Atlas of the Irish Revolution a stunning, comprehensive gift

By Eugene Platt Special to The Post and Courier

Mar 11, 2018

ATLAS OF THE IRISH REVOLUTION. Edited by John Crowley, Donal O Drisceoil and Mike Murphy, with associate editor John Borgonovo. New York University. 984 pages. $75.

Just in time for St. Patrick’s Day, the “Atlas of the Irish Revolution” could be the perfect gift for the Hibernophile in one’s life. Warning: The recipient must be strong enough to deal with some “heavy” reading. This tome, almost 1,000 pages, weighs more than 11 pounds!

Irish writer John Grenham describes the physical challenge on his blog: “I’ve tried reading it in bed, in an armchair and sitting at a table, and had to give up each time. What it needs is a lectern.” He concludes that the publisher “has produced the most beautiful book-like object imaginable. But it fails the first test of being a book, that it can be read.”

Granted, it is huge and heavy, but the book may be worth its weight in the gold that fills those proverbial pots at the end of Irish rainbows. That the “Atlas of the Irish Revolution” is of inestimable value is attested to by the president of Ireland, Michael D. Higgins, in his laudatory foreword: “This remarkable book is a compelling exploration of Ireland’s struggle for freedom. … We, the readers, are brought along a vivid, exciting but painful journey as we share paths with the men and women who were the actors in those seminal events.” Higgins calls the Atlas a “scholarly masterpiece,” an assessment echoed in numerous reviews.

To many who are not familiar with the several major stages of the Irish Revolution, that term might bring to mind only the Easter 1916 Rising. The atlas is comprehensive, however, in covering not only the heroic Easter Rising with its iconic occupation of the General Post Office, but also the War of Independence that followed and then the bitter Civil War in 1922-23.

The 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic is, understandably, treated exhaustively. Even the challenges in having it printed in secret are detailed. In tone and intent, it sounds much like the American Declaration of Independence.

The courts-martial and executions of the leaders of the 1916 Rising are covered in heart-wrenching detail. These executions incited worldwide condemnation; it is said they were the beginning of the end of the British Empire.

It is also noted how one of those leaders, Eamon de Valera, although sentenced to death and imprisoned in the infamous Kilmainham Gaol, escaped execution when the British realized he had been born in New York City and, thus, was an American citizen. De Valera lived long enough to become president of Ireland.

By definition, an atlas is a book of maps or charts. Those who love to pore over such cartographic creations will find a veritable treasure trove of 364 originals in this “Atlas.” There are more than 700 other images, many of which have been published for the first time. Complementing the maps, graphs, charts and photographs are verbal contributions by more than 100 scholars from Ireland (mainly), the United States and elsewhere. These contributions reflect not only political and military, but also cultural and social aspects of the revolution.

Cultural aspects treated include the role of the fine arts in the revolution. This period produced a wealth of paintings, plays and poetry. Admirers of the work of W.B. Yeats will be pleased to find in the book, strikingly formatted over two facing pages, the text of his best-known poem, “Easter 1916,” which ends with the memorable line “A terrible beauty is born.”

In varying degrees, the atlas offers details about the revolution in all 32 counties, including the six comprising Northern Ireland. One of these regional perspectives is a particularly engaging account of the War of Independence in County Sligo, contributed by Michael Farry, an acclaimed poet who is a native of that county.

The final essay in the “Atlas of the Irish Revolution” will be of particular interest to readers who enjoy Ireland-related movies. “The Irish Revolution on Film” was contributed by Kevin Rockett, who taught film studies at Trinity College Dublin.

Reviewer Eugene Platt, a poet, earned a diploma in Anglo-Irish Literature at Trinity College Dublin.

Review: ‘Say Nothing’ a novelistic telling of the Northern Ireland ‘Troubles’

By Eugene Platt Special to The Post and Courier
Jul 7, 2019 Updated Sep 14, 2020

SAY NOTHING: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland. By Patrick Radden Keefe. Doubleday. 441 pages. $28.95.

“Say Nothing” is more like a gripping novel than the painstakingly researched, well-documented (95 pages of notes, bibliography, and index) “True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland” promised by the subtitle. For those who care to know more about the Troubles, this is an enlightening read.

As for the title, Keefe acknowledges a poem by Nobel Prize-winning Irishman Seamus Heaney. Moved by the “Troubles,” those 30 years of sectarian violence that plagued Northern Ireland from 1968 until the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, Heaney wrote: “Northern reticence, the tight gag of place / And times: yes, yes. Of the ‘wee six’ I sing / Where to be saved you only must save face / And whatever you say, say nothing.”

Keefe, a staff writer for The New Yorker and a Guggenheim Fellow, uses for the book’s starting point the December 1972 abduction in Belfast of Jean McConville, a widowed 38-year-old mother of 10. Horrifically, she was abducted in the presence of her terrified children, who never saw her again.

It was generally assumed in McConville’s run-down Catholic neighborhood that the IRA was responsible for the abduction and subsequent disappearance, charging she was an informer (a paid betrayer of the Republican cause); however, those involved with the IRA who knew for certain, would “say nothing.”

McConville’s remains were eventually found in 2003 in an unmarked grave just south of the border in the Republic. But it was not until 15 years later, due largely to Keefe’s persistent, clever sleuthing, and perhaps some sheer luck, that the public could know with near-certainty the identity of the IRA volunteer who executed McConville.

A particularly lucky moment came in spring 2018. As Keefe was finishing his book, he visited Drogheda and met a former IRA operative who knew who had shot McConville. This man, his tongue perhaps loosened a bit by Irish whiskey, neither confirmed nor denied the identity of the woman that Keefe had come to suspect.

While acknowledging the merits of this fine work of journalistic writing, otherwise appreciative readers might disagree with the semantics of certain passages. They will bristle when Keefe refers to the IRA as “murdering” British soldiers, arguing that such soldiers were foreign occupiers in an undeclared war, combatants who could be said to have been killed in action or, alternatively, to have been executed for war crimes, not unlike the Germans and Japanese executed by the Allies after World War II.

Commendably, Keefe details some of the despicable policies of the British government and the atrocities for which it was responsible during the Troubles. But some readers will say, “Of course, the Troubles could have been precluded altogether had Britain not facilitated the partition of the island following Ireland’s War of Independence.”

As a poet has written, “but imperial pride dies slowly / and persists in bullying an ancient foe / whose people refuse to remain repressed.”

In the final pages of “Say Nothing,” Keefe addresses a political matter about which there are continuing significant developments: Brexit. An unintended consequence of the 2016 referendum might be what 30 years of the Troubles could not achieve: a united Ireland. Many unionists have a deep fear of such a consequence. Meanwhile, many republicans pray for it even as the government of the Republic of Ireland remains officially neutral.

In addition to its many image-evoking passages, the book includes a few well-chosen photographs that are no less evocative: one of a Catholic priest administering last rites to a British soldier who had just been shot.

Interestingly, several recent movies set in the context of the Troubles, particularly “The Journey” and “’71,” could have been inspired by events described in the book. The same could be said of the Tony Award-winning play “The Ferryman” by Jez Butterworth, which is about the disappearance of someone during the Troubles, not unlike the disappearance of Jean McConville described so poignantly in “Say Nothing.”

Reviewer Eugene Platt holds a diploma in Anglo-Irish Literature from Trinity College Dublin and was the first poet laureate of the town of James Island.

Review: Debut novel ‘In Polite Company’ more than a mere summer read

  • By Eugene Platt Special to The Post and Courier
  • Nov 21, 2021


IN POLITE COMPANY. By Gervais Hagerty. William Morrow. 368 pages. $16.99.

In characterizing this coming-of-age novel as “a perfect summer read,” the publisher underestimates its potential. Surely, it would be a satisfying book to enjoy in the bronzing sun and briny air; however, there is enough meat in its pages for a literary feast during the Christmas holidays or any other time of the year.

Set in Charleston, this first-time author’s enigmatic-to-outsiders hometown, Hagerty knows well what she writes about. Nevertheless, she has eschewed the typical guidance given to young writers to “write what you know.” Instead — and thankfully — she appears to have embraced Ernest Hemingway’s much more fruitful advice: “You should throw it all away and invent from what you know. … That’s all there is to writing.”

“In Polite Company” centers on a period in the life of the protagonist, Simons Smythe, a young woman born with a proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, when she seeks purpose beyond the privilege of birthright. As a news producer with a local television station, she is courageous in reporting inconvenient truths, risking sanctions by her employer who fears losing advertisers. In doing so, she follows the counsel of Laudie, her beloved, aging grandmother, whom she asks, “What’s the moral of the story?” Laudie’s answer: “To be brave.”

Simons is prescient about the existential impact of climate change on Charleston as timid elected leaders allow greedy developers to continue filling in wetlands and covering every permeable square inch of soil with asphalt or another hotel: “Our city is sinking.”

To cite randomly one of many moving passages, there is this description of the burial of a dog: “Angela opens the flaps to look at Cooper, who is wrapped in a blue sheet. His golden fur appears freshly brushed. … Angela drops to her hands and knees to tuck the sheet around him like she’s tucking a child into bed. She leans in, pulls the sheet back to pet him one last time. ‘Goodbye, Cooper. I love you.’ ” A naysayer might grumble, “Well, that’s just bathos.” But anyone who has ever had to say goodbye to a beloved pet would beg to differ. Truly, there is a poetic universality in such passages.

As is the case with many contemporary novels, “In Polite Company” has its share of passages about sex. Hagerty treats hers with an engaging sensitivity: “I lost my virginity to Trip. More overwhelming than having sex for the first time was the intimacy of feeling his heartbeat. My ear became almost suctioned against his warm, damp skin. … I ached, knowing that one day, like all things, his heart would stop.” A more titillating passage is described memorably, “Harry runs a finger down my neck, unzipping my inhibitions.”

Trip is Simons’ socially acceptable fiancé, a law student at the University of South Carolina. From the outset, she is increasingly unsettled with the prospect of spending her life with him. Will she break their engagement? Readers will find it hard to put the book down until they know.

The South Carolina Lowcountry tends to engender in native writers a strong sense of place. This is as evident in Hagerty’s novel as it is, for example, in Valerie Sayers’ “Due East” and Josephine Humphreys’ “Rich in Love.”

There is a generous sprinkling of four-letter words typically not used “in polite company.” Not to worry, Hagerty uses them deftly, not unlike the late Pat Conroy.

Hagerty deserves full credit for her accomplishment, a debut novel embellished with poetic phrasings and splashes of Lowcountry color. Nevertheless, readers who know her family might assume she benefited from some very creative genes: Her mother is an accomplished poet, her father a renowned painter.

This book is easy to read, and that’s a compliment. Pragmatically, “In Polite Company” is formatted in about 50 easily digestible chapters. Each has a catching title such as “The Plunge,” “Toxins,” “Surf’s Up,” “Secret Dances,” “Ham Biscuits,” serving as a springboard to the text. Its syntax and continuity are superb.

Reviewer Eugene Platt holds a diploma in Anglo-Irish literature from Trinity College Dublin. His poetry collection “Nuda Veritas” was published in 2020 by Revival Press (Ireland).