventional private school and not the sort of place chosen by horsey, catholic farming families with gentry pretentions. To have sent their son to a non Catholic school would have been quite a scandal at the time (this was twenty years before Beadles would acquire the cachet of being a school attended by Princess Margaret's children).
As it was Macarthur didn't attend Beadles because money was tight so he went to the local Christian Brothers school. It never occurs to O'connell to question why Macarthur wasn't sent to an Irish boarding school which would have cost only a fraction of English boarding school cost (even today the boarding school I attended, a fairly grand but the grandest of Irish private schools, costs barely a third of what UK boarding school would cost). Was money so tight that a family with pretensions to social status (and his parents were very status conscious) could not afford any kind of proper school for their only child?
The points I raise are minor but significant because they suggest an unwillingness to get to grips with hard, perhaps unfriendly or even rude, questions and issues. If you are going to avoid such questions about a man's education how can we trust that you will push for answers on more difficult topics? Maybe the answers would not have forthcoming, maybe the project would have been aborted but I can't help feeling uneasy that an opportunity was lost because compromises, many unacknowledged were made.
I have been hard on this book - it is fascinating and it has strengths but its weaknesses prevent from given more then three stars which for me is a compromised rating.
August 4, 2023
"Lucid insanity."
I'd first heard about Malcolm MacArthur on a boat tour that I did in early 2023 when the tour guide pointed out the apartment block where MacArthur was arrested.
Several months later, this book came out. Written by an author with my name, what a coincidence! I went to a book signing in Dublin because how could I pass up the chance? The author gave some wonderful insights into his time spent with MacArthur, and I was excited to read his full work on it.
The book is very well written, entertaining, and informative. I very much enjoyed reading the author's take on many of the topics broached and appreciated those moments he did call MacArthur out on his hypocrisies. I found MacArthur horribly frustrating just from reading his answers, I can't imagine having to sit and listen to this pompous, self-obsessed murderer for months on end so kudos to the author.
I would absolutely recommend this book to any and all Ireland-based readers!
I'd first heard about Malcolm MacArthur on a boat tour that I did in early 2023 when the tour guide pointed out the apartment block where MacArthur was arrested.
Several months later, this book came out. Written by an author with my name, what a coincidence! I went to a book signing in Dublin because how could I pass up the chance? The author gave some wonderful insights into his time spent with MacArthur, and I was excited to read his full work on it.
The book is very well written, entertaining, and informative. I very much enjoyed reading the author's take on many of the topics broached and appreciated those moments he did call MacArthur out on his hypocrisies. I found MacArthur horribly frustrating just from reading his answers, I can't imagine having to sit and listen to this pompous, self-obsessed murderer for months on end so kudos to the author.
I would absolutely recommend this book to any and all Ireland-based readers!
August 26, 2023
The story of Macarthur's murders is well-told, but it's the aftermath and Macarthur's reckoning with it, and the author's, that made this reader uneasy. O'Connell says himself, "But what is it I'm doing here? Why do I want to make so much of Macarthur's early life? The most obvious answer is that I want his crimes to make sense... to make him add up, to balance his life like an equation. What I want is narrative coherence" (106-7).
I'm not certain that he should have hoped for or expected this kind of coherence with a subject whose motives and inner life seem so hidden. Although Macarthur lives an intellectual life of observation and engagement with philosophical topics - reading voraciously and attending lectures about history and literature and science after his release from incarceration - he seems strangely distanced from his crimes, emotionally remote and speaking about them in a passive voice or even with a disembodied "you" pronoun. O'Connell acknowledges all of this yet, I think, is unable to reach Macarthur's core. Expecting a Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment, he concludes that "In failing to confront the awful enormity of his sins - in failing to be annihilated by it - Macarthur had failed me as a character. He had denied me the satisfaction of an ending" (266). For an author who wrote extensively about fiction as a student, including about the novels of Irish author John Banville which were based on Macarthur, this had to be very disappointing, and I admit to a twinge of disappointment myself. Although this is a very well-written, interesting character study, and a horrifying account of the crimes that destroyed two families, it's anticlimactic. There's not a lot of resolution (and certainly no atonement) for a character who is, ultimately, elusive to both writer and reader.
I'm not certain that he should have hoped for or expected this kind of coherence with a subject whose motives and inner life seem so hidden. Although Macarthur lives an intellectual life of observation and engagement with philosophical topics - reading voraciously and attending lectures about history and literature and science after his release from incarceration - he seems strangely distanced from his crimes, emotionally remote and speaking about them in a passive voice or even with a disembodied "you" pronoun. O'Connell acknowledges all of this yet, I think, is unable to reach Macarthur's core. Expecting a Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment, he concludes that "In failing to confront the awful enormity of his sins - in failing to be annihilated by it - Macarthur had failed me as a character. He had denied me the satisfaction of an ending" (266). For an author who wrote extensively about fiction as a student, including about the novels of Irish author John Banville which were based on Macarthur, this had to be very disappointing, and I admit to a twinge of disappointment myself. Although this is a very well-written, interesting character study, and a horrifying account of the crimes that destroyed two families, it's anticlimactic. There's not a lot of resolution (and certainly no atonement) for a character who is, ultimately, elusive to both writer and reader.
February 17, 2024
Bij het openen van dit boek krijg je meteen 2 bladzijden vol lovende woorden voorgeschoteld. Erg positieve recensies van oa The New York Times, The Observer, The Guardian en een aantal auteurs, allen zijn één en al lof over dit briljante meesterwerk. Dat mijn verwachtingen daardoor ook meteen wolkenkrabberhoge proporties aannam vond ik dan een tikje riskant. Benieuwd of ‘Een spoor van geweld’ ze kon inlossen?
Wie de Netflixserie ‘Mindhunter’ kent zal bij het lezen van dit boek een gelijkaardig gevoel krijgen. Mark O’Connell probeert namelijk te begrijpen waarom socialite Malcom Macarthur 2 onschuldige mensen van het leven beroofde om zijn eigen financiële situatie opnieuw stabiel te krijgen. ‘Mindhunter’ vond ik een fantastische serie omdat ze de beweegredenen en psyche van enkele seriemoordenaars/psychopaten probeerden te doorgronden. Ed Kemper is er eentje die ik niet snel zal vergeten.
Anyway, de naam Malcom Macarthur doet bij velen waarschijnlijk niet direct een belletje rinkelen. Macarthur vermoordde in 1982 in Dublin 2 jonge mensen. Zijn hoofddoel was een bankoverval, maar hij wilde voornamelijk tijd en vrijheid 'kopen'. 30 jaar later heeft Macarthur zijn straf uitgezeten en raakt de auteur nog meer gefascineerd door zijn personage. In ‘Een spoor van geweld’ probeert O’Connell de grote waarom-vraag te begrijpen maar voornamelijk te achterhalen of Macarthur een ijskoude leugenaar is, een extreme narcist of eerder verblind door eigenbelang.
Dit boek is een pareltje (in hoeverre je dat mag zeggen over een true crime boek) voor de true crime liefhebber. O’Connell ging meermaals in dialoog met Macarthur en maakte er vervolgens dit bijzonder verslag van. Maar wat schrijft O’Connell eigenlijk? De waarheid of eerder een variant op de waarheid? Je kan immers niet in het hoofd kruipen van een moordenaar.
Ik vond het mooi van de auteur om ook het nodige respect te hebben voor nabestaanden en slachtoffers. Hij geeft ook aan daar zelf mee te worstelen. Je wil een moordenaar volgens mij niet die aandacht geven, dat verdienen ze niet. Dit is iets wat ik vaak veracht in Netflixseries, waar het enige doel is om zoveel mogelijk winst en sensatie te maken, denk maar aan de serie over Jeffrey Dahmer. Tegelijkertijd wil ik niet hypocriet zijn want ik ben zelf mateloos gefascineerd door laat ons zeggen ‘people of the worst kind’, maar het is het grote ‘waarom’ en hoe zo iemand ‘gevormd’ kan worden dat mij interesseert. Waar(om) liep het zo fout?
We zullen het wat Macarthur betreft waarschijnlijk nooit weten, maar dichter bij de waarheid en beweegredenen kom je volgens mij niet.
“Een vastberaden einddoel. Heldere krankzinnigheid.”
Wie de Netflixserie ‘Mindhunter’ kent zal bij het lezen van dit boek een gelijkaardig gevoel krijgen. Mark O’Connell probeert namelijk te begrijpen waarom socialite Malcom Macarthur 2 onschuldige mensen van het leven beroofde om zijn eigen financiële situatie opnieuw stabiel te krijgen. ‘Mindhunter’ vond ik een fantastische serie omdat ze de beweegredenen en psyche van enkele seriemoordenaars/psychopaten probeerden te doorgronden. Ed Kemper is er eentje die ik niet snel zal vergeten.
Anyway, de naam Malcom Macarthur doet bij velen waarschijnlijk niet direct een belletje rinkelen. Macarthur vermoordde in 1982 in Dublin 2 jonge mensen. Zijn hoofddoel was een bankoverval, maar hij wilde voornamelijk tijd en vrijheid 'kopen'. 30 jaar later heeft Macarthur zijn straf uitgezeten en raakt de auteur nog meer gefascineerd door zijn personage. In ‘Een spoor van geweld’ probeert O’Connell de grote waarom-vraag te begrijpen maar voornamelijk te achterhalen of Macarthur een ijskoude leugenaar is, een extreme narcist of eerder verblind door eigenbelang.
Dit boek is een pareltje (in hoeverre je dat mag zeggen over een true crime boek) voor de true crime liefhebber. O’Connell ging meermaals in dialoog met Macarthur en maakte er vervolgens dit bijzonder verslag van. Maar wat schrijft O’Connell eigenlijk? De waarheid of eerder een variant op de waarheid? Je kan immers niet in het hoofd kruipen van een moordenaar.
Ik vond het mooi van de auteur om ook het nodige respect te hebben voor nabestaanden en slachtoffers. Hij geeft ook aan daar zelf mee te worstelen. Je wil een moordenaar volgens mij niet die aandacht geven, dat verdienen ze niet. Dit is iets wat ik vaak veracht in Netflixseries, waar het enige doel is om zoveel mogelijk winst en sensatie te maken, denk maar aan de serie over Jeffrey Dahmer. Tegelijkertijd wil ik niet hypocriet zijn want ik ben zelf mateloos gefascineerd door laat ons zeggen ‘people of the worst kind’, maar het is het grote ‘waarom’ en hoe zo iemand ‘gevormd’ kan worden dat mij interesseert. Waar(om) liep het zo fout?
We zullen het wat Macarthur betreft waarschijnlijk nooit weten, maar dichter bij de waarheid en beweegredenen kom je volgens mij niet.
“Een vastberaden einddoel. Heldere krankzinnigheid.”
February 25, 2024
I was unaware of the notoriety of aristocratic, double-murderer Malcolm McArthur. So I came to this true crime book pretty naive about these events. I found the first half of the book to go by quickly, as I was very interested in a new-to-me crime story and getting all the behind-the-scenes information. However, after that I just got really bored and was ready for it to end. The trial itself was also anti-climactic because McArthur pled guilty. For the most part the book was well-written. The author certainly inserts his own internal dialogue, which was less interesting, and often redundant. He seemed as significant as his subject. ...Still, I'd say if you know nothing of this case and want to read about a TRUE SOCIOPATH, then give this book a go.
August 7, 2023
An amazing page turner - best thing to have on hand when you are stuck in bed with the flu*!
Unlike other reviewers, I actually enjoyed best the parts where O'Connell writes about his experience, thoughts and extensive hair-brained plans to intercept Malcolm Macarthur. I thought the balance was needed to what was otherwise quite a bleak, and honestly monstrous character.
The book also made me realise that I have more of a moral leaning towards punishment then I expected. Despite him serving 30y in prison, and acting like an outstanding inmate, I found his lack of remorse by referring to his murders as an episode unforgiving. Maybe I'm expressing my own working class frustrations here as it's obviously the only way in which he could cope with the consequences of his actions.
*Flu addled brain not needed to enjoy this.
Unlike other reviewers, I actually enjoyed best the parts where O'Connell writes about his experience, thoughts and extensive hair-brained plans to intercept Malcolm Macarthur. I thought the balance was needed to what was otherwise quite a bleak, and honestly monstrous character.
The book also made me realise that I have more of a moral leaning towards punishment then I expected. Despite him serving 30y in prison, and acting like an outstanding inmate, I found his lack of remorse by referring to his murders as an episode unforgiving. Maybe I'm expressing my own working class frustrations here as it's obviously the only way in which he could cope with the consequences of his actions.
*Flu addled brain not needed to enjoy this.
September 23, 2023
Didn't enjoy the book as much as I thought. I feel the author had the intention of writing a book about McArthur when McArthur himself didn't reveal too much, was forced to pad the book out with subjective commentary. Areas of the whole case that got glossed over were the whole charlie haughey influence and the court trial. Not a terrible read, more a mediocre one but this is largely driven by the input of mcarthur than reflective of the author.
Shelved as 'unfinished'
February 15, 2024I loved To Be a Machine and Notes from an Apocalypse and so thought I could happily read O’Connell on any subject, but a crime I’d never heard about and learned the basics of within the first 20 pages was never going to engage me for the length of a whole book.
May 22, 2024
This was a nicely written book about an interesting criminal but I didn’t feel it was stylistically innovative or particularly insightful about the murderer’s motivations. What is worse, it seemed to have very little to say about the victims or their families. We are nowhere near the triumph of In Cold Blood or Executioner’s Song or Strange Piece of Paradise or My Dark Places.
September 12, 2023
Too much about the privileged author and less about the subject of the book….or wait, maybe the subject of the book IS the author!? Disappointing.
July 5, 2023
Malcolm McArthur was an Irish upper-class Dubliner. He never worked. He dabbled in academia. He lived the life of an independently wealthy fellow. He blew through all of his family money.
He decided to rob a bank to finance his lifestyle. On July 22, 1982 he tried to steal a car to use in the bank robbery. When Birdie Gargan, the 27 year old owner of the car,tried to resist, he beat her to death with a hammer. Three days later he arranged to buy a shotgun from a 27 year old farmer, Donal Dunne. He turned the gun on Dunne and killed him with a point-blank shot to the head.
He convinced a friend to let him stay in his Dublin apartment while the police were frantically looking for the person who committed the two murders. The friend was Patrick Connolly, the Attorney General of Ireland. McArthur was eventually tracked to Connolly's apartment and arrested there. Connolly was forced to resign. The Government was embarrassed because a house guest of the Attorney General was arrested as a serial killer.
McArthur plead guilty to killing Gargan and was given a life sentence. In 2012 he was released from prison after thirty years. Mark O'Connell describes this as the most notorious murder case in Irish memory. He compares McArthur's notoriety in Ireland with Jeffrey Dahmer's in America.
O'Connell has published several essay collections. He became fascinated by McArthur. O'Connell's grandparents lived in Connolly's building when McArthur was arrested there. After McArthur was released from prison, Connolly saw him on the streets of Dublin and at a literary affair.
O'Connell decided that he wanted to interview McArthur to try to get some understanding of the horrible crimes. McArthur agreed to talk to him. It seems that O'Connell's academic and intellectual background appealed to McArthur's vanity. O'Connell was not writing a true crime quicky.
O'Connell tells this bizarre story brilliantly. He captures the seedy rich world McArthur traveled in. He tells the horrific stories of his crime spree with an almost clinical accuracy, and he stops to point out problems, inconsistencies and odd touches as he goes. His grandparents make a interesting cameo in the story. This works very well as a true crime story.
It is also much more than a typical true crime book. O'Connell spent hours talking to McArthur. McArthur had a very clever approach to his horrible crimes. He did not try to minimize or excuse what he did. They were terrible acts. He deserved to be punished. The victim's families were victims also. On the other hand, he absolutely refused to accept that those several weeks of what he calls his "criminal episode", had anything to do with the rest of his life.
He denied press stories that his parents where remote and absent or that he was physically abused. He denied that he was an unusually lonely or awkward young man. He described a healthy normal life where he suddenly out of the blue, he had his "criminal episode" and then he went right back to his normal good citizen.
O'Connell presses McArthur on his denial but McArthur is clever or deluded enough that he hardly ever wavers from his position. He also maintains his wealthy sense of entitlement. He has the born snob's habit of constantly denying that he is a snob.
O'Connell wrestles with what he is doing. He is desperate not to glamorize or humanize a terrible person. He wrestles with his obligations to the victim's family. Is he wronging them by rehashing all this? Is he deceiving McArthur by letting him think he has a sympathetic ear in order to get him to talk?
McArthur is, in the end, a mystery. How much is self-delusion? How much is a con?
None of these questions get answered definitively but it is fascinating to follow O'Connell trying to work his way through them.
He decided to rob a bank to finance his lifestyle. On July 22, 1982 he tried to steal a car to use in the bank robbery. When Birdie Gargan, the 27 year old owner of the car,tried to resist, he beat her to death with a hammer. Three days later he arranged to buy a shotgun from a 27 year old farmer, Donal Dunne. He turned the gun on Dunne and killed him with a point-blank shot to the head.
He convinced a friend to let him stay in his Dublin apartment while the police were frantically looking for the person who committed the two murders. The friend was Patrick Connolly, the Attorney General of Ireland. McArthur was eventually tracked to Connolly's apartment and arrested there. Connolly was forced to resign. The Government was embarrassed because a house guest of the Attorney General was arrested as a serial killer.
McArthur plead guilty to killing Gargan and was given a life sentence. In 2012 he was released from prison after thirty years. Mark O'Connell describes this as the most notorious murder case in Irish memory. He compares McArthur's notoriety in Ireland with Jeffrey Dahmer's in America.
O'Connell has published several essay collections. He became fascinated by McArthur. O'Connell's grandparents lived in Connolly's building when McArthur was arrested there. After McArthur was released from prison, Connolly saw him on the streets of Dublin and at a literary affair.
O'Connell decided that he wanted to interview McArthur to try to get some understanding of the horrible crimes. McArthur agreed to talk to him. It seems that O'Connell's academic and intellectual background appealed to McArthur's vanity. O'Connell was not writing a true crime quicky.
O'Connell tells this bizarre story brilliantly. He captures the seedy rich world McArthur traveled in. He tells the horrific stories of his crime spree with an almost clinical accuracy, and he stops to point out problems, inconsistencies and odd touches as he goes. His grandparents make a interesting cameo in the story. This works very well as a true crime story.
It is also much more than a typical true crime book. O'Connell spent hours talking to McArthur. McArthur had a very clever approach to his horrible crimes. He did not try to minimize or excuse what he did. They were terrible acts. He deserved to be punished. The victim's families were victims also. On the other hand, he absolutely refused to accept that those several weeks of what he calls his "criminal episode", had anything to do with the rest of his life.
He denied press stories that his parents where remote and absent or that he was physically abused. He denied that he was an unusually lonely or awkward young man. He described a healthy normal life where he suddenly out of the blue, he had his "criminal episode" and then he went right back to his normal good citizen.
O'Connell presses McArthur on his denial but McArthur is clever or deluded enough that he hardly ever wavers from his position. He also maintains his wealthy sense of entitlement. He has the born snob's habit of constantly denying that he is a snob.
O'Connell wrestles with what he is doing. He is desperate not to glamorize or humanize a terrible person. He wrestles with his obligations to the victim's family. Is he wronging them by rehashing all this? Is he deceiving McArthur by letting him think he has a sympathetic ear in order to get him to talk?
McArthur is, in the end, a mystery. How much is self-delusion? How much is a con?
None of these questions get answered definitively but it is fascinating to follow O'Connell trying to work his way through them.
August 7, 2023
I picked this up as a (sometime) true crime reader interested in reading about an Irish murder. The author makes it clear from the beginning that he will be a character in the proceedings. He has been intrigued by the case since Malcolm Macarthur was arrested at his grandparents housing estate and when he decides to write this book he starts roaming the streets of Dublin trying to find the murderer.
The author wants to find out the Why of Malcolm Macarthur; he wants to see true remorse. Eventually he acknowledges the futility of this, there is no “balancing the equation” and yet I still found the book extremely compelling.
The author wants to find out the Why of Malcolm Macarthur; he wants to see true remorse. Eventually he acknowledges the futility of this, there is no “balancing the equation” and yet I still found the book extremely compelling.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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