Author photo Eilís Dillon
The Lost Island
Michael Farrell was forced to grow up quickly after his father disappeared while hunting for treasure on the fabled lost island of Inishmanann. Struggling to get by on their small farm, Michael and his mother receive a mysterious message one evening from a whining old tramp. The old man claims to have proof that Michael’s father is alive.

Although no one seeking the Lost Island has ever returned, Michael and his friend Joe board the first boat they can, only to find out that it is not what it seems. Braving the unknown seas, they embark on a grand search for Michael's missing father, hidden treasure, and the island's long-lost secret. Set on Ireland’s wild Atlantic coast, this tale of treachery and adventure makes a unique and suspenseful story.

Originally published by Fabers of London in 1952, Eilís Dillon's first teenage advanture novel has appeared in many editions and translations, most recently in 2019 from New York Review Books

The Lost Island, Faber edition ..The Lost Island, US edition..The Lost Island, 1st German translation..The Lost Island SWEDISH..The Lost Island 2ndGerman translation..The Lost Island OBrien paperback ..The Lost Island Chinese..The Lost Island New York Review Books

REVIEWS AND RECOMMENDATIONS

“When Miss Dillon writes of the sea, one can almost get the tang of salt and hear the waves breaking on a rocky shore.” —The Irish Independent

“A thoroughgoing adventure story with all the details of sailing, place and character brushed in delicately. Plenty of action and a dour sense of humour. Unreservedly recommended.” —The Times (London)

“Beginning quietly with an ordinary market day, the book gathers speed and holds the reader enthralled to its conclusion.” —The Horn Book

"As original and as full of apprehensive suspense as a Graham Greene entertainment for grown-ups." —The New Statesman

"Simply a good writer....Loving and understanding people, and concerned to tell stories that are as exciting as adventure stories should be but in which the events are tied firmly to human possibility." —The Times Literary Supplement

"This exquisitely-written Irish tale [...] feels like stepping into the deepest heart of the Irish culture of mystery and magic. Lots of humor, lots of action, and wonderfully drawn characters." — Laura Duggan, litkidz.com

 

From the opening pages ....

"This boat is a hundred years old," said Pete. "My grandfather built her with his own hands. He used to use her for carrying turf to the islands, but now she's mostly used for fishing. As fine a boat as you'll find in the bay, and as good as the day she was built. I wouldn't sell her for all the gold in Ireland."
Almost at the foot of the ladder there was an old rusty tin can punched with holes towards the top. Pete explained that a turf fire was lit in this for boiling potatoes or water for tea when they were at sea. Sure enough, when we came on deck again I could see a thin stream of smoke coming from the hatches of some of the other boats.
"Those are the island boats," Pete explained. "The men live on them when they come into the town."
I had often seen the islandmen in the town on market days. They were always dressed in dark-blue homespun, and the rawhide shoes that they made at home. They moved about and conducted their business with quiet dignity, and kept rather to themselves.
"Have you ever been to the islands?" I asked.
"Many and many a time," said Pete. "I have some very good friends there."
The three islands lay across the mouth of the bay. On a clear day they could be seen from the town, when they appeared to be floating on the horizon. They looked to me like the world's end, and it seemed impossible that people like myself should be living on them.
"I often wondered if it was to the islands that my father went," I said. "They say there are caves there that no one knows about, where a man could be in hiding for years."
Pete shook his head.
"A mainlander wouldn't know where those caves are," he said, "but you can be sure that the islanders know. And why would your father go into hiding? He had done nothing wrong."
"Of course not," I said. "But perhaps he had an enemy. I've thought about it all so much that I have no ideas left. If I had any clue about it all, I'd go after it and follow it up until I found him—alive or dead."
Joe said:
"And I'd go with you."
There was silence for a while.

 

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