When I was three my parents drove from Kerry to Dublin. I spent the journey sticking my head between the driver and passenger seats and bombarding them with questions. No matter how they tried to answer me, my response was always the same: ‘But why?’ Several decades later I’m still asking questions, though these days I’m less reliant on my parents to provide answers (much to their relief). In fact, writing The Darkness Echoing is my attempt to answer my …
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