An Irish Country Village

An Irish Country Village

4.5 106
by Patrick Taylor

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Patrick Taylor first charmed readers with An Irish Country Doctor, a warm and enchanting novel in the tradition of James Herriot and Jan Karon. Now Taylor returns to the colorful Northern Ireland community of Ballybucklebo, where there's always something brewing beneath the village's deceptively sleepy surface.

Young Doctor Barry Laverty has only just


Patrick Taylor first charmed readers with An Irish Country Doctor, a warm and enchanting novel in the tradition of James Herriot and Jan Karon. Now Taylor returns to the colorful Northern Ireland community of Ballybucklebo, where there's always something brewing beneath the village's deceptively sleepy surface.

Young Doctor Barry Laverty has only just begun his assistantship under his eccentric mentor, Dr. Fingal Flahertie O'Reilly, but he already feels right at home in Ballybucklebo. When the sudden death of a patient casts a cloud over Barry's reputation, his chances of establishing himself in the village are endangered, especially since the grieving widow is threatening a lawsuit.

While he anxiously waits for the postmortem results that he prays will exonerate him, Barry must regain the trust of the gossipy Ulster village, one patient at a time. From a put-upon shop girl with a mysterious rash to the troubled pregnancy of a winsome young lass who's not quite married yet, Ballybucklebo provides plenty of cases to keep the two country G.P.s busy.

Not all their challenges are medical in nature. When a greedy developer sets his sights on the very heart of the community, the village pub, it's up to the doctors to save the Black Swan (affectionately known to the locals as the "Mucky Duck") from being turned into an overpriced tourist trap. After all, the good citizens of Ballybucklebo need some place to drink to each other's health. . . .

Whether you've visited in the past, or are discovering Ballybucklebo for the first time, An Irish Country Village is an ideal location for anyone looking for wit, warmth, and just a touch of blarney.

Editorial Reviews

Patrick Taylor's An Irish Country Doctor earned its real-life physician author comparisons with Jan Karon and James Herriot. In An Irish Country Village, Taylor returns to spin a comforting tale about Ballybucklebo, a small, insular community in County Ulster. The novel charts the initiation of young "big-city" doctor Barry Laverty into the charming folkways and foibles of this backwater hamlet. As in his debut novel, Taylor manages to populate the scene with a large cast of robust locals, several of whom are nursing problems or feuds. Adroitly written and craftily plotted.
Publishers Weekly

This highly readable sequel to An Irish Country Doctorfollows the trials and exultations of Dr. Barry Laverty as he begins his assistantship to Dr. Fingal Flahertie O'Reilly in Balleybucklebo, a fictional Irish Ulster village of the 1960s. Barry loves his diverse work-conjunctivitis to obstetrics-and his provincial patients are keen on folk wisdom and proverbs. He grows fond and admiring of his gruff, imposing senior colleague, who heals bodies and also attacks social maladies, like the greedy local councilor who threatens to turn the Black Swan, a local pub, into a tourist trap. Meanwhile, Barry's infatuation with plucky engineering student Patricia Spence thickens, though her ambition may land her a scholarship that would lure her to Cambridge. And then there's the matter of a potential career-ending lawsuit by a recent widow whose husband died after Barry botched a diagnosis. Detailed medical procedures of the era are fascinating to a modern reader, though Taylor sometimes throws in too much play-by-play. The book, with its spot-on dialects (a glossary is included for those who don't know what, say, "soft hand under a duck" means) and neatly tied endings, largely succeeds as light entertainment. (Feb.)

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From the Publisher

“Highly readable. . . . Detailed medical procedures of the era are fascinating to a modern reader. . . . The book, with its spot-on dialects and neatly tied endings, largely succeeds as light entertainment.” —Publishers Weekly on An Irish Country Village

“Full of stories and vivid characters, the novel recalls a good night in a pub. Its greatest charm lies in homey Ulster idioms. . . . Good, light entertainment.” —Booklist on An Irish Country Village

An Irish Country Doctor makes for escapist, delightful fun.” —Publishers Weekly

“Ballybucklebo is an easy place for readers to sink into, with likable characters and atmospheric dialogue.” —Kirkus Reviews on An Irish Country Doctor

Product Details

Tom Doherty Associates
Publication date:
Irish Country Series, #2
Edition description:
Product dimensions:
5.80(w) x 9.40(h) x 1.60(d)

Read an Excerpt

An Irish Country Village

By Taylor, Patrick Forge Books Copyright © 2008 Taylor, Patrick
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780765316240

Chapter 1
Barry Laverty—Doctor Barry Laverty—heard the clattering of a frying pan on a stove and smelled bacon frying. Mrs. “Kinky” Kincaid, Doctor O’Reilly’s housekeeper, had breakfast on, and Barry realized he was ravenous.
Feet thumped down the stairs, and a deep voice said, “Morning, Kinky.”
“Morning yourself, Doctor dear.”
“Young Laverty up yet?” Despite the fact that half the village of Ballybucklebo, County Down, Northern Ireland, had been partying in his back garden for much of the night, Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, Laverty’s senior colleague, was up and doing.
“I heard him moving about, so.”
Barry’s head was a little woozy, but he smiled as he left his small attic bedroom. He found the Cork woman’s habit of tacking “so” to the ends of most of her sentences endearing and less grating than the “so it is” or “so I will” added for emphasis by the folks from his native province of Ulster.
In the bathroom he washed the sleep from his blue eyes, which in the shaving mirror blinked at him from an oval face under fair hair, a cowlick sticking up from the crown.
He finished dressing and went downstairs to the dining room, passing as he did theground-floor parlour that Doctor O’Reilly used as his surgery, which Barry knew an American doctor would have called his “office.” He hoped to be spending a lot of time here in the future. He paused to glimpse inside the by now familiar room.
“Don’t stand there with both legs the same length,” O’Reilly growled from the dining room opposite. “Come on in and let Kinky feed us.”
“Coming.” Barry went into the dining room, blinking at the August sunlight streaming in through the bay windows.
“Morning, Barry.” O’Reilly, wearing a collarless striped shirt and red braces to hold up his tweed trousers, sat at the head of a large mahogany table, a teacup held in one big hand.
“Morning, Fingal.” Barry sat and poured himself a cup. “Grand day.”
“I could agree,” said O’Reilly, “if I didn’t have a bit of a strong weakness.” He yawned and massaged one temple, his bushy eyebrows moving closer as he spoke. Barry could see tiny veins in the whites of O’Reilly’s brown eyes. The big man’s craggy face with its cauliflower ears and listing-to-port nose broke into a grin. “When I was in the navy it’s what we used to call ‘a self-inflicted injury.’ It was quite the ta-ta-ta-ra yesterday.”
Barry laughed and wondered how many pints of Guinness his mentor had sunk the previous night. Ordinarily drink would have as much effect on O’Reilly as a teaspoon of water on a forest fire. Barry still wasn’t sure if the man’s magnanimous offer, made in the middle of what had seemed to be the hooley to end all hooleys, had been the Guinness talking or whether O’Reilly was serious. When he’d first woken he’d thought he might’ve dreamed the whole thing, but now he clearly remembered that he’d vowed before laying his head on the pillow to muster the courage this morning to ask O’Reilly if he had meant it.
He knew he could let the hare sit, wait for O’Reilly to repeat the offer under more professional circumstances, but damn it all, this was important. Barry glanced down at the table, then back straight into O’Reilly’s eyes. “Fingal,” he said putting down his cup.
“You were serious, weren’t you, about offering me a full-time assistantship for one year and then a partnership in your practice?”
O’Reilly’s cup stopped halfway to his lips. His hairline moved lower and rumpled the skin of his forehead. Pallor appeared at the tip of his bent nose.
Barry involuntarily turned one shoulder towards the big man, as a pistol duellist of old might have done in order to present his enemy with a smaller target. The pale nose was a sure sign that fires smouldering beneath O’Reilly’s crust were about to break through the surface.
“Was I what?” O’Reilly slammed his cup into his saucer. “Was I what?”
Barry swallowed. “I only meant—”
“Holy thundering mother of Jesus Christ Almighty I know what you meant. Why the hell would you think I wasn’t serious?”
“Well . . .” Barry struggled desperately to find diplomatic words. “You . . . that is, we . . . we’d had a fair bit to drink.”
O’Reilly pushed his chair away from the table, cocked his head to one side, stared at Barry—and began to laugh, great throaty rumbles.
Barry looked expectantly into O’Reilly’s face. His nose tip had returned to its usually florid state. The laugh lines at the corners of the big man’s eyes had deepened.
“Yes, Doctor Barry Laverty, I was serious. Of course I was bloody well serious. I’d like you to stay.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. I’d not have made you the offer if I didn’t think you were fitting in here in Ballybucklebo, and if the customers hadn’t taken a shine to you.”
Barry smiled.
“You just keep it up. You hear me?”
“I do.”
O’Reilly stood and started to walk round the table until he stood over Barry. O’Reilly stretched out his right hand. “If we were a couple of horse traders we’d spit on our hands before we sealed the contract, but I think maybe a couple of GPs should forgo that in favour of a simple handshake.”
Barry rose and accepted O’Reilly’s clasp, relieved to find it wasn’t the man’s usual knuckle-crushing version of a handshake. “Thanks, Fingal,” he said. “Thanks a lot and I will try to—”
“I’m sure you will,” said O’Reilly, releasing Barry’s hand, “but all this serious conversation has me famished, and I’m like a bull with a headache until I get my breakfast. Where the hell’s Kinky?” He turned and started to amble back to his chair.
Barry heard a loud rumbling from O’Reilly’s stomach. He did not say, “Excuse me.” Barry had learned that the man never apologized; indeed his confession of being short-tempered in the morning was the closest Barry knew O’Reilly would get to expressing regret for having roared at Barry moments earlier. The man rarely explained himself and seemed to live entirely by his own set of rules, the first being “Never, never, never let the patients get the upper hand.”
Barry heard a noise behind him and turned to see Mrs. Kincaid standing in the doorway. He hadn’t heard her coming. For a woman of her size she was light on her feet.
“You’re ready now for your breakfast, are you, Doctors?” she said, moving into the room, setting a tray on the sideboard, lifting plates, and putting one before O’Reilly and one in front of Barry. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I know you’re discussing important things, so.” Her eyes twinkled and she winked at Barry. “But you get carried away sometimes, don’t you, Doctor O’Reilly dear? I hear that kind of thing is very bad for the blood pressure.”
“Get away with you, Kinky.” O’Reilly was grinning at her, but with the kind of look a small boy might give his mother when he knew he’d been caught out in some peccadillo.
Barry turned his attention to his breakfast. On his plate two rashers of Belfast bacon kept an orange-yolked egg company. Half a fried tomato perched on a crisp triangle of soda farl. A pork sausage, two rings of black pudding, and one of white topped off the repast. He felt himself salivate as the steam rising from the platter tickled his nostrils. If professional reasons weren’t enough to keep him here, Mrs. Kincaid’s cooking certainly tipped the scales. “Thanks, Kinky,” he said. “When I get through this, I’ll be ready to go and call the cows home.”
He saw her smile. “Eat up however little much is in it, and leave the cows to the farmers, so.” She turned to go, her silver chignon catching the sun’s rays as they slipped through the room’s bay window to sparkle in her hair and plant diamonds in the cut-glass decanters on the sideboard.
“Thanks, Kinky,” said O’Reilly, tucking a linen napkin into his shirt-neck. He waved his fork. “Begod I could eat a horse, a bloody Clydesdale, saddle and all.” He shoved most of one rasher into his mouth.
Barry swallowed a small piece of tomato.
O’Reilly speared a piece of black pudding and chewed with what appeared to be the enthusiasm of a famished crocodile feeding on a fat springbok. “I can’t face the day without my breakfast. Once I get this into me, I’ll be a new man.”
As Barry sliced his bacon he heard the front doorbell, Kinky’s footsteps, and a man’s voice. Kinky reappeared in the dining room. “It’s Archibald Auchinleck, the milkman.”
“On a Sunday morning?” O’Reilly growled through a mouthful of soda farl.
“He says he’s sorry, but—”
“All right,” O’Reilly growled, ripping the napkin from his throat. “Between you making breakfast late with your questions and the patients interrupting it,” he said, eyeing Barry, “I’ll die of starvation.” He stood and walked down past the table. Mrs. Kincaid moved up the other side. The pair of them look like partners in a slip jig, Barry thought.
“I’ll pop this back in the oven. Keep it warm, so.” She lifted O’Reilly’s plate.
Barry nodded and returned to his meal. Suddenly a roar shattered the morning.
“Do you know what bloody day it is, Archibald Auchinleck, you pathetic, primitive, primate? Do you?” O’Reilly’s shout made Barry’s teacup rattle. “Answer me, you pitiful, pinheaded parasite.”
Barry was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. He strained but couldn’t hear the milkman’s reply.
A line echoed in Barry’s head. Never, never, never let the patients . . .
“Sunday. Well done. Pure genius. You should get a Nobel Prize for knowing that. Not Monday. Not Friday. Sunday. Now I know what it means in the good book, in Genesis chapter one, verse twenty-five, that on the fifth day God made “every thing that creepeth upon the earth. Relatives of yours, no doubt, Archibald Auchinleck. But what . . . what does it say in chapter two, verse two, about the seventh day? Tell me that.”
Muted mumbling came from across the hall.
O’Reilly continued his rant. “It says, and please correct me if I’m wrong, ‘And on the seventh day God ended his work . . . and He rested.’ And what did he do?”
Barry could just make out the reply: “And he rested, sir.”
Never, never, never let the patients
Barry could hear O’Reilly resuming his diatribe. “Yes, he rested. He bloody well rested. Now tell me, Archibald Auchinleck, if the Good Lord could put his feet up on the Sabbath, why in the hell can’t I? What in the name of Jesus H. Christ possessed you to come to annoy me today, Sunday, with a simple backache you’ve had for bloody weeks?”
. . . get the upper hand. It might be O’Reilly’s first law of practice, Barry thought, grinning widely, but the corollary, the first law to be obeyed by O’Reilly’s patients, was “Pokest thou not a rabid bull mastiff in the eye with a blunt stick.”
O’Reilly’s voice dropped in volume and seemed more placatory. “All right, Archie. All right. Enough said. I know you only get Sundays off from your milk round. It’s probably all the stooping and bending to deliver the bottles that’s giving you gyp, and having a boy in the British army must be a worry. Tell me about your back, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Barry mopped up some egg yolk with a piece of soda farl. That was O’Reilly in a nutshell, he thought. A temper and a tendency to erupt like a grumbling volcano, wedded to an encyclopaedic knowledge of his patients and a sense of obligation to them that made the oath of Hippocrates sound as trite as a Christmas-cracker motto.
Barry pushed his plate away, stood, and looked out through the bow window. It was a beautiful day, and as O’Reilly had said he could have today off, he was free from any responsibility to the practice.
He intended to enjoy his freedom to the full. Tomorrow would mark the start of his assistantship to Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly. 
Copyright © 2008 by Patrick Taylor. All rights reserved.


Excerpted from An Irish Country Village by Taylor, Patrick Copyright © 2008 by Taylor, Patrick. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Patrick Taylor, M.D., is the author of the Irish Country books, including An Irish Country Doctor, An Irish Country Christmas, An Irish Country Girl, and An Irish Country Courtship. Taylor was born and raised in Bangor, County Down in Northern Ireland. After qualifying as a specialist in 1969, he worked in Canada for thirty-one years. He now lives on Saltspring Island, British Columbia.

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An Irish Country Village 4.5 out of 5 based on 2 ratings. 106 reviews.
-BNB- More than 1 year ago
These stories are thoroughly enjoyable. What a gift for an author to be able to create characters we wish to know and follow and places into which our hearts move. I was sorry to read in some of his notes that places like Ballybucklebo no longer exist except in memory and fiction. If they did, certainly, they'd become a tourist's destination. I've been a fan of Maeve Binchy and Patricia Cornwell, but I don't think I've read a series from which the characters and places have stayed in my mind like these do since reading James Herriot's series decades ago. His are still there, and Taylor's are becoming their friends. I do wish publishing companies would become the reader's friend and either include ordinal numbers or copyright dates by the titles listed in the opening pages under "other books by...." when publishing a series by an author. Since getting hooked on this one, I've read at least one out of order, and it is always disheartening to know the future before it unfolds, if even a little bit.
RobinD62 More than 1 year ago
I loved this book as much as the first and also could not put it down, often reading till late into the night. I would also laugh out loud at certain passages. Especially those that reminded me of long dead relatives or medical type people I had run into in my own life. I grew up in a very small community so that part of it appealed to me too. The eccentricities of the locals. I think anyone would enjoy reading this book very much and consider it a great investment in fun.
mrsminiver More than 1 year ago
I thoroughly enjoyed Patrick Taylor's first book- An Irish Country Doctor and am still enjoying this next one. I'm looking forward to reading both of the other books in this series.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I loved the book and it is an easy read. But once you pick it up, it is hard to put it down. You just can't wait to see what happens to whom next. The writing enables you to actually see the countryside, the houses, etc. It is a keeper!
galwaygirl More than 1 year ago
I found this book a pleasure to read..It takes place in Ulster (Northern Ireland), in the 60's. Dr. Barry Laverty, fresh out of medical school , comes to Ballybucklebo and joins the country practice of Dr. Fingal Flahertie O'Reilly. Many chuckles abound as Dr. Laverty adjusts to the larger than life Dr. O'Reilly and the many characters who live in Ballybucklebo and come to them for medical assistance. Great read.
lintom More than 1 year ago
This was a nice trip to the old sod. I would reccommend it for some one who needs a gentle change of pace. I will difinately read his books again. i think this would make for a good book club read. I t deals with the human condition.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Patrick Taylor engages you in Ireland in the early 60's and you feel you're really there. I laugh, I cry, I thoroughly enjoyed this series of stories. I hope there is more coming!!!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Actually a series of three books: An Irish Country Doctor, An Irish Country Village, An Irish Country Christmas. Enjoyed reading all three. Became interested after traveling through Ireland and Northern Ireland, but not necessary to enjoy.
RogerLee More than 1 year ago
The Irish have such a rich oral tradition. The pace, the language, you feel it in Patrick Taylor's writing. You are in an Irish country village. Taking everyday events and holding your attention is a true talent.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book and the series are wonderfully written. The characters are interesting and intriguing. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would recommend it to anyone.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The entire series of books by this author is excellent. Patrick Taylor is very accomplished as a writer. His character development and story line are remarkable. When I finish one of his books I'm actually sad that is over. I have and would recommend any of his books.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Drs. O'Reilly and Laverty are still hard at work healing their sick Ballelybucklebo neighbors. Along with saving the life of a spontaneous aborting mother, Barry wrestles with decisions past and present. His budding love for the feminist Patricia also is tried. Donal emerges as the town saint when he brings everyone together to fix Sonny's roof. The problems are all happily resolved in the end in this feel good novel. Looking forward to the next installment.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Take a trip to Ireland without a passport. No need to pack your bags. Just curl up with this book and enjoy. You will love the characters, especially Doctors O'Reilly and Laverty the housekeeper, Kinky. The Irish wit is so refreshing. However, I recommend reading the Irish Country Village first to get you started on your journey.
Indig08 More than 1 year ago
Patrick Taylor takes us on a magic carpet ride into a world of an imaginary doctor learning to cope with very unusual (but not unimaginable) folks in the Irish countryside. Great fun to read and relax with. Definitely an author to follow when you'd like a break from the cast type of "top sellers" who follow the same reliable pattern in their books.
BARBIE75 More than 1 year ago
I have read the first two of Patrick Taylor's novels. they are so charming and so funny. It is like peaking in on a village and seeing what is going on there. Each novel continues on with the storyline of 2 doctors and their general practice. i have the Christmas book to read and i can tell it is continuing on from An Irish Country Village. I would recommend starting your series with the first one, An Irish Country Doctor. ENJOY.
readerinSWPA More than 1 year ago
A charming book - brings to mind the gentle, non-judgmental tales in the "All Creatures Great and Small" series of books. The author brings you into the life of a village doctor with all the attendant characters and their problems. The characters reminded me of people I have known with all their idiosyncrasies. It is interesting to follow the acceptance of the young doctor by the village people and to get an idea of what it might have been like to try to practice an imperfect science during a time when healing depended as much on the practitioner as upon the science. On the whole, great reading without being sugary sweet, definitely an easy read without gratuitous violence and profane language.
Jeanajo More than 1 year ago
Truly enjoyed reading "An Irish Country Village" I felt like I actually lived there and personally knew the characters. Have also read "An Irish Country Doctor" and "An Irish Country Christmas". Am looking forward to reading "An Irish Country Girl".
Mary-PA More than 1 year ago
Recommend also reading first An Irish Country Doctor, then Irish Country Village followed by an Irish Country Christmas -- the three books cover about a year in the life of Doctors O'Reilly and Laverty and made for the most enjoyable evenings of reading -- filled with laughter and love for the most unique bunch of characters one could hope to meet.
PD53 More than 1 year ago
If you've got Irish blood in you, or just appreciate the Irish people, you'll love this tale of life in a small Irish village.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love reading about these characters from Ballybucklebo.
momochriS34 More than 1 year ago
This is a really great book. Patrick Taylor has a gift for writing, a lot like James Herriot, only dealing with people. I liked this book so much that I read every other book about this Irish Country Village, such as An Irish Country Doctor and others. You will not be disappointed and you will love Dr. O'Reilly and wish you had him for your doctor.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Highly Recommended you must check it out.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago