Like many Americans I give into a romantic notion of Irish-ness. I ran through Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes and ‘Tis. Both
were great fun and often relevant to who I am. In fact, I tell myself that I an at least 25% Irish because my maternal grandmother was from Ireland. I wonder though, whether our romance is fact or fiction?
I heard Frank Delaney being interviewed on NPR but I cannot consciously recall the content of the interview. The commentator asked him to read a selection from Ireland aloud. He read the part where St. Patrick confronts the Devil. The language was wonderful. I added the book to my “To Read” list. One day a few weeks later I saw Ireland on sale at Sam’s Club.
My wife was surprised to find me reading a novel when I usually stick to non-fiction. It is difficult to envision the book as a novel. Its histories pulled me through. Like the Patriot, Mel Gibson’s pseudo-histori-drama, you cannot call the “history” here true. But, I think that is the point.
Ireland is a fictional tale of the O’Mara family and it’s intertwining with Irish history. The
seanache, storyteller, weaves wonderful tales that explain who Ireland is. In doing so he captures the young Ronin O'Mara's attention. His mother cause the bard to leave early. Ronin is heartbroken and devotes his life to finding the man. The reader happily follows Ronin on his search.
The seanache's tales are derived from fact but move into
legend. At times you wonder which and whether you can rely on it. Again, that is the point. You cannot rely on the facts but the legend is reliable because it is how the Irish come to be.
I finished the book and last week, inspired perhaps by Ireland, I joined a Gaelic football team. It is great fun and I plan to continue. In the end, it is possible that Delaney intends for us to realize that our present is as much the product of legend as of fact. Perhaps it is even more so because the truth is a lot harder to find than Truth. And, even Plato/Socrates admits in the Republic that for the many it is better to manufacture a past.