"What he showed us was a classical gerrymander, thorough to the point of pedantry: at one point the city boundary, following the line of a certain terrace, suddenly skipped behind the back-gardens of three houses, homes of Catholics. Gerry Lennon explained these things, with controlled indignation, but at the same time a faint touch of local pride: it was not everywhere you could see the like of this abomination. But Father Wingfield-Digby was simply disgusted by such an example of rustic bigotry. ‘Good Heavens!' he exclaimed. ‘How perfectly stupid!' Gerry Lennon looked sourly at the Jesuit. ‘In the name of God,' he asked, ‘what's stupid about it?'"
Following an idiosyncratic but logical structure, the book leads up to O'Brien's later experiences in the 1960s, supporting the civil-rights movement but sharply conscious of the powerful forces in the wings, and the underlying power of religious identification (denied by so many of the participants). Over and over again, Ulster Unionism is presented as the obstacle rather than British policy - a message that few in 1972 were ready publicly to take on board. The climax of the book brings northern crisis and southern tribal attitudes together, with an excoriating analysis of the 1970 arms trial, where the sacked Fianna Fáil Minister Charles Haughey and others were arraigned for importing guns destined for the nascent Provisional IRA. As early as 1969, O'Brien had been one of the very few to draw attention to Haughey's scandalous land deals in public, and the description of the ex-Minister for Finance in States of Ireland, long before his rehabilitation, roller-coaster ride as Taoiseach and exposure for financial corruption, is unnervingly prescient.
"[By 1970] he had made a great deal of money, and he obviously enjoyed spending it, in a dashing eighteenth-century style, of which horses were conspicuous symbols. He was a small man and, when dismounted, he strutted rather. He patronised, and it is the right word, the arts. He was an aristocrat in the proper sense of the word: not a nobleman or even a gentleman, but one who believed in the right of the best people to rule, and that he himself was the best of the best people...There were enough rumours about him to form a legend of sorts...I thought that, if conditions ever became ripe for a characteristically Irish Catholic form of dictatorship, Charles J. Haughey would make a plausible enough Taoiseach/Duce."
- Teeth
- La Buena Muerte
- Judaeophobia
- Cool It
- Rachmones
- From 'Russia'
- 'Going Out' and Five Other Poems
- The Final Edition
- 'The Ship of Endurance' And Three More New Poems
- The Letters Of Hugh Trevor-Roper
- Lighten Our Darkness
- Poetry
- Folie à Dieu
- New Poetry
- Adultery?
- Reece Mews
- Robin
- Two New Poems
- Three New Poems
- Freedoms We Risk Losing


















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