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).

Review: Marital crisis leads to Irish misadventure in Colm Toibin’s novel ‘Long Island’

LONG ISLAND. By Colm Toibin. Scribner. 294 pages. $28.

It was Irish playwright Oscar Wilde who famously said, “The English came and took our lands and turned them into barren wastes. We took their language and made it beautiful.” s’Although not an original observation, this bears repeating: The English language was forced on the people of Ireland at swordpoint, and they made it into something liltingly beautiful. Indeed, they have made it good enough to garner multiple Nobel Prizes in Literature.

This characterization is exemplified in the work of legions of Irish authors, not least of whom are Nobelists W.B. Yeats, George Bernard Shaw, Samuel Beckett and Seamus Heaney. It is equally true of the work of James Joyce, Patrick Kavanagh, and others — including Colm Toibin. Toibin’s prizewinning fiction as well as plays and poems are consistently sonorous.

Moreover, they tend to be meticulously crafted. Embracing the literary notion that “specificity strengthens,” in “Long Island” he offers an abundance of melodious place names. Read aloud: Enniscorthy, Rosslare, Curracloe, Bunclody, Ballyhogue, Clonroche, Edermine.

Toibin continues his excellent work with “Long Island,” a sequel to his 2009 bestselling novel “Brooklyn,” the endearing story of Eilis Lacey, who migrates from Ireland to America in the 1950s. The new novel, set 20 years after its precursor, opens, literally, on Long Island, New York, with Eilis in a marital crisis precipitated by her husband Tony impregnating another woman.

The crisis is complicated by the demand of the other woman’s cuckolded husband that Tony take immediate custody of the baby when it is born. Showing up unexpectedly at her door, the outraged other husband tells Eilis: “He is good at his job, your husband. I’d say he’s in great demand. … He fixed everything in our house. … He even did a bit more than was in the estimate. Indeed, he came back regularly when he knew that the woman of the house would be there and I would not. And his plumbing is so good that she is to have a baby in August.” Then, more stridently, he continues: “As soon as this little bastard is born, I am transporting it here. And if you are not at home. … I’ll leave it right here on your doorstep.”

But Eilis, to the dismay of her devout Catholic mother-in-law Francesca, adamantly refuses even to consider taking the other woman’s baby into her own home to raise alongside her teenage children, Rosetta and Larry. Devastated by Tony’s infidelity and angered by his extended Italian-American family’s intention to adopt Tony’s out-of-wedlock child, Eilis decides to make an extended trip to Ireland to visit her mother on the occasion of the mother’s 80th birthday. After arriving in her hometown, Enniscorthy (which happens to be Toibin’s actual hometown), Eilis encounters Jim Farrell, whose heart she had broken 20 years earlier and who now is engaged to Nancy, Eilis’ closest girlhood friend.

As fate — or Eros — would have it, Jim is smitten with Eilis again. Then, to paraphrase an old saying, one temptation leads to another. Early on, readers will realize this story cannot have an ending where everyone lives happily forever after. 

“Long Island” ends with a number of literary loose ends. These might be frustrating for readers who prefer, or even expect, all such loose ends to be woven into a quilt of resolution by any novel’s final page. But “Long Island” appears to have been written with other sequels in mind. In its promotion, publisher Simon & Schuster terms it “Part of Eilis Lacey Series.” This could be a business mistake. After all, the next installment could be another 15 years away. Some readers may not care to wait that long.

Reviewer Eugene Platt holds a Diploma in Anglo-Irish Literature from Trinity College Dublin. He is poet laureate of James Island.

Review: “Gather the Olives” by Bret Lott

By Eugene Platt September 21, 2024 Special to Charleston City Paper

CAUTION: Slant Books in Seattle, publisher of Bret Lott’s new Gather the Olives, set in Israel, terms it to be a “dangerous” book. 

“That’s because it is about peace in a time when peace in the Holy Land is a faraway, even radical notion.” 

And, it amplifies, “Hence the danger: this book might remind its brave readers of how peace is nourished and how hope can’t be extinguished.”

As an esteemed tenured professor at the College of Charleston where Lott has taught literature and creative writing for over 30 years, his name will be familiar to many readers of the Charleston City Paper in the Lowcountry and beyond. Those 30 years, by the way, were interrupted by a brief stint (2004-2007) at Louisiana State University, where he was editor of the renowned Southern Review. That he chose to “come home” after only three years in such a very prestigious situation underscores his deep affinity for the Lowcountry. 

Gather the Olives is aptly and intriguingly subtitled On Food and Hope andthe Holy Land. The book had its genesis in extended stays Lott and his wife Melanie had in Israel on at least a half-dozen occasions. And although there are detailed descriptions of sites visited and foods eaten, Lott disclaims any categorization of it as a cookbook or travel guide. In any case, readers are offered an engaging snapshot of contemporary life in Israel in general and perhaps particularly in Jerusalem.

Food with gusto

One of those foods eaten — and with gusto — is celebrated in the chapter “On Za’atar.” This esoteric mixture of dark green herbs, spices and sesame seeds is used, Lott says, “on pretty much everything.” In fact, it has been used to enhance a great variety of dishes since ancient times. Indeed, there appears to be a reference to it in the Gospel of John as something added to the sour wine offered to Jesus Christ to quench his thirst as he hung on the cross. 

The author, never preachy but unabashedly evangelical Christian, extolls the flavor of za’atar, exclaiming: “Somehow, in this tablespoon of green and bitter herbs mixed with other spices and seeds, I am partaking of the history of my faith, tasting time and place and salvation. It is a marvelous flavor.”

In a kind of preface to the book, Lott declares t it is not one “on social justice, or political stance, or a solving of the Middle East situation.” Rather, he asserts, it is one about “people to people, and the way, when sharing a meal, there can be peace.” 

The author’s disclaimer notwithstanding, some who hold the state of Israel responsible for the horrific devastation that continues to be inflicted upon millions of innocent people in Gaza — especially the slaughter of Gazan children — may conclude Gather the Olives is covertly but overly sympathetic to Israel. (In truth, of course, an impressive number of Israelis vehemently condemn their prime minister’s pursuit of the war, alleging he is motivated by unworthy ulterior motives. As Kurt Vonnegut would say, “So it goes.”)

Nibbles of humor

The book’s abundance of food for thought does not preclude frequent nibbles of humor. Lott’s description of driving a car in Israel, for example, is sure to elicit chuckles if not ungirdled belly laughs. 

The chapter “Olives in Jerusalem” begins with this all-caps blast: “DRIVERS HERE BELIEVE in the car horn.” He declares that, “nowhere—nowhere do they honk the horn like they do in Jerusalem.” These “Me first!” drivers “cutting each off time and again and time and again” create mass chaos for which Lott introduces readers to a Hebrew word: Balagan.

Lott’s writing style is as interesting as it is engaging. Although some of his sentences are quite long, others are Hemingwayesque in their brevity such as this sequence: “We talk. We laugh. We start to eat.” Or in this salivating sequence: “We wanted bacon. We needed it. We had to have it.” 

Besides such short sentences, he is adept in the use of sentence fragments, something many readers were taught by their English composition teachers to avoid. His mastery of the literary technique called effective use of repetition has a poetic quality which brings to mind the Psalms.

When readers finish Gather the Olives, at least a few will say to themselves as if addressing the author directly, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matthew 25:23)

Eugene Platt, an octogenarian, is the Town of James Island poet laureate as well as St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church’s poet-in-residence. He graduated from the University of South Carolina and holds a diploma in Anglo-Irish Literature from Trinity College Dublin.