Richard Michael O’Meara’s Walking Away, the first book in the Times of Joy series, follows John Patrick Joy from the devastation of Ireland’s Great Hunger into the ranks of the British Army and, eventually, the Crimean War. John’s journey begins with the death of his mother and carries him through relief-road labor, work transporting bodies, military service in Barbados and Nova Scotia, and the battles of Alma, Balaclava, and Inkerman. O’Meara keeps this large historical canvas grounded in immediate human needs. Food, dry boots, clean water, warm clothing, and a safe place to sleep often matter more than politics or military strategy.

The novel’s strongest passages show history pressing directly against ordinary people. Its depiction of the famine is physical and unsettling, filled with cold mud, diseased potatoes, empty stomachs, and families forced into impossible choices. John survives by repeatedly walking away, but the title’s central action gradually becomes more than escape. Walking is his method of grieving, working, fighting, and continuing when he can’t make sense of what’s happened. His service in the British Army adds another layer to that struggle, since the institution that feeds and clothes him also subjects him to brutal discipline and draws him into violence against other desperate people.

John’s friendships with Michael Danaher and Rather Murray give the story much of its warmth. Their evenings learning to read, writing letters, discussing faith, and listening to A Christmas Carol create welcome pockets of tenderness within the harsher episodes. John’s letters to his dead mother are especially affecting because they let him admit fears and doubts he rarely voices elsewhere. The novel favors an expansive, episodic style, lingering over military drills, barracks routines, equipment, punishment, and battlefield confusion. Some of those extended passages slow the momentum, but they also build a convincing picture of a common soldier’s life and make the losses in Crimea feel personal rather than statistical.

I’d recommend Walking Away most to readers who enjoy historically detailed fiction about the Irish famine, the Irish diaspora, and nineteenth-century military life. It should also appeal to readers interested in stories about rank-and-file soldiers, moral injury, faith under pressure, and the complicated bargains people make to survive. John isn’t presented as a spotless hero. He’s angry, compassionate, violent, loyal, and often uncertain, which makes him a fitting witness to an age shaped by displacement and war. By the end, his decision to keep moving carries a modest but persuasive hope that endurance can preserve a person’s dignity even after nearly everything else has been taken.