Irish Emigrant Book Review, No.45 (April 1999)

The Light in the Window by June Goulding
- In these days when the single mother has become an accepted member of society, it is hard to believe that 40 years ago their treatment at the hands of those supposedly helping them could have been so barbaric. In this book former midwife June Goulding recalls the nine months she spent working in a home for pregnant women run by nuns in Cork. Though she was able to lend a sympathetic ear and to minister to their medical needs as best she could, she found herself unable to change any of the rules imposed by the Sister in charge. These included a compulsory stay of three years unless a fee of £100 was paid, the surrendering of the child for adoption at the end of that period, and being unable to leave the premises for the entire time. Add to these such petty rules as being forbidden to speak to the midwife or to each other, compulsory daily Mass attendance and a total lack of either antibiotics or drugs to help with labour, and the picture becomes even more depressing. Hardly credible, but undoubtedly true, is the description of 20 women in various stages of pregnancy down on their hands and knees plucking the grass, to maintain the immaculate lawns.
The story of many of the inmates, a significant number of them in their forties, is contrasted with the author’s life during her time there, when she was able to escape a couple of times every week to visit her fiance. Her outings to dress dances and dinners, to buy her trousseau and her wedding ring, serve to point up the deprivation experienced by the 300 or so girls and women who existed in an atmosphere almost totally devoid of care and sympathy. It is a subject that has come into focus on a number of occasions in recent years, but in this first hand account Ms Goulding has managed to convey the utter helplessness she felt at being unable to change what she perceived as serious wrongs. Such was the difference between her own ministrations and those of the Sister that the women kept their labour pains secret if she was off duty, leaving a light in a window to warn her on her return that she was needed in the delivery room. If it nowadays appears that we have become, perhaps, too matter of fact about single motherhood, it can only be an improvement on the secrecy and shame of former years.

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One Sad Ungathered Rose by Susan Poole
- With approximately 175,000 lives affected by schizophrenia in Ireland, Susan Poole’s story of how she tried to cope with the disruption to her daughter’s life from the illness will be of interest to many. Although resident in Ireland for many years now, she and her two daughters lived in the US and it was there that they tried to come to terms with the aberrant behaviour of Margaret, who changed from a loving and confident 13-year-old to a lying, secretive teenager who wore inappropriate clothes and make-up and stayed away from the house, sometimes for days at a time.
The author had the additional burden of caring for her granddaughter when Margaret was unable to care for her, and of trying to understand the relationship between her daughter’s addiction to drugs and alcohol, and the schizophrenia itself. From diaries kept at the time Ms Poole is able to convey the guilt, the anguish, the intermittent hope and the subsequent helplessness of a family member in this situation. Rushing to the rescue every time she heard from her daughter, she found herself brushed off time and time again by the medical profession, and it was many years before she received an explanation of the symptoms and effects of schizophrenia which helped her both to understand her daughter and to deal more objectively with the problems presented.
This is a harrowing account without a happy ending, but what does emerge is the strength and support of the author’s family which helps to lead her eventually to a state of acceptance. The poignant and apt title is taken from a description of a maiden aunt by Oliver Wendell Holmes.

The Shadow Player by Rose Doyle
- In this, her fifth novel, Rose Doyle has taken a topical theme of corruption in Dublin financial circles and woven around it an absorbing tale of illicit love, the activities of small-time criminals and the methodology of the gardai in solving a major crime. Norah Hopkins lives with her small daughter, Emma, the result of an illicit affair with Darragh McCann. When his wife and two children turn up on her doorstep to announce that he has been found dead in his car in the Liffey, Norah’s life becomes a succession of mysteries leading to deeper mysteries in which all her new acquaintances seem to be somehow involved.
Darragh and his partner in an accountancy firm, Austin Finn, have been independently acting as money launderers for a number of Dublin criminals and Norah finds that she and Emma have been unknowingly implicated. In her effort to extricate herself and ensure Emma’s safety she meets a range of characters who severely try her capacity to trust her fellowman. The action moves between Dublin and her family’s farm in the midlands, now the haven of peace it never was in her childhood, drawing an effective contrast between the two parts of Norah’s world. In “The Shadow Player” Rose Doyle has created a cast of credible characters, from a reformed prostitute to a particularly plodding garda, a shifty ex-jockey to an attractive author, and has succeeded in maintaining a fast pace in this mixture of romance and whodunnit.

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In Their Own Words - The Famine in North Connacht 1845-1849 by Liam Swords
- There is no doubt that contemporary accounts of historical events have a way of drawing us into the atmosphere of the time, and Liam Swords’ book is an excellent example. The words are those of the poor, the landlords, the public officials and the clergy who were connected in any way with the Famine in North Connacht. The voices in this immensely interesting volume tell only too clearly of the hardship endured and of the efforts, both wholehearted and inefficient, to relieve distress. Many of the letters quoted concerned the Society of Friends, whose practical and unconditional contribution to the Irish people at this time has been well-documented. Less charitable were a number of absentee landlords, and the name of Lord Lucan crops up frequently in this connection, who both defaulted on their rates and evicted large numbers of their tenants. Corruption among those given the task of distributing aid to the hungry was not unknown, with a larger share given to friends and relatives of the petty officials while the friendless, often most desperately in need of help, were overlooked. Some of these would in any case have resisted admittance to the workhouses due to the Gregory clause, an amendment to the Poor Law proposed by Sir William Gregory, later the husband of Lady Gregory of the Abbey Theatre, which meant that anyone holding more than a quarter acre of land was ineligible for admittance to the workhouse. Since nobody willingly relinquished land, the owners of smallholdings clung on in the hope of a better crop which never materialised, and many perished in the process. Others would have resisted entry, or stayed the least possible time, since the buildings were often fever-ridden, and families were split on entry.
One recurring theme which I found surprising, though it should have been obvious, was the need for clothing to be provided as well as food. Apart from the normal wear and tear and the inability to replace worn-out clothing, many people sold their better garments early on in the Famine years in order to provide for their families. There is one aspect of these reports which puzzles me, however. I had understood that fishermen were unable to put to sea to supplement their diets with fish, due to the bad state of repair of their boats. But the book contains a number of reports of large groups of men rowing fair distances from shore to intercept cargo ships and remove as much of their contents as they could carry, which would seem to suggest that their currachs were definitely seaworthy.
Although over 500 pages long, Liam Swords’ book is reader-friendly in that each letter or report has its place of origin in the margin, so that it is easy to browse through and pick out the places with which one is familiar; this will be especially interesting to anyone who has any connection with North Connacht, as will the lists of the passengers on 35 ships which left Sligo bound for New York in the 1840s and 1850s. The appendices also include lists of names, categorised by village or townland, of people who received aid from the Society of Friends, the members of Relief Committees, the names of those who worked on public relief schemes, the numbers in the various workhouses and those who received “outdoor relief”; in fact “In Their Own Words” is a treasurehouse for anyone researching their families in the North Connacht area.

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Making Peace by Senator George Mitchell
- In this book we see the process of the Northern Ireland Peace Negotiations which culminated in the Good Friday Agreement on April 10, 1998. The perspective is that of the Chairman of the Negotiations, George Mitchell. He is a good story-teller, building slowly at first but with an increasing tempo until the final surge at the end to achieve the seemingly impossible agreement. He is obviously astute but very diplomatic. In this record we do not find any great revelations about the detailed background to the talks. True, we are given some general information, but nothing startling or that was not known before. His views of the participants are generally complimentary but this must hide a good deal. Mr Mitchell may be idealistic but he cannot be naïve and he surely cannot have admired all the people with whom he had to deal.
Mr Mitchell is nothing if not careful. His reference to Ray Burke’s abrupt departure from the office of Minister for Foreign Affairs is a good example. “He resigned from office over a matter unrelated to Northern Ireland and returned to private life.” His most forthright criticism is directed at the Northern Ireland Office and British Intelligence. He muses that they seem to have had some involvement in dirty tricks such as leaking documents and a smear campaign against one of his staff. However he then goes on to wonder what they could have stood to gain? He seems to be alone in not knowing the answer. A further unusual departure, especially in present circumstances, is his description of the final negotiations between Trimble and Blair on the matter of decommissioning arms. This was finally agreed at the very end of the process, when all were weary. Trimble was insisting that Sinn Fein could not be part of an executive without prior decommissioning by the IRA. Blair persuaded him that he could not change the Agreement itself at that late stage but Blair gave Trimble a letter which could be read as supporting Trimble’s view. Who was fooling whom? Again unusually, Mitchell quotes from that letter. Is he trying to say something about decommissioning? He goes on immediately to speculate on Trimble’s motives for accepting the agreement, as if Trimble knew that the letter outside the actual Agreement was of little value. This reference to specifics is very striking after so much generality. In personal terms, Mitchell is obviously a caring individual. His genuine commitment to securing peace entailed some very severe personal hardships and he admits that he was not always as hopeful as his public pronouncements conveyed. Nevertheless, he persevered in a situation where he had little to gain except credit for trying and a lot to lose in his personal life.
In general this book is a good introduction for an outsider to gain a general overview of the “peace process”. However for those who are already familiar with the topic, especially those in Ireland, the definitive work will have to await another author. Reviewer: John McAvoy

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The Last Word of the Listener by Eoin Devereux
- The varied writings of a Limerick journalist, local historian and seanchai have been collected into one volume by his nephew, Eoin Devereux. Seamus O Cinneide began writing a column in Irish for the Limerick Leader. Known as “I Mo Scriobhail Fein” and “In My Own Scribble” in the English version, the column was a mixture of biography and local anecdote. Another series “The Last Word of the Listener”, which gives the book its title, focused on the doings of city and county councillors. The author has collected the articles into three sections, Limerick Chronicles, Glimpses of Old Limerick, and In My Own Scribble, and together they give a unique insight into the Limerick and its characters down through the centuries. I particularly enjoyed the story of the first flight known to have landed at Rineanna, later to be known as Shannon. This took place in 1786 when Richard Crosbie, a noted balloonist, landed at the sloblands having taken off from the Strand Barracks Square in Limerick an hour and a half previously.

Margaret Aylward 1810-1889 by Jacinta Prunty
- The subtitle of Ms Prunty’s biography, “Lady of Charity, Sister of Faith”, outlines Margaret Aylward’s journey from being a lady devoted to charitable works in Dublin to being a professed member of an order. Foundress and first superior of the Sisters of the Holy Faith, Margaret Aylward began her work with the St Brigid’s orphanages, which went against contemporary thought by concentrating on fostering the children out with families rather than keeping them in one large institution. After a difficult period which included the failure to involve a community of French nuns in her work, and a time in prison for supposedly allowing a child in her care to be abducted, Margaret Aylward entered into the field of education as an antidote to proselytising Protestants schools. However she was again in dispute with the hierarchy since she insisted that her schools remain independent of the State system. While her work to date had been in Dublin, she then branched out into establishing rural schools, as well as fee-paying schools to help support those set up to help the poor. Margaret Aylward is portrayed as a highly efficient administrator who kept meticulous accounts and records and was thus able to back up all her arguments with those who opposed her methods. The community that was first known as the Ladies of Charity eventually became the Sisters of the Holy Faith, though not without some controversy when its founder chose to be answerable only to the Pope, rather than the local bishop. Jacinta Prunty has drawn a portrait of an indomitable woman who followed her beliefs throughout her life, no matter what opposition she encountered on the way.

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Are We Forgetting Something? -ed. by Harry Bohan & Gerard Kennedy
- “Are We Forgetting Something?” is a collection based on talks given by a variety of speakers at last year’s Rural Resource Development conference. The connecting theme is that of the effect of recent prosperity on both the “haves” and the “have-nots”. In his introduction, Harry Bohan speaks of the need to combine economic success with spirituality and justice, and the subject is developed by contributors who include author John O’Donohue, historian Joe Lee, contemplative nun Sr Therese and Mary Redmond, founder of the Irish Hospice Foundation, who emphasises the importance of finding the proper place for the voluntary sector in the new millennium.

First Steps in Counselling by Ursula O’Farrell
- Now in its second edition, this guide to counselling sets out to delineate the relationship between counsellor and client, and to cover all aspects of the discipline, from the practical to the self-preserving, knowing when to pull back from a situation. Aimed primarily at those who are interested in learning the basic skills of counselling, Ms Farrell’s coverage of the subject will strike a chord with anyone who has found him or herself trying to help friends or family members over a difficult period in their lives. The ability to listen, to establish a feeling of trust, is a skill we all need to learn at some time, giving this book a relevance for the layperson as well as the professional.

The Blue Formica Table by Robert Welch
- In this series of poems Corkman Robert Welch explores the ebb and flow of the relationship between himself and his father, the mutual misunderstandings but underlying affection, the acceptance of the differences between them. The son remembers painful moments from his childhood when his parents had quarrelled and he
“............. learned the grief of silence between two people.”
His father’s rage was able
“to make the food on the plate a blur of silent panic as we waited for your rage to break.”
Welch vividly conveys his father’s regret and rough attempts to both explain his behaviour and convince his son that he did the best he could as a father. He knew when to stand back but keep his son in mind:
“Somehow I made a space for you, a cold shed out the back of my mind where I could keep an eye on you, but limit the hurt.”
The city and suburbs of Cork are an integral part of this collection, as Welch relives his childhood and early manhood, and the whole presents a convincing account of the difficulties to be encountered between father and son.

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