The Dublin storytelling night that’s gone global

Seanchoíche: First events were initially friends-only, inspired by desire for connection during a time of isolation

Few contemporary spaces boast safety like a Seanchoíche event; to attend is to commit to an oath of vulnerability. Photograph: Donal Talbot
Few contemporary spaces boast safety like a Seanchoíche event; to attend is to commit to an oath of vulnerability. Photograph: Donal Talbot

Last February, the Waterford-born historian and author R F Foster was asked to explain one of the great curiosities of world literature: how is it that the sparsely-populated Ireland, a colonised, oft-forgotten about island at the mercy of the Atlantic, boasts such contribution to the world canon?

The list unfurls itself; Joyce, Swift, Yeats, Wilde, Heaney, O’Cadhain and more recently, Sally Rooney.

In offering an answer, Foster, author of The Irish Story: Telling Tales and Making It Up in Ireland, leant into his heritage, and told a story.

“I had an aged Volvo once (this is not irrelevant), and I was on holiday in Ireland in the summer, as I usually am, and the boot – which you call the trunk – jammed,” he told the Conversations With Tyler podcast.

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“I went into the local garage man in my Kerry village and said, ‘I suppose I should take it to a Volvo dealer?’ He lifted up a monkey wrench and hit the back of the car where the boot was jammed with a great belt. As he hit it (and it did spring open), he said, ‘In matters like this, Volvo dealers wield no special magic.’”

Events are now taking place internationally, in global hubs for the Irish diaspora such as Vancouver and Melbourne. Photograph: Donal Talbot
Events are now taking place internationally, in global hubs for the Irish diaspora such as Vancouver and Melbourne. Photograph: Donal Talbot

For Foster, this man’s words and dialect spoke to the irresistible nature of Irish storytelling; the postcolonial replacement for our indigenous tongue that peppers through the novels of Ulysses, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and, indeed, Normal People.

“I thought at the time that could be something that Yeats could have heard, or Lady Gregory collecting sayings of the people travelling in the West of Ireland,” he said. “There is an original twist to the English language in Ireland which is unique. Part of it is the oral tradition of storytelling and using slightly idiosyncratic but vivid turns of phrase – like car dealers ‘wielding no special magic’.”

It’s a craft that Seanchoíche, the storytelling night set up in Dublin 8, yet now enjoyed internationally, commits to reclaiming; the deep and sincere cultivation of our culture.

Founded in 2021 by 27-year-old Ciarán Gaffney, Seanchoíche – a portmanteau of Irish words “seanchaí” (storyteller) and “oíche” (night)* and pronounced “shanna-key-ha” – began as a friend-only event, inspired by desire for connection during a time of isolation. “I was living in Argentina in 2017, and while there, I attended a spoken word night held by a friend,” Gaffney says. “I was just going as a regular punter, before I was asked whether I’d like to help volunteer – co-ordinating speakers, MCing, that kind of stuff.

The other job was making me miserable and this just wasn’t

“I did three or four of them, then I moved to the US for a bit and forgot about it. It was only when I came back to Ireland during Covid that I realised how few spaces there were in Dublin to meet new people and create connections. And this was during a time when we needed it the most. My friends and I were sharing the most mundane details about our day just to get by, just because we were raring for connection.”

The first event, held in the Fumbally Stables, was attended by around 60 people. Five speakers were pre-booked, and three chose to speak on the night – an opportunity Gaffney offers to the audience at each event. “It was magical,” he laughs.

“I can still remember the stress, the excitement, the relief, the catharsis and the shock from so many faces that something so simple could create an entirely new feeling, particularly after our pandemic isolation.”

The second installation immediately sold out, setting the ball rolling for an event series now enjoyed in London, Berlin, Manchester, Melbourne and Amsterdam (“the only thing about doing it abroad is the Irish spelling tends to confuse people––one person thought my name was Seán, and the event was called Seán’s Choice”).

Since March, arranging Seanchoíche nights is Gaffney’s full-time job. “I was working full-time in a fast-paced marketing job as well as running Seanchoíche,” he says looking away, almost as if this thought puts him back there. “I realised over time how reliant my self-worth was on my career, and that when I made mistakes I took it really badly. The realisation came when I made a big mistake with Seanchoíche [he erroneously timed tickets, which regularly sell out immediately, for 11.30am instead of noon, leaving hopefuls disappointed] and was able to laugh about it. That’s when I knew, the other job was making me miserable and this just wasn’t.”

Ciarán Gaffney: 'I think we can all see the power of being a listener.' Photograph: Naoise Culhane
Ciarán Gaffney: 'I think we can all see the power of being a listener.' Photograph: Naoise Culhane

Seanchoíche also hosted its own small weekend festival in Wicklow in July (the theme, “Your Story”, saw 12 people speak, none of whom were pre-booked), with plans to return next year.

Back in January, Guinness’ marketing team contacted Gaffney with a proposal for a partnership on a summer series of storytelling nights in pubs around Ireland. “It’s been mad,” he smiles. “Especially because the idea for Seanchoíche came about over a pint of Guinness. And I’m not just saying that.”

Few contemporary spaces boast safety like a Seanchoíche event; to attend is to commit to an oath of vulnerability. The audience sit in silence as they listen to stories ranging from a teenage penchant for ecstasy to accessibility issues for wheelchair users in rural Utah, from the mind-altering power of sex when chronically ill to transitioning in rural Ireland. It is typical of a Seanchoíche story to prove almost Joycean in its tragicomedy (the juxtaposition of tearfully coming out and engaging in confusing sexual endeavours regularly makes an appearance), and for speakers to begin their story with “I’ve never done anything like this before”.

Personal anecdotes sit alongside fiction, prose and poetry, each committing to an allocated theme, like Friendship, Mistakes, Resilience, or Change. Gaffney tries to keep the themes as open-ended as possible, choosing single phrases that neither sway too positively nor negatively. “I remember doing an event in Dublin where the theme was Love, and I thought it was all going to be about romance or finding a lover,” he smiles, near-breaking into laughter. “But then the first four speakers that got up that night spoke about death. All four of them.”

Seanchoíche events are now taking place internationally, in global hubs for the Irish diaspora such as Vancouver and Melbourne. These are initially set up by Gaffney (the first, in Amsterdam, was held after he moved there last year) who has employed someone in each location to marshal and MC in his absence.

Even in the biggest spaces we’ve worked in, you can see audience members lean in to get every drop of the story

Though such a spotlight seems prime for self-indulgence, Seanchoíche’s speakers simply want to be heard. “I hate to tell people what they can and can’t do,” Gaffney says, brow furrowing. “But Seanchoíche is not a space for pontificating or preaching. Those listening are not looking for their lives to be considered inadequate. In that way, it’s also kind of the antithesis to Instagram; no one is pretending, or only showing the good bits of their lives––we’re all just there to connect and reflect and relate and empathise.”

That said, other spectres haunt the space – the feeling of the unknown, the ghosts of lives past, the deep breadth of recognition, and the overwhelming sense of a room of people rooting for a singular goal. Suddenly you find yourself in the innermost detail of another person’s life.

“One of my favourite times was when this speaker was so obviously terrified, that they were reading every letter and punctuation mark from their notes, before admitting to the crowd that they were nervous. The crowd just erupted into applause. It felt so special, seeing vulnerability celebrated like that,” Gaffney recalls.

Seanchoíche’s speakers simply want to be heard. Photograph: Molly Keane
Seanchoíche’s speakers simply want to be heard. Photograph: Molly Keane

“I think is quite tribal as well, sitting back and just listening to someone speak about navigating their own journey in an open, non-judgemental way. There’s something just so humanising and relatable about it all.”

Although Seanchoíche has evolved from a small friends-only affair to a series in partnership with a huge drinks brand, intimacy remains paramount. Gaffney ensures it. “I think we can all see the power of being a listener,” he says.

“It can be really powerful to just listen, and for that, I will always keep numbers to under 120, 130 people. Even in the biggest spaces we’ve worked in, you can see audience members lean in to get every drop of the story. I’ll always keep Seanchoíche the way it’s meant to be; intimate. As for the future, I’m very excited to branch out into Canada and the US,” he says.

“Also about digitising the platform, and creating a podcast, so we can expand the profile of comics or actors or writers or whoever wants to share their story. I’m also looking for publishers to create a book about it all.” He smiles, pauses, and makes eye contact one last time. “Watch this space.”

Seanchoíche and Guinness are hosting a summer series featuring ordinary people telling extraordinary stories. Remaining dates include The Harbour Bar, Co Donegal, on Thursday, August 3rd; Dick Mack’s, Dingle, Co Kerry, on Thursday, August 10th and Matt Molloy’s, Westport, Co Mayo, on Thursday, August 24th. seanchoiche.com

* Amended on 13/08/23 to insert ‘oíche’ instead of ‘choíche’.