Posts

Showing posts with the label Ireland

J. M. Synge's "In Wicklow and West Kerry"

It was the law at that time that if there was sickness on any person in the town of Sligo you should notice it to the Governors, or you'd be put up in the gaol. Well, a man's wife took sick, and he went and noticed it. They came down then with bands of men they had, and took her away to the sick-house, and he heard nothing more till he heard she was dead, and was to be buried in the morning. At that time there was such fear and hurry and dread on every person, they were burying people they had no hope of, and they with life within them. My man was uneasy a while thinking on that, and then what did he do, but slip down in the darkness of the night and into the dead-house, where they were after putting his wife. There were beyond twoscore bodies, and he went feeling from one to the other. Then I suppose his wife heard him coming—she wasn't dead at all—and "Is that Michael?" says she. "It is then," says he; "and, oh, my poor woman, have you your last...

Ireland: Collage

Image
More new phone play. 

Cobh Houses

Image
        

Samuel Beckett on Ireland

Image
Came across this snippet in Googling "Samuel Beckett" and "Ireland" (or some such combo). It's from a letter Beckett wrote to a Mr. Naumann (German) and Beckett's letters were published by Cambridge University Press (alas, I do not own them yet). The footnote (included here) suggests that Beckett's "magic fountain" is an allusion to a play by W.B. Yeats.     And the footnote:     

Irish Soda Bread

Image
I tried making it the last time I returned from Ireland (20 years ago) and it was an utter failure: hard as rock. Back then you saw it sitting in just about every Irish pub; this time I only saw and had it once (in Slane, just north of Dublin: we had a wonderful lunch in the old post office). That might be because we spent so little time in Ireland (only 2.5 days) and barely escaped Dublin (our one day to Knowth, Newgrange, Slane, and the coast north of Dublin). Googling around for a recipe today, I saw little that looked like the Irish soda bread I remember from Ireland: course, brown bread, no raisins. Finally, coming to an interview with an Irish chef (from Cork, I believe), I learned a bit about the history of Irish soda bread and had several recommended recipes to choose from. OK, so I chose one that deviates a bit from the simpler, more traditional fare, but the addition of toasted walnuts sounded too good to resist. I thought surely I'd ruin it (like my last effort ...

England, Ireland, Wales, and Beyond: An Improvisation

Image
The itinerary strayed far from our original intent (it's called flying standby in summer), but we saw and did a lot of what we wanted to and now we're home again (jiggity jig). The barebones trip went: London -- Chester -- Holyhead -- Dublin -- Holyhead -- Conwy and Llandudno -- London -- Brussels -- Amsterdam.  We're thinking about making our own little film: Planes, Trains, Automobiles, and Ferries. The trains would include London undergrounds (tubes) and overgrounds, the Eurostar from London to Brussels, and an IC from Brussels to Amsterdam. The title's already too long but I suppose we could throw in taxis, shuttles, and a lone bike (the last night I biked from our hotel near Schiphol to a small village to use the only ATM). The Eurostar and IC only because we couldn't get out of Heathrow so we trained down to Amsterdam to have a better shot: it worked. Among the gold there was some dross: driving in England (we finally got used to driving on...

The Kindle's Packed with Some Irish Lit

Image
With a little luck (how Irish) I'll be in Eire by this coming Sunday (the backup plan is England). We fly standby which, especially in summer, is a hard row to hoe. Been there before (from Joyce's tower to Yeats' Sligo and Drumcliff), but the girls haven't and I'm glad to go again. To that end I've decided to give John Banville's novel The Sea another try (I've got it on Kindle with a host of other Irish greats: Yeats, Joyce, Synge). I'd read his The Book of Evidence some while ago (I'd also read a blurb somewhere that compared him to Nabokov--which IMO is a big NOT)--I'll give it a "B"--and so thought The Sea would be a breeze (didn't it win the Booker?). When I initially downloaded it I believe I started reading it before Herta Muller's The Appointment . Long story short: I couldn't get into the flow of it (was it pushing too hard to be "literary"? was it me?) and switched over to her. Now I'm b...