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Michael Harding's new book, Talking to Strangers, will be published at the end of September 2016 and promises to be as entertaining and thoughtful as his two great memoirs Staring at Lakes and Hanging with the Elephant.

‘It’s never a good idea to book a flight online after you’ve been drinking wine.’

That’s what led Michael Harding to a strange flat in Bucharest in January 2015. It was the moment that set the tone for the rest of that year.

After a stint in the Gaiety Theatre production of The Field, Harding returned to the tranquil hills above Lough Allen and began to imagine what his little cottage might look like if he got a few builders to tear a hole in the wall and add on another room. Surely an extension would give him a renewed sense of purpose in life, as he approached old age. But as the walls of his home crumbled, so too did his mental health, and he fell once again, into depression – that great darkness where
life feels like nothing more than a waste of time.


And yet, it is in that great darkness that we discover what really
makes us human. Talking to Strangers is a book about growing old, about the stories we share with others, and the stories we leave behind us.


‘Absorbing and graced with a deceptive lightness of touch …
Harding writes like an angel’ SUNDAY TIMES

‘Hilarious, and tender, and mad, and harrowing, and wistful,
and always beautifully written’ KEVIN BARRY

‘An edifying journey of self-discovery’


His engaging style has a way of drawing audiences in. Hilarious yet poignant, homespun yet profound, down-to-earth yet prone to amazing flights of fancy, there's nothing quite like an evening with Michael Harding.


The adventure begins with two evenings in the Peacock Dublin on October 16 and 17, then nationwide, beginning in early February, travelling to Letterkenny, Sligo, Galway, Virginia, Longford, Ennis, Limerick, Tralee, Portlaoise, Thurles, Kilkenny, Waterford, Newbridge and Dublin


‘Often funny, occasionally disturbing and not without its moments of deep sadness, Harding has peeled back his soul and held it out on the palm of his hand for all to see’

Christine Dwyer-Hickey


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