Last Friday evening, I had the pleasure of travelling on the train route between Dublin and Wexford. It’s been ages since I previously did this, perhaps in the 80s when I was travelling interrail via Rosslare. Impressively, the scenic beauty of the route had slipped from my memory, making me realise that it must be the most picturesque railway line in Ireland. Its visual allure aside, it’s hard to ignore the abundance of water bodies throughout the path – and not just the seaward side. Among these, you’ll find rivers, estuaries, and even a sanctioned Meeting of the Waters, continuing all the way down. At a certain stretch in Wicklow, it was difficult to distinguish whether the landscape was naturally flooded or artificially drained.
The journey gave me ample time to take in the beauty of it all. My ultimate destination was the National Opera House for a performance of Hamlet. I had plans to dine in Wexford before the show. However, thanks to an unexpected snowstorm, our train was already delayed, and this continued in a rather Shakespearean tragic manner.
By the time we had reached Enniscorthy, anticipations of a pre-show meal were bleak. It was disclosed that we would have to wait for an incoming north-bound train, which kept us stationary for over half an hour, with no updates in between. Eventually, our journey almost mirrored the length of Hamlet, sans editing, thus dismissing my hopes of dinner. I had to rush with a quick snack of chips on my way to the performance.
In contrast to our journey, the production by Volta Theatre was a high-speed interpretation of Shakespeare’s masterpiece. Fulfilling their promise of a “bold new edit,” it dramatically unfolded the climactic massacre in just over 90 minutes, with no breaks. Astonishingly, Guildenstern was the only character I found missing. The popular play by Tom Stoppard was inspired by Guildenstern’s and Rosencrantz’s offstage activities. Here, Rosencrantz was made redundant, not affecting the overall delivery of the play. An interesting fact about the performance at the Opera House was that it took place in the smaller Jerome Hynes Theatre, while a Pink Floyd tribute took place in the main auditorium.
The shriek of heaving guitars from Shine On You Crazy Diamond punctuated the tranquil scenes in the former part, enhancing the hero’s inner struggle rather than disrupting it.
Shifting focus to another story, let’s talk about the late Joan Furlong, a notable figure, born in Waterford to a mother who graced the roles of Shakespearean plays. Joan, post her marriage with a French nobleman, was commonly recognized as Countess de Frenay. As per the words of Turlough Kelly, who brought forward the news of her demise, she was undeniably the last palpable connection to the wartime era of Dublin or possibly, the last inhabitant of ‘The Catacombs.’ Nestled beneath 13 Fitzwilliam Square, The Catacombs housed numerous Baggotonians, including noteworthy figures like Patrick Kavanagh and Brendan Behan, who left no stone unturned in indulging in social activities until the wee hours.
De Frenay had an apartment nestled above The Catacombs and was known for hosting numerous parties after her move to Dublin in the 1940s. Remembering those days, she once stated that there was a pervasive culture of unwavering drunkenness. Despite this, she attributed her prolonged life to her restraint in consumption habits. As reported by the Irish Independent earlier, she said, “I didn’t consume much food. I didn’t indulge in drinks. I wanted to remain youthful and attractive.”
A multifaceted personality, De Frenay flaunted her skills in writing and painting. She was also among the several people invited by Kelly for his upcoming podcast series, which was inspired by the real-life romance that formed the base of the song ‘Raglan Road.’ Despite being 103 when interviewed last year, she was completely coherent.
Switching tracks, let’s take a look at the historical journey of Lankum, who were recently honored as the best group at the Irish Folk Awards, leading me to delve into the background of the popular and melancholic ballad after which they were titled.
The song referred to in this context is a Child ballad in multiple senses, as it is one of 305 melodies gathered from England and Scotland by Francis James Child, an American nativist from the 19th century. The song typically revolves around the tragic story of a mother and her young son’s murder. The main antagonist or the title character, known by various names like “Lambkin”, “Lamkin” and several other spellings, embodies different identities ranging from a bogeyman engaging in blood consumption, a leper, a freemason, a devil, to a common hoodlum. The character descriptors fluctuate as well, ranging between “bold”, “deceptive”, “cruel”, and “long”.
Returning to our earlier mention of Wexford, it is noteworthy how this backdrop indirectly influenced the origin of the literature profession of John Banville. In Banville’s initial set of stories, Long Lankin, published in 1970, a common theme is the relationship between two essential characters being disrupted by an outsider.
This marked the onset of Banville’s journey into becoming one of the notable contemporary authors from Ireland. However, what’s amusing is the initial introduction of the then 23-year-old Banville by his British publishers to their American partners. Banville was described by them as someone with great dedication towards becoming an author and possessing a keen understanding of what it required. Despite not expecting any profits from Long Lankin, these British publishers expressed a hopeful anticipation for future returns from the budding author. They ended their recommendation with assurance to their American counterparts, saying that they’re unlikely to make a mistake by opting for Banville.