Barry Laverty, M.B., can barely find the Northern Ireland village of Ballybucklebo on a map when he first sets out to seek gainful employment there. But Barry jumps at the chance to secure a position as an assistant in a small rural practice.
Read more "An Irish Country Teaser Tuesday"
Maybe you’d like to write about how reading Peig’s autobiography ruined your adolescence
Read more "The Begorrathon … and on and on: Ireland Month is Almost Here!"
If there was an Instagram feed called Hot Chicks Reading — that had candid photos of women posted without their consent — would it be seen as funny?
Read more "Is There A Double Standard that Lets Women Love @hotdudesreading?"
The Man Booker Prize announced its shortlist for this year’s award this morning, and for the first time in Booker history two American novelists are included.
Read more "And Then There Were Six: Booker Prize Shortlist Announced"
As if living in Paris and working at one of the most famous bookshops in the world wasn't enough, Fallon and fellow bookseller Terry Craven have co-founded de Selby Press with the intention of publishing Irish writers based in France.
Read more "Books Are Not Dead! To Prove It, Here’s A Book of “The Dead”!"
By Niall McArdle WWW Wednesdays is a meme hosted by Should be Reading It’s easy to play along. Just answer three questions: • What are you currently reading? • What did you recently finish reading? • What do you think you’ll read next? • What are you currently reading? Winter’s Bone by Daniel Woodrell • […]
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By Niall McArdle My review of Everything Is So Political: A Collection of Short Fiction by Canadian Writers can be found in the latest issue of The Malahat Review
Read more "Everything Is So Political (book review)"
Impress your friends with your impressive knowledge of all those Booker-winning novels you’ve never read.
Read more "The Booker Prize. Part One: 1969 – 1989"
Dublin: One City One Book
Dublin Made Me by Donagh MacDonagh
Dublin made me and no little town
With the country closing in on its streets
The cattle walking proudly on its pavements
The jobbers, the gombeenmen and the cheats
Devouring the fair-day between them
A public-house to half a hundred men
And the teacher, the solicitor and the bank-clerk
In the hotel bar drinking for ten.
Dublin made me, not the secret poteen still
The raw and hungry hills of the West
The lean road flung over profitless bog
Where only a snipe could nest
Where the sea takes its tithe of every boat.
Bawneen and currach have no allegiance of mine,
Nor the cute self-deceiving talkers of the South
Who look to the East for a sign.
The soft and dreary midlands with their tame canals
Wallow between sea and sea, remote from adventure
And Northward a far and fortified province
Crouches under the lash of arid censure.
I disclaim all fertile meadows, all tilled land
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The evil that grows from it and the good,
But the Dublin of old statutes, this arrogant city
Stirs proudly and secretly in my blood.
Big Ears sat on a chair outside his toadstool, slumped and exhausted like an enormous, docile creature, a mastodon, say, after its rut, baffled at itself. Noddy looked at his friend, at the frothy beard and russet cheeks and drinker’s nose. He looked for all the world like a portrait by a minor Dutch painter
Read more "Baffled in Toyland: A Noddy Adventure, as told by John Banville"