On a freezing January 6th in Dublin, a plaque was put up at the former residence of esteemed Irish author Maeve Brennan. Her childhood home in Ranelagh was the setting for many of her Springs of Affection narratives. The honouring of her house is part and parcel of the steady increase of Brennan’s recognition over the past twenty years, a growth closely linked with Angela Bourke’s influential biography, Homesick at The New Yorker, celebrating its 20th anniversary this year. Her works have been republished by New Island, Stinging Fly, and most recently, Peninsula Press in the UK. However, in the years prior, Brennan had been representative of authors who had been overlooked or inadequately appreciated during their lives. When Brennan passed away in 1993, no British or Irish periodical issued an obituary. Anne Enright, in her preface to a version of The Springs of Affection, remarked that Brennan’s gender likely expedited her lapse into obscurity.
The term “overlooked” can be considered a gentler way of saying “neglected”, whilst they are essentially synonymous. Brennan stands as a prototype of disregard for many female authors who did not have the good fortune of working as a staff writer at The New Yorker. Lady authors born a generation before Brennan such as Ethna Carberry, Sarah Grand, Dorothy Macardle, Alice Milligan, and Margaret Barrington, played active roles in political organisations.
Dorothy Macardle, born in Dundalk in 1889, was a prolific creator of novels, poems, and plays, commiting herself to Cumann na mBan and serving a sentence (including a hunger strike) during the Irish Civil War. Her later work delves heavily into the Gothic and mystical, and her writing has seen a resurgence in interest due to Tramp Press’s reissues of The Unforeseen and The Uninvited, as well as Earth-Bound: Nine Stories of Ireland by Swan River Press.
Margaret Barrington, who was born in Malin, Co Donegal, seven years after Macardle, pursued her literature degree at Trinity College and earned a gold medal. She was politically inclined and her inaugural publication centred on the comprehensive experience of female students at the college. Throughout her lifetime, regardless of her diminishing productivity during her marriage to her writer husband, Liam O’Flaherty, politics remained a significant topic in Barrington’s writings. Following their split, Barrington authored short narratives, analytical pieces, and critiques. Her works are still found in publications like The Bell; however, her printed literary contributions are limited to a novel, My Cousin Justin, and a compilation of short tales, David’s Daughter Tamar, released posthumously in 1982. I have chosen to incorporate two narratives from this anthology into collections that I curated – The Glass Shore and The Art of the Glimpse that borrowed its title from William Trevor’s interpretation of Barrington’s work. Both narratives highlight minor coastal societies. Village Without Men, an intriguing story of a fishing village mourning the loss of all its men at sea, adds an unnerving and unique element to Barrington’s storytelling style.
Every writer needs advocates to keep them from falling into the marginalised realm of the supposed Irish canon. The decision of who gets published and featured ultimately lies in the hands of editors, publishers, and curators. An overview of Irish anthologies from the 20th century demonstrates a noticeable gender bias, with a repetitive clique of the same women being included.
Many female champions, including authors and academics, often remain unsung. Such was the case of Norah Hoult who went unnoticed by writer Louise Kennedy until she discovered one of Hoult’s stories in The Long Gaze Back. Puzzled at her own unfamiliarity with Hoult’s work, Kennedy delved deeper and unearthed a substantial portfolio of Hoult’s works which included no less than 25 novels and three collections of narratives. This raised questions about how such a prolific writer could fade into oblivion. Consequently, Kennedy decided to further explore Hoult’s literature for her PhD. During her research, she encountered a disappointing reality – not only had Hoult’s name been excluded from classical literature, but her publications seemed to have practically disappeared. Through her life, Hoult divided her time between Ireland and England. Kennedy postulates that Hoult’s lack of recognition might partially be attributed to her work falling between two cultural and geographic backgrounds. With more instances of her literature being barred than those of Edna O’Brien or John McGahern, Hoult still composed a narrative in the 1940s about the life of a sex worker, titled Nine Years is a Long Time. The upcoming month will mark the 40th year since Hoult passed away at 85, with two of her works, a compilation of narratives known as Cocktail Bar and a novel named Farewell Happy Fields, soon to be published by New Island Books.
Additionally, The Art of the Glimpse presents a narrative by a writer who emerged due to a conference based on the works of Maeve Brennan, authored by none other than Elizabeth Cullinan. Her name was brought to light by Professor Patricia Coughlan of UCC which raised questions about Cullinan’s identity and the lack of conversation around her. Born to Irish parents in the Bronx in 1933, Cullinan secured a job at The New Yorker, much like Brennan. She started out transcribing manuscripts for known authors such as John Updike and James Thurber, gradually making her way up to the position of secretary for the editor, William Maxwell. Supported by Maxwell, she sought to compose her own work. The New Yorker started to feature her short narratives from 1960, often with themes focussing on Irish-American families, matriarchs, and emigration. Cullinan spent a couple of years in Ireland, between 1961 and 1963, and produced her only novel, House of Gold, in 1969. Her literature collection consists of just two parts – The Time of Adam (1971) and Yellow Roses (1977). Her death occurred fairly recently, in 2020.
The literary world frequently overlooks talent, reflecting a multifaceted issue – who is overlooked, who is doing the overlooking, and the reasons behind it. Authors can easily fade into oblivion. A prime example of this occurred in the previous month with the publishing of Bridget O’Connor’s short story compilation, After a Dance. O’Connor, who passed away at the premature age of 49 in 2010, was more than just a short story author. She wrote plays and screenplays, one of which – an adaptation of John le Carré’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy that she co-wrote with her husband Peter Straughan – earned her nominations for both a Bafta and Oscar. Her narratives are sharp and otherworldly and it’s high time to revive her work and that of many like her.
Sinéad Gleeson, a fellow author, will launch her maiden novel, Hagstone, through 4th Estate in the following month.
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