Drumcondra Road, September morning

Patrick Kavanagh is unique among writers, surely, in that he has as many commemorative seats in Dublin as he has plaques. The score is two-all at the moment, with the inscriptions on his long-time home at 62 Pembroke Road and on the former Parsons Bookshop balanced by benches on either side of the Grand Canal.

But at the risk of worrying dentists, the plaque build-up will edge ahead this weekend, when another of his Dublin addresses is commemorated.

He spent only four months at 51 Upper Drumcondra Road, in late 1939. Even so, it was a pivotal period for two reasons. The lodgings, in his brother’s flat, were Kavanagh’s first in Dublin. And although he saw the city as a mere staging post – a career in London seemed to beckon – other events of that autumn made the move permanent.

In her biography of the poet, Antoinette Quinn records that on September 3rd, 1939, a Sunday morning, Kavanagh was strolling down Drumcondra Road, without a care, when he met a newspaper boy with a one-word placard, “War”. It would be a mere “Emergency” in Ireland, of course. But it cut off London as an immediate prospect, and maybe forever.

Years later, in the poem I Had a Future, Kavanagh wrote: "Show me the stretcher-bed I slept on/In a room on Drumcondra Road." The piece of mobile furniture in question was supposed to be temporary. Instead, it came to echo an old saying. Kavanagh hadn't made his bed, exactly (it was bought for seven and sixpence) but he would have to lie in it.

He soon moved across the Liffey, and thereafter established permanent residency in “Baggotonia”, as the arty enclave around Baggot Street was known. Among the writers to have chronicled that area is Brendan Lynch, one of a dwindling band who knew Kavanagh well. So it’s apt that Lynch will lead the outreach project in Drumcondra, unveiling the plaque.

The event happens on Saturday at 3pm. Any intrepid southsiders intending to make the voyage should note that No 51 is at the northern end of Drumcondra Road. You have to cross a second river – the Tolka – en route. It might be as well to bring a map.

Kavanagh was not the only Irish writer to mistime his entry into the London literary market that year. Fate decreed that 1939 also saw publication of Flann O'Brien's debut novel, At Swim-Two-Birds, which was well reviewed but didn't sell.

He couldn’t blame the war for its performance. The book appeared in March and had averaged one sale a day by the time Hitler invaded Poland. But the author could be forgiven for taking it personally when a German shell incinerated the rest of the print run in 1940. Many literary debuts have bombed in London; not many have been bombed.

That and the rejection of his follow-up ended O’Brien’s novel-writing ambitions for 20 years. He lived just long enough to see a revival of interest, which continued after his death, and still does in ways that might have astonished the writer himself.

The latest evidence of his international cult was a book launched in Dublin on Wednesday. Flann O'Brien: Contesting Legacies is a series of essays by academics some of whose names – Marion Quirici, Ondrej Pilny, Ute Anna Mittermaier, etc – hint at the unexpected places to which O'Brien is now reaching.

Indeed the book is edited by Werner Huber, host of the international Flann O’Brien centenary conference, which took place in the University of Vienna 2011, and by Ruben Borg and Paul Fagan, who set up the International Flann O’Brien Society to cater for the cult’s ever-growing needs.

So if O’Brien/O’Nolan was neglected in his lifetime, he’s not now. And the neglect wasn’t all bad, anyway. Had he been a success as a novelist, we might have been deprived of his famous newspaper column, Cruiskeen Lawn. It’s an ill wind, etc.

Speaking of ill winds, the new book looks like a contender for the biennial O'Nolan scholarship awards, the titles of which caution critics against taking his work too seriously. The prizes were named after a character from The Hard Life, Fr Kurt Fahrt SJ, and are for a book-length work (the so-called "Big Fahrt") and a shorter, essay-style piece (the "Little Fahrt"), respectively.

The new collection could perhaps vie for both prizes, which will be awarded in Prague next year. But of course there could be other late entries, yet unknown. Any breaking news on the Fahrt front, you’ll hear it here first.

@FrankmcnallyIT