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Irish Emigrant
Book Review: Issue No.105 (Apr 2004)
The Fly In The Cathedral - Brian
Cathcart
On the morning of April 14, 1932, with no sense of the worldwide headlines
he was about to create, Ernest Walton sat crouched inside a small, wooden
observation hut in Cambridge University’s Cavendish Laboratory and trained
his eyes on a zinc sulphide screen. Dungarvan-born Walton was a graduate
of Trinity College Dublin who had arrived at the Cavendish as a research
assistant some five years previously. The young Irishman arrived with
a small grant and a radical idea for speeding up electrons by using electric
and magnetic fields. His intention was to use these accelerated electrons
to bombard the nucleus of the atom (the “fly in the cathedral” from which
Cathcart’s book takes its name) thereby revealing its mysteries - the
inner components of the nucleus that had eluded scientists for decades.
Lord Rutherford, a famous physicist and Director of the Cavendish, was
intrigued by Walton’s idea and set him to work with workaholic WWI veteran
John Cockcroft on developing a 300,000-volt particle accelerator. Over
the course of several trying years, Cockcroft and Walton experimented
with a range of accelerator designs and painstakingly built and re-built
several prototypes. The machine that would capture the attention of the
entire world for a few weeks in 1932 was ambitious and ramshackle. It
consisted of a scintillation screen, a four-metre glass pillar, electrical
components, a transformer and a spark-gap on ropes hung from the ceiling.
Insulation was provided by plasticene. Leaks were plugged with sealing
wax. Walton, alone in the laboratory, stared in disbelief as countless
tiny flashes of light appeared on the screen. It was almost too much to
believe. The tiny flashes he was watching revealed the impacts of helium
nuclei that had been sliced in two. At last, the atom had been split.
Not only that, but this was the first experimental evidence in support
of Einstein’s famous formula: E=mc2. In an instant, particle physics and
whole sub-genres of science fiction were born. “The Fly In The Cathedral”,
by Irish journalist Brian Cathcart, is the inspiring story of an unlikely
triumph. Despite finding themselves in the midst of a global economic
depression and under intense competition from better-equipped and better-funded
German and American laboratories, this is the story of how a small team
of Cambridge scientists beat all their competitors in the race to split
the atom. Convincing reconstructions of the three central personalities
-Rutherford, Walton and Cockcroft - make for compelling reading and give
the book a vivid, almost novelistic feel. A memorable cast of colourful
supporting characters - from eccentric Russian theorists to boastful American
experimenters - adds further to the book’s narrative appeal. The best
passages concern Walton’s genteel nine-year courtship with fellow Methodist
Winifred Wilson, a teacher in the infants’ department of Bishop Toy’s
School in Waterford. Walton’s almost daily letters to Winifred lacked
intimacy (in one, written several years into their relationship, Walton
writes: “I hope you will know who this letter is from if I omit the “W”
after my Christian name. Yours Ernest.”), but they also demonstrate a
modesty that’s all the more endearing given the mammoth scale of his scientific
achievements. In his Foreword, Cathcart notes that Lord Rutherford used
to warn students at the Cavendish that if they couldn’t describe their
ideas “in terms comprehensible to a barmaid”, their ideas probably weren’t
worth pursuing. Thankfully, Cathcart - who claims never to have taken
a physics lesson in his life - takes the same approach to the science
concepts in his book. There are some technical passages, but never enough
to obstruct the central human narratives. This is non-fiction as it should
be - entertaining, informative, and inspiring. (Review by Emmet Cole)
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The Woman from Kerry - Anne Doughty
In contrast to the usual progression in a series of novels, Ann Doughty
is moving gradually backwards over the centuries in her continuing story
of the Hamilton family. In two previous books we met the mid-20th century
Clare Hamilton, while The Woman from Kerry is set in the Ireland of the
19th century, a country beset by hunger and eviction, and the author includes
in the narrative a number of actual historic occasions. The clearance
by Lord Leitrim of his Donegal lands to make way for Glenveagh is the
starting point of the story, with perhaps the most dramatic actual event
incorporated into the Hamilton family saga being the train crash which
took place just outside Armagh in June, 1889. Hundreds of people were
on their way to Warrenpoint on a church outing when the carriages were
uncoupled to aid their progress up a steep slope and one rolled backwards
into an oncoming train. Eighty people died in the accident. This intermingling
of fact and fiction gives an added dimension of reality to the novel.
“The Woman from Kerry” is basically the tale of one woman, Rose McGinley,
of how her family was scattered after the eviction, of her years spent
in Kerry and her eventual journey to live with her new husband in the
Armagh countryside. What gives it an unusual slant is that the McGinley
family is of mixed religion, and the bigotry experienced by the Hamilton
family in Armagh is the bigotry against Protestants who would not become
militant members of the Orange Order, rather than bigotry against those
of a different religion. Anne Doughty has researched her subject well
and describes with accuracy the different parts of the country experienced
by her heroine. The misfortunes that befall the family were, I’m sure,
common at the time, though the strokes of luck that also befall them when
they needed them most are sometimes a bit too timely to be convincing.
On the whole, however, this is an interesting tale well told.
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The Skellig Story - Des Lavelle
This description of Kerry’s “Ancient Monastic Outpost”, a reprint of a
book first published in 1976, is written with an intimate knowledge of
his subject and a deep love of place. Des Lavelle has spent many years
visiting the two rocks eight miles off the coast of Valentia, exploring
their geology, flora and fauna and diving in the surrounding Atlantic
waters. Using his own extensive knowledge as well as a comprehensive bibliography
which encompasses history, folklore, botany and ornithology, he gives
an account of Skellig Michael and Small Skellig which could well have
the exact opposite result to that which he promulgates in these pages.
For part of the continuing charm of the islands is that a relatively small
number of people visit each year, thus ensuring that damage by the passage
of feet is kept to a minimum. I am one of the fortunate ones who has already
made the pilgrimage to Skellig Michael but if I hadn’t, Des Lavelle’s
description of this remote place would most certainly lure me there. The
very situation of the island is one of the safeguards against an excess
of visitors, for it is only on a handful of days each year that the journey
can be undertaken, and even then everyone must leave the island in the
late afternoon. The sights and sounds to be enjoyed while making the journey
from Valentia are beautifully described by Lavelle, beginning with the
sea journey on which the boat is accompanied by varieties of sea birds
and the travellers have their first glimpse of the puffins which are such
an integral part of the island life. He talks of the thousands of pairs
of gannets on Small Skellig, looking from a distance for all the world
like a sprinkling of snow on the rocks. Once the rather daunting landing
has been made on Skellig Michael the visitor winds his or her way up hundreds
of steps and the author relates how each turn of the way reveals even
more stunning views of the sea and the coast of Kerry, as well as close-ups
of the birds, with the puffins sitting quite happily within inches of
the approaching feet. The oratories on the north peak of the island are
described in detail and placed in their historical setting, and the author
has included a number of photographs and drawings to illustrate the many
attractions of the site. Although primarily known as an ancient monastic
settlement, Skellig Michael has a more recent history and the author includes
a significant section on the lighthouse keepers and their families who
were the last inhabitants of the island; he even includes a photograph
of the island’s last teacher, Joanie Cahill-O’Sullivan. Speaking about
the ongoing saga of neglect and preservation, the author concludes his
work with a plea that “those who shall be lucky enough to see Skellig
in the future must not take their pleasure lightly, nor shirk their undeniable
responsibilities to this place”.
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Eating Peaches - Tara Heavey
Tara Heavey’s leading character in this novel, Elena, believes that as
far as the world is concerned Proper should have been her middle name,
but confesses, “Little do they know of the effing and blinding that goes
on inside my head on an almost continuous basis”. And this proves to be
the case throughout the first person narrative, but it is a monologue
that has a tongue-in-cheek attitude to the traditional boy-meets-girl
story; a sprinkling of four-letter words and earthy references that amuse
more than shock. Ms Heavey has a talent for drawing eccentric women characters,
notably the heroine’s ice-skating mad mother, her flatmate Chris and the
all-knowing Patricia, secretary to Elena’s solicitor’s practice. When
she moves down to rural Kilkenny for a few months, leaving behind her
Dublin boyfriend as well as her Dublin life, Elena finds much she needs
to adapt to and her attempts at understanding and fitting in with country
life are described with great humour. The stock characters in the local
pub are complemented by the startlingly attractive Power brothers, both
of whom engage Elena’s attentions with varying results. However not all
is a breathless succession of madcap events, for the dangers of overwork
and the difficulties of family relationships are all dealt with in a more
serious vein. The author has obviously a great affection for the Kilkenny
countryside which is here portrayed as the very essence of the idyllic
country life, and in true romantic style she ties up all the loose ends
and marries off all the unattached couples by the final pages. “Eating
Peaches” is more than just a good poolside read, for Ms Heavey has both
a wicked sense of fun and an undoubted ability to set a scene or reflect
an emotion with a few well-chosen words.
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Galloping Green: From Dear Distant
Damp Dublin - Marita O’Connell
Marita O’Connell, who was born and reared in Dublin, kept diaries throughout
her life and this autobiography is based on those many volumes. It is
this that gives such an immediacy to the details of her childhood in Dublin,
her distant father and over-critical mother. The family home in Stillorgan
can only be described as chaotic, with rats in the basement, a chimney
which threatens to come through the roof in every gale and a general tendency
to untidiness and a lack of a basic routine. Marita’s mother became caught
up in a campaign against corporal punishment, so caught up that she neglected
her own children, while her father spent his life apologising to his family
for not providing better for them, and believing himself to be on the
brink of death. However the author only gradually reveals the negative
characteristics of her parents so that the increasing bitterness comes
as something of a shock to the reader. The tension between mother and
daughter still continues on Marita’s visits home to Ireland, for she escaped
to America at the first opportunity. Ms O’Connell’s compulsion to leave
her dysfunctional family behind had first prompted her to emigrate to
Australia, but at the last minute her parents refused their permission.
Speaking of her arrival in America, alone and with only $10 in her bag,
she denies the accolade of courage often bestowed on her and insists that
she had to leave home for many reasons, some of which she may not even
yet realise. Her attempts to leave her old life behind were not entirely
successful, however, and with great honesty the author relates how she
began to develop the same problems as her father had experienced, in particular
a dependency on alcohol. However with the help of counselling, medication
and her children she came through her difficulties and found a place she
could call home, accepting at the same time that when she returns to Ireland
she now does so as an emigrant.
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All Shook Up - Catherine Daly
This first novel by Dublin-based Catherine Daly deals with the modern
problem for mothers of trying to juggle family and work life successfully.
Maeve’s life is running smoothly, if somewhat hectically, until the day
her childminder gives in her notice and the resultant dilemma leads to
considerable changes in the lives of herself and her husband, Fintan.
They find a solution to the problem that is becoming more prevalent when
Fintan decides to take time out from his own job to become the homemaker.
However the scenario is complicated by behind-the-scenes machinations
during a takeover of the company where Maeve works, the arrival on the
scene of an old flame, and several misunderstandings between the couple.
But everything is eventually sorted out; Maeve and Fintan resolve their
differences and all the couples’ single friends and relatives become a
series of happy couples. This is an undemanding story which will make
perfect holiday reading.
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Sham to Rock - Gabriel Duffy
An autobiography which isn’t over-dependent on the word “I” has to be
worth reading and Gabriel Duffy has written an interesting account of
his life in Dublin in the 1940s and 1950s. Rather than being a chronological
record of his own life, “Sham to Rock” looks at different aspects of his
formative years with regard to the music and literature which influenced
him. For any contemporary of the author these chapters, particular those
dwelling on children’s comics, music and radio programmes, bring a constant
procession of small sighs of recognition as name after name jogs the memory.
The author’s early life in Dublin as an only child of antagonistic parents
captures the terrors and pleasures of childhood in a basically secure
if somewhat hypocritical society. His chapters on the experiences of emerging
puberty are related with an honesty almost always overlain with humour,
softening the effect of some very explicit language. His description of
the dances he attended in Dublin, from the Carlton Hall in Marino to the
Charleville Tennis Club, are redolent of the atmosphere of the early rock
’n’ roll years, with the obligatory drinking session before each dance.
Unsurprisingly literature has played a large part in Gabriel Duffy’s
life and he chronicles his introduction to Huxley, Orwell and Joyce, which
seemed to coincide with a final severance from a Church which he regarded
as stifling. His time spent working in London in the summer of 1959 not
only presents the reader with a complete contrast in both ambience and
lifestyle, but also signals the beginning of an unwise association with
alcohol that was continued when he returned to Dublin and which caused
him problems later in life. After a return to Dublin and a short career
in the Civil Service, Gabriel Duffy left the country for good and has
thus been provided with a neat cut-off point for an autobiography which
is not only well-written and full of interesting observations, but has
the additional cachet of an introduction by Colin Wilson.
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King Scum - Paul Reynolds
This is an updated version of Paul Reynolds’ account of one of Dublin’s
more infamous drug dealers, first published in 1998. The whole sorry tale
of Tony Felloni’s family is set out and what comes across particularly,
and very chillingly, is Tony’s complete disregard for anyone but himself.
One begins to understand the coining of the phrase “ordinary decent criminal”
when one reads of the havoc caused by Tony Felloni and his many associates
in his own area of Dublin. For not only did he provide heroin to hundreds
of his neighbours, almost certainly causing the death of many of them,
he also embroiled his own children in the business. It is a startling
fact that the only member of his immediate family who has not served time
for some misdemeanour is his youngest daughter, who is just ten years
old. The skill with which he and other criminals were able to manipulate
the legal system in order to carry on their illegal activities while awaiting
sentencing is quite extraordinary. Paul Reynolds also describes, with
some enjoyment, the way in which Tony Felloni was eventually caught. If
anyone doubts the extent of the drug problem in Ireland in general and
Dublin in particular, reading this book will be a salutary experience.
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Kee Kee, Cup & Tok - Tommy
Frank O’Connor
This rather strangely named story for children has a charm that is focused
in the main on the character of Cup, the child at the centre of a bid
to save one hundred elm trees. A quite rational explanation is given for
the child’s name, while her two companions are birds named for the sounds
they made as chicks, and the three of them combine to defeat the best
efforts of developers to cut down a number of perfectly healthy trees.
O’Connor has incorporated into his story the problems of loneliness,
of being an outsider and the importance of following one’s instincts,
and contrives to bring it to a happy conclusion without making it too
predictable. The resilience of childhood is amply demonstrated in the
character of Cup, as is the possibility of achieving happiness no matter
how unpromising the outlook appears. The story will have universal appeal
as it is not obviously set in one particular place, and many children
will be able to identify with both the difficulties and the joys experienced
by Cup.
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Living Under Thatch - Barry O’Reilly
This is quite a technical book, with advice for those wishing to undertake
thatching themselves, but it also chronicles the different styles of thatch
and illustrates a number of examples of thatched houses and cottages,
both past and present. Mainly centred on County Offaly, the tone of the
book is set at the start with a glossary of thatching terms, and an outline
is given of the art of thatching. The book is amply illustrated with both
colour and black and white photographs of extant houses and of those recorded
in history, and uses material gathered in a survey carried out in Offaly
two years ago. The craftsmen themselves aren’t forgotten and a chapter
is devoted to such as Seamus Conroy, Larry Hackett and Emmet Dolan, and
before the book concludes with a list of all thatched buildings in the
county, the author inserts a chapter on how present owners of thatched
houses can maintain the quality of their roofs. Certainly a most attractive
feature of Barry O’Reilly’s book is the large number of photographs of
buildings, occupiers and thatchers which he has used to illustrate his
many informative chapters.
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Leisure Walks Near Dublin - Joss
Lynam
It would be a pleasure to take one of these many walks with the man who
devised them, for Joss Lynam is a mine of information on every aspect
of the countryside as well as being full of enthusiasm for the pastime
of walking. Each walk, illustrated by a map, has a short introduction
before precise details are given as to route, distant and time, with any
interesting features specified, and the author does not forget to give
the location of the nearest pub for well-earned refreshments at the conclusion
of the walk. Most routes head south towards Wicklow because, as Lynam
explains, “It has been difficult to find walks north and west of Dublin
- there simply is not the terrain where one can walk freely”. However
he has included a number of beach walks, the coast walk to Portrane including
an aside about a small herd of wallabies apparently kept on Lambay Island.
This is a typical example of his enormous fund of unusual information
which adds interest to every walk. There is something for everyone within
these pages, from walks taking less than an hour to more extensive routes
needing up to three hours set aside for them.
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