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Irish Emigrant Book Review, No.98 (Sept 2003)
The
Encyclopaedia of Ireland - General Editor Brian Lalor
In the preface to this massive publication the editor asserts that the
Encyclopaedia “seeks to present the best of current consensual thought
on the wide span of Irish experience” and the contents certainly cover
an enormous range of subjects. Each entry, from more than nine hundred
contributors, is completely original, and the text is accompanied by some
eight hundred illustrations, one a sketch by Queen Victoria of a performance
of Dion Boucicault’s “The Corsican Brothers”. Where does one begin in
reviewing such a work? I decided to search for a group of sportsmen who
would probably be unfamiliar to the present generation but who were renowned
in the earlier years of the last century. And the encyclopaedia passed
its first test when I found an entry for the Casey Family by James Doherty.
Meriting half a page, the feats in rowing, boxing and wrestling of the
Kerry brothers were written in detail. Many of the entries were totally
unfamiliar but nonetheless fascinating, for example the account by John
Wakeman of the Altar Controversy of 1847, during which the rector of the
Church of Ireland in the Cork townland employed Catholics in the construction
of a new church on the condition that they convert to Protestantism. Interesting
but little-known personalities earn their place; Susan O’Hagan of Lisburn,
Co. Antrim, worked for the Hall family for a total of ninety-seven years,
living from 1802 to 1909. Broader subjects are covered under a number
of different headings, with Catholicism being dealt with over eight pages
under such headings as Catholic Relief Acts, Catholicism and the Irish
Diaspora and Catholic Emancipation. An inordinate amount of space seems
to have been dedicated to the subject of food, examining the Irish diet
at a number of different points in history and giving an entire page to
the humble potato, while the Church of Ireland has a relatively short
entry. There are, of course, some omissions, I do believe that tenor Ronan
Tynan deserved a place, and I was disappointed that our own Cormac MacConnell
wasn’t included along with his brothers Cathal and Mickey. Similarly,
the entry for the stone circle at Beltany places it simply in Donegal,
with no clue to its actual location. However overall the encyclopaedia
is a useful resource for detailed information on aspects of Irish history,
politics and religion, as well as a biographical source of Irishmen and
women at home and abroad. In addition it reveals gems of trivia, such
as the presence in Ireland in the 1920s and 1930s of some of the Russian
Crown Jewels, the prevalence of ether-drinking in Counties Derry and Tyrone
in the 1840s and the fact that George IV’s footprints can be seen on a
granite boulder at Howth. The standing of the consultant editors in their
chosen fields is well illustrated by the fact that three, Susan McKenna-Lawlor,
Harry White and Fintan Vallely, have their own entries as well as having
a number of contributions included. While I would not go along completely
with the publisher’s claim that “It is the only reference book about Ireland
that you will ever need”, certainly this attractively produced “Encyclopaedia
of Ireland” would be a useful and welcome addition to any library, personal
or institutional.
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Children
of the Far-Flung - Geraldine O’Connell Cusack
The American Wake is a well-documented social event, when emigrants to
America or Australia were expected never to be seen again by their families.
And for most people this was true, but for the O’Connells from Sligo and
the Taaffes from Cork, emigration seemed always to be a two-way journey.
Geraldine’s grandfather, Timothy Taaffe, had already spent a number of
years in Australia before returning home to Cork, marrying, and raising
a family, and it was his sister, a long-time emigrant to New York, who
arranged the emigration of Geraldine’s mother and aunts to the US. Meanwhile
her paternal grandparents had met and married in the US, but returned
home to Sligo at the beginning of the last century, only for their sons
Timothy and Michael to begin the emigration saga all over again twenty
years later. Thus Geraldine O’Connell Cusack sets the scene for the story
of her family, a family that has had divided loyalties like so many members
of the Irish diaspora. Counted as Irish in their adopted country, and
as Yanks in the place they call home, it is no wonder that three of the
five children at some stage made their homes in Ireland, as did their
parents who made their second journey home in 1972. In a lively and engaging
tone the author tells of her upbringing in the Bronx, of the autonomy
given to all their children by her parents Nellie and Michael which gave
her the ability to sort out her own educational needs while still in her
mid-teens. Much of the narrative is devoted to her sister Eleanor who
became Eleanora before finally settling on Deirdre O’Connell, the name
under which she will be forever remembered in Ireland for her work with
the Focus Theatre. Life to the young and not-so-young O’Connells was a
constant adventure and this spirit imbues the narrative. Everyday happenings
in the O’Connell household often took on an air of unreality, and the
idiosyncratic placing of the children around the dinner table is summed
up by the author: “It was part of a continuing mania that passed as normal
family life”. Four generations of the O’Connells, the Taaffes, the Carters
and the Scanlons are paraded before us in an extraordinary journey that
takes in Russia during the cold war, Chile and a Native American settlement
in Florida.
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Missing
- Barry Cummins
Barry Cummins’ account of a number of people who have gone missing in
Ireland over the last thirty years, particularly those in the Leinster
area, offers very little new material but it does give an insight into
the workings of the gardaí on each case. To each of the six who
disappeared in Leinster between 1993 and 1998, Annie McCarrick, Jo Jo
Dullard, Fiona Pender, Ciara Breen, Fiona Sinnott and an 18-year-old from
Newbridge whose family wished her name to be withheld, a chapter has been
devoted. The facts are once again set out, though with an irritating amount
of repetition; the author appears to believe that the reader is unable
to remember relevant facts from one chapter to the next, and in the case
of Jo Jo Dullard, just a few pages lie between the reiteration of the
arrests made during the garda investigation. Much attention is given to
the persistence of Mary Phelan, Jo Jo Dullard’s sister, in campaigning
for further investigation and for the establishment of a dedicated Missing
Persons Unit. Indeed one of the more interesting facets of this book is
the account of the effect on siblings of the disappearance of a family
member. This is particularly true in the case of Ann Boyle, the twin sister
of seven-year-old Mary Boyle who disappeared near Ballyshannon in 1977.
There is a rather disconcerting description of a re-enactment in which
Ann was encouraged to repeat the movements of her sister on that day,
in the hope that her closeness to her twin might prompt her to follow
the same course; the experiment was not a success. “Missing” is not simply
a chronicle of those whose disappearance in Ireland has remained a mystery;
the author also uses examples in both Britain and America to highlight
the difficulty of pinpointing the exact location of bodies. In addition,
Barry Cummins’ book gives an opportunity to the gardaí involved
in Operation Trace, through quotations from specific members of the force,
to encourage anyone with any knowledge to come forward. This aspect of
the work is particularly strong in the abduction of Philip Cairns, in
which gardaí believe that the return of the missing school bag
has a vital role to play in learning more about the case. Two facts emerge
from the narrative, the fear that the perpetrators of some of the attacks
might be free to strike again, and the inability of the gardaí,
within the present laws of the country, to interview at length those whom
they strongly suspect of involvement in at least some of the cases.
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High
Ride - Peter Benjamin
Once again, as in the novel “Terms and Conditions”, Dublin-born financier
Joe Grace is drawn into a world of millionaires and murderers, this time
set against the backdrop of the horseracing fraternity. And once again
Peter Benjamin has used the short chapter and a lively turn of phrase
as a means to emphasise the fast pace of the narrative. Former champion
jockey Tricky Dawson is the first victim; living with Joe’s estranged
sister Lou, he is described rather intriguingly by the author thus: “All
his life he had strived on excitement”. In order to entrap the man believed
responsible for Tricky’s death, Joe works with one of the kings of racing,
Sam Landy, in a complicated scam that will bring to fulfilment the desires
of both. As in Peter Benjamin’s first novel featuring Joe Grace, the enigmatic
Hanny plays an important part though she appears very seldom; Joe spends
much of his time, when he is not gathering together large sums of money
or fending off attempts on his life, pre-occupied with the direction their
relationship is taking. As the murders escalate and our intrepid hero
works his way through a series of possible suspects, the action moves
from Australia to England, Ireland, Los Angeles and an island in the Bay
of Mexico, with each location seeming to be as dangerous as the last for
Joe. However the “near misses” seem to be just too fortuitous by the time
of the final shoot-out on a Wicklow farm, and I found myself almost wishing
that the financial wizard turned investigator would just once receive
a serious, if obviously not fatal, injury. The final scene is a surprise,
with too much revealed in too short a space, but once again Joe escapes
with his life and the book ends on rather a lame philosophical note for
a story that has been action packed from the beginning.
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Yesterday’s
Ireland - Paddy Linehan
What a treasure chest of memories this book is. For anyone who remembers
the lifestyle of the mid-twentieth century, both the photographs and the
accompanying text will bring memories flooding back; for those who don’t
date back that far the book will prove a mine of information on the way
in which life was experienced in the Ireland of their parents and grandparents.
Paddy Linehan is a much-travelled man, but in choosing to write in detail
about his own country and his own lifetimes he has returned to his roots
and recorded a way of life that has all but disappeared. Whether describing
the interior of a typical farmhouse or chronicling the year’s tasks from
ploughing to harvest, the author has a sure eye for detail and a facility
for relating personal experience that melds perfectly with the general
narrative. Both city life and country life are covered, as are the major
themes of religion, education, emigration and sport, and the author does
not see everything through rose-coloured glasses. Often the captions to
the photographs make his point, as in the group of priests at St John’s
College in Waterford who, he points out, look well fed and have good boots
as well as power. Unusually for such a book, Paddy Linehan has obviously
expended much thought on the caption for each photograph. Some are explained
in detail, as is the photograph of pilgrims at Lough Derg, while a study
of families protesting at the demolition of their Georgian homes in Dublin
is accompanied by a historical note on the difference to a child’s life
brought by the arrival of the go-car to Ireland. In fact so apt and so
interesting are the captions that I had to resist the temptation to speed
through the book reading only these, a temptation well resisted since
the accompanying text is also enlightening. A number of errors do distract,
but only slightly, as they can also entertain; my favourite is the assertion
that Brendan Behan “had been interred for his involvement” in the IRA.
Horses, cattle and fowl all have their place in Paddy Linehan’s memory,
but he reserves a special place for donkeys which, he says, “don’t make
judgements; they just accept things as they are....If animals had religion,
donkeys would be Buddhists”. Donkeys pulling carts, donkeys carrying people,
donkeys carrying loads and donkeys just observing the scene are treated
with an affection not afforded to the other creatures. However while he
can praise, the author can also criticise or take an admonitory tone when
the occasion arises; a photograph of de Valera addressing a totally male
meeting is used to point out the leader’s firm opinion that a woman’s
place was in the home. And in the final chapter, “Céad Mile Fáilte”,
Linehan chronicles all those who have been welcomed, albeit with reservations,
to these shores, and concludes: “People from other countries now seek
solace on our shores. Let’s hope the Ireland of today and tomorrow continues
to extend its céad mile fáilte to them”.
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The
Sea’s Revenge - Séamus Ó Grianna
Séamus Ó Grianna, who died in 1969 at the age of eighty,
had very definite views on a number of topics, not least “the difference
between native Irish and learned Irish”, and this is a constant theme
in his short stories. Translated from the Irish by the author himself,
the stories focus on life in the Rosses area of Co. Donegal at the turn
of the last century and up to the years of the Civil War. Ó Grianna
excels in the short story form and sets himself - and others - an exacting
standard. In fact in his story “Manus Mac Awaard, Smoker and Storyteller”,
he sets out the criteria for the good raconteur: “A good story must not
have one word that is not necessary. It must point towards the end from
the very beginning. It must stop in a way that will make you remember
it and have no loose strings hanging out of it”. And in his tales of matchmaking,
of marriages into good farms or marriages for love, the author lives up
to this standard. The men are portrayed, on the whole, as the more innocent
of the two sexes, with a number of stories pointing to the misery of a
scolding wife. One story in which the heroine is bested by the superior
wiles of her suitor is “The Best Laid Schemes”, one of the more complex
and arresting tales. In the title story we are given to understand that
“the sea’s revenge” does not necessarily have to take a life by drowning.
The sea and fishing figure largely in the stories, reflecting the author’s
own years spent at this occupation, and through the collection runs the
thread of history in the making, the rise and fall of Parnell, the Easter
Rising, the War of Independence and the Civil War. This collection tells
of a world now past, but a world with which we are perhaps familiar, having
heard its stories from our own parents and grandparents.
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Days
of our Lives - Chris Jones
This is a book whose appeal lies in its simplicity; it’s not great literature
but it is the story of a Dublin childhood told from the heart. Chris Jones
grew up in Clanbrassil Street in the 1930s and 1940s and his family were
affected by all the vicissitudes of that time, including the Emergency
and the curse of TB. The author’s moving account of the slow death of
his lively and favourite sister Eithne would bring tears to the eyes of
the coldest heart, as would his telling of the difficulties encountered
by his parents, from different religious backgrounds, over their plans
to marry. Telling this story in the first person from a conversation held
with his father serves to emphasise the real hurt that was engendered
by the situation. Not all was doom and gloom, however, and the young Christie
also enjoyed days with his cousins in Dublin Castle, trips to the seaside
in Wicklow and all the normal pleasures of young boyhood. This is a slim
volume which brings to life in a particularly vivid way the hard times
but also the pleasures of growing up in Dublin.
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The
Dublin Review, Autumn 2003 - ed. Brendan Barrington
The latest edition of the review has a topical essay by Colm Tóibín
on the way in which Robert Emmet has been treated in a historical context
by both revisionist and post-revisionist historians; Anne Enright has
an entertaining account of the realities of childbirth, easy to identify
with by those of us who have experienced “nature’s amnesia”; historian
Diarmaid Ferriter records the recent releasing of documents relating to
the War of Independence; and Tom Lee’s “Cerology” is an extraordinary
story set at the turn of the 20th century. Other contributors include
Anthony Caleshu, Brian Dillon, Judy Kravis and David Wheatley.
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Dublin
Journeys in America - John Flynn & Jerry Kelleher
Cork Journeys in America - John Flynn & Jerry Kelleher
These two books feature a total of one hundred and two profiles of men
and women “who have embodied the close connections between the United
States” and the two Irish counties. This some have achieved by becoming
major players in the history of the United States, like Revolutionary
General Richard Montgomery from Swords and Cork-born Patrick Cleburne,
a general in the US Civil War. Others, particularly in the field of entertainment,
spent much of their working lives in the United States and made the journey
in the opposite direction to spend some years living in Ireland, among
them Angela Lansbury and Hurd Hatfield. Some of the links between Ireland
and America are tenuous at best; Judy Garland merits an entry on the grounds
of her maternal grandmother, a Dubliner called Eva Fitzpatrick Milne,
while Bishop Berkeley of Cloyne, after whom Berkeley University is named,
was a Kilkenny man who spent two decades of his life in Cork before moving
to England shortly before his death. In both volumes the reader will meet
both familiar and unfamiliar characters, some described with an interesting
non-sequitur. Of Thomas P. O’Neill we are told, “Tip’s mother died when
he was a baby but he graduated from Boston College in 1936”. In a similarly
unlikely juxtaposition of information we are told of historian Michael
O’Brien, “His brother Seán was a teacher and Fenian and his mother
was knocked down a flight of steps in a British raid on the family home”.
These, though, add to the entertainment of the two volumes, each of which
is also amply provided with photographs of some of those profiled.
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Cries
of Dublin - Ed. William Laffan
The discovery last year in Australia of a series of drawings by Irish
18th century artist Hugh Douglas Hamilton has resulted in this beautifully
produced volume depicting the life of Dublin’s poor. Seven contributors
have given a considered analysis of each painting, whether it be “Hae
Ball, King of the Beggars” or the enchanting portrayal of the egg seller
with her young child. The historical accuracy of each subject matter is
augmented by an appreciation of its artistic merits, often by comparison
with other entries. Most of the illustrations depict only the figure or
figures representing the different trades though some, notably “A Shoe
Boy at Custom House Gate” and “Oyster Carrs at Ormond Market Gate”, are
set against a recognisable backdrop. Amid the tradespeople and the beggars
but as much as part of Dublin life, I suspect, is the drawing entitled
“A scolding match at the Fish Market”. There are many depictions of court
life and life in the comfortable classes of the 18th century; the opportunity
to study this collection of contemporary portraits is one that will lead
to a greater knowledge and understanding of the period, and the privations
experienced by those at the bottom of the social pile in Dublin. In addition
to the editor, William Laffan, contributors include T.C. Barnard, Anne
Crookshank, Desmond FitzGerald (Knight of Glin), Joseph McDonnell, Brendan
Rooney and Sean Shesgreen.
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Tales
in a Rearview Mirror - Donal Ruane
In this thoroughly enjoyable series of encounters, a Dublin taxi driver
has put together a selection of stories about customers he has carried,
a selection that includes humour, anger, social conscience, sympathy and
wonder in equal parts. Donal Ruane took to driving a taxi after losing
money in a film venture, and his loss has definitely been our gain, for
his book provides an entertaining but also realistic account of Dublin
characters, from the prostitute whose journey includes a side trip to
her dealer to the young one from Dublin 4 cashing cheques forged in her
father’s name. By the very nature of the business many of Ruane’s customers
are drunk and this can cause a number of problems ranging from having
no money to pay the fare, to being liable for a “soilage charge”. The
encounters are related in an intimate and conversational style but not
all are set out merely to entertain. There is both poignancy and sympathy
in the story of the young woman picked up from Holles Street in “Lucan,
please”, while “Poles Apart” features two sets of people, recovering drug
addicts and members of Mount Juliet golf club, who live only half a dozen
miles apart but whose lives barely touch each other. To the non-Dubliner
the use of dialect in the conversations is a bit tedious, but at the same
time it does add to the authentic tone of the stories.
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On
the Brinks - Sam Millar
The earlier part of Sam Millar’s narrative reads like a fairly standard
account of life for a republican held in a Northern prison, the latter
part reads like a standard American detective story as told from the point
of view of the criminal. The reason is that “On the Brinks” is a fairly
accurate reflection of Sam Millar’s life from his first introduction to
the republican cause to his heading to America for a fresh start which
never quite materialises. Millar spent time working for a chain of casinos
and also ran a rare comic store in Queen’s, and in the course of his working
life he met up with a number of rather odd characters, Ronnie the Liverpool
Irishman who was always one step ahead of the game and, oddest of all,
the apparently austere Father Pat, a priest whose only mission seemed
to be helping the poor and homeless, but who proved more adept than most
at accumulating other people’s money. There is no appeal to sentimentality
in Millar’s story, we hear very little of his common-law wife and four
children, and he has managed to convey the idea that the major event in
his life, the theft from the Brinks store, was a kind of schoolboy prank
that might or might not work. The story is compelling and is written with
a style that makes it hard to put down. Only at the very end does a prosaic
note steal in, when the author gives an account of the various fates of
his fellows in court. That said, it is Millar’s ability to give a detached
view of the brutalities and mistakes of his own life that makes “On the
Brinks” read more like a work of fiction than the memoir it actually is.
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Do
Nothing Till You Hear From Me - Declan Lynch
“Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me” explores the strong bond between father
and daughter against the backdrop of the music scene of the new prosperous
Ireland. The story centres on the aging musical hippie Freddie Dowd and
his beautiful daughter Nadine whose world is changing after a death, a
huge cheque and a new house guest. Their changing world brings them into
contact with recognisable characters - the alcoholic musician, the hard-nosed
manager and the bubbly television starlet with the dark secret. The Dublin
of the book is anything but recognisable - champagne, cocaine and cars;
the money and glamour of the music scene of the new Ireland. The relationship
between father and daughter is presented as strong and open at the start.
Nadine, though just turned seventeen, drinks with her father, smokes without
reproach and leaves school with his blessing; Freddie’s parental control
of Nadine extends only to her choice in music and books. This unorthodox
way of parenting appears to work as the character of Nadine is controlled,
composed and wise beyond her years, despite having an absent alcoholic
mother and an impoverished childhood. This is until the death of Dorothy,
Freddie’s ex-wife and Nadine’s mother, bringing the past and the alcoholic
jazz musician ’Bricks’ Melvin into their lives. Their domestic bliss is
also under threat from the changing fortunes of Freddie who is to be made
a millionaire with his song, “Do Nothing Till you Hear From Me”, by boy-band
producer Paddy Lamb, a character obviously based on real-life Irish pop
Svengali Louis Walsh. The money takes Freddie into the showbiz side of
the music business, a world which he previously despised, leaving his
precious beautiful Nadine in the hands of the fatalistic drunk Bricks.
Exposure to these supporting characters changes Nadine and Freddie’s idyllic
relationship, pulling them apart till the dramatic climax of the book
pulls them back together. This book could have been set in any major city
- London, New York, Barcelona. It is only brief mentions of places around
Dublin and an occasional reference to U2 that distinguish this as an Irish
book. The characters of Bricks and Paddy Lamb appear stereotypical but,
as the book progresses, they reveal themselves to be more than two-dimensional.
The death of Dorothy, ex-wife and mother, extends no more than a shadow
over the book though it opens the action, the newly found wealth of Freddie
and Nadine appears to have more of an effect on them than her death. This
suggests a shallowness in the main characters and that Lynch has tried
to tackle too many issues in the one book - suicide, alcoholism, money
versus art, drugs and music - resulting in a superficial treatment of
all. This character driven novel has the style of a J. G. Ballard book,
drink, drugs and the moral low-ground. It shows all without condemnation,
allowing the reader to make up his/her own mind on the unorthodox father-daughter
relationship and characters in the music industry. The book makes some
interesting observations on the nature of the music business and people
involved in the music scene; from Lynch, a former Hot Press journalist
and current Sunday Independent columnist, the insight can be expected
to be accurate. (Reviewer: Carlene Lyttle)
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