The Irish coastline never ceases to inspire writers from many different perspectives. In Customs House to Howth Head: A History and Guide to the Dublin North Bay Area (Shara Press, €19.99) Dennis McIntyre presents a part of Dublin that has always felt a poor relation in tourism terms. Twelve engaging chapters appraise landmark buildings, specific areas and villages, as well as aspects of life and death.
Writing about Kilbarrack Cemetery in Sutton, the author states that “one of the most obnoxious characters” in Irish history, Francis “Sham Squire” Higgins (1746-1802) is buried there. A Catholic who defected to Protestantism and became a government informer, he betrayed the United Irishmen. When this came to light decades after his death, a group of irate Dubliners defaced his grave. Dublin North Bay is also noted for its literary connections. One chapter presents pen portraits of 26 writers – ranging from William Carleton to Brendan Behan – all of whom lived in the area at various times.
On the southern side of Dublin Bay, Peter Pearson in The Granite Coast (O’Brien Press, €35) turns his perceptive focus on a narrative sweep of life in Dún Laoghaire, Sandycove and Dalkey, marshalling a formidable array of information. He examines social change from the settlement and development of villas, with names such as Sorrento and Vico, to the slum alleys of Kingstown and the first council housing.
The book is enhanced with more than 250 illustrations, including early maps, rare photographs, watercolours and sketches, a superb accompaniment to the prose. Quirky images show decorative cast-iron railing spikes used to ornament front gardens in the Victorian era and a water trough for horses, while Davy Stephens, a railway station newspaper vendor, was a noted character mentioned in Ulysses.
Paul Howard: I said I’d never love another dog as much as I loved Humphrey. I was wrong
Gladiator II review: Don’t blame Paul Mescal but there’s no good reason for this jumbled sequel to exist
We had sex maybe once a month. The constant rejection was soul-crushing, it felt like my ex didn’t even like me
Hyundai’s new €18,995 electric car is set to cause quite a stir
The establishment of the Coast Guard in southwest Donegal is commemorated in Guarding the Wild Atlantic: The Coast Guard Stations of Kilcar and Glencolmcille, 1821-1921 by Paraic Lavelle (€20). His attractively produced study, published to commemorate the bicentennial of the arrival of the Coast Guard, considers how 10 different stations were opened in two parishes over various years at Teelin, Glencolmcille, Malin Beg, Malinmore and Kilbeg.
The service came into being as an attempt by the British administration to suppress the growth of smuggling, especially tobacco, since the loss of duty payable on smuggled goods was a concern to the exchequer. The life of Sir James Dombrain, inspector general of the Irish Coast Guard for 30 years, is outlined. He was knighted in 1843 and, the author writes, was acutely aware of the extreme poverty on the west coast during the Great Famine. Dombrain is mentioned in a Seamus Heaney poem For the Commander of the Eliza from Death of a Naturalist.
Lavelle’s book is an impressive historical record of the stations from their establishment to their closure but is not a record of how the stations operated or how the local population viewed them. He concludes, though, that the work of the Coast Guard was probably the least unpopular of the services enforcing British rule in Ireland for the bulk of its existence.
The stories of 11 women connected to the west are captured in Wild Atlantic Women: Walking Ireland’s West Coast by Gráinne Lyons (New Island Books, €16.95). A second-generation London Irishwoman, her foot-stepping book begins with her great-grandmother, Ellen Cotter, a lacemaker on Cape Clear Island. She goes on to profile diverse names from the past and the present, such as Peig Sayers (she slept in her cottage on the Great Blasket Island), Queen Maeve, Edna O’Brien and the surfer and scientist Easkey Britton.
As she walks alone reconstructing their lives, the author embraces the freedom of the hills and shorelines, while her journey reveals a deeper insight into emigrant identity and femininity. She develops a curiosity about the women – all deeply rooted in the coastal landscape – documenting their achievements with considerable research skills and is inspired by how they overcame problems. Although Lyons concentrates on her subjects, many of whom were from remote communities, like the best travel narratives there is an inner and outer journey as she reaches a crossroads in her own life. She also challenges her own ideas of remoteness and what a remote place really is.
One of those featured in the book is the pirate queen, Granuaile. Her story also plays a part in the reissue of a book about her son Lord Mayo, Tibbott-ne-Long Bourke, 1567-1629 (Mayo Books Press, €20) by Anne Chambers. The mortal remains of Theobold Bourke, Lord Viscount, known in history and folklore as Tibbott-ne-Long (Toby of the Ships) lie in an impressive tomb in Ballintobber Abbey.
Saved at birth from pirates, Bourke appeared to be destined to fulfil the role of an independent leader in the fragmented world of Gaelic Ireland. But he was thrust into prominence during a period of traumatic change, enduring imprisonment and torture. Through bold ambition, cunning and an instinct for survival, he outmanoeuvred his opponents. With access to new archival material and fresh insights, the author presents an outstanding portrait of Bourke and of a tumultuous period in Irish history before and after the Battle of Kinsale in 1601.
Voices of Connemara (New Island Books, €22.95) edited by the late Bill Long and with images by Raymonde Standún, is a people’s anthology featuring 51 interviews, accompanied by numerous photographs. The interviewees reflect a range of historical topics including the Black and Tans, Fair Day at Spiddal alongside stories of poitín making, fishing, famine, emigration and landlord brutality.
