Patrick Kavanagh

On a tour of Ireland, one might easily ask: where are the women? There are statues to a few (we counted just five), a smattering of commemorative plaq(...)

There was something quintessentially Dublin about the fact that, after many years of lobbying for the erection of a statue to commemorate Luke Kelly i(...)

Ten years ago I was a law student at UCD, and the city which had become my second home was about to be snatched away from under my feet. I wasn’t very(...)

You wait years for a Luke Kelly statue, and then two of them come along at once. Tomorrow, the city unveils two separate sculptures, on either side of(...)

Googling a Yeats poem the other day, I chanced on a website, poemhunter.com, that not only displays the text but also reads it for you, uninvited. Th(...)

Further to the subject of cures, which we were discussing yesterday, Wicklow-born reader Mattie Lennon reminds me that certain Irish families used to (...)

Literary critic, author and journalist Eileen Battersby was a “brilliant”, “beguiling”, “beautiful”, “courageous”, “dynamic” romantic who lived by her(...)

Patrick Kavanagh went on the rampage in 1938 when his childhood memoir The Green Fool was not stocked in the window of some of Dublin’s best known boo(...)

In Dublin on Friday night, I stepped into a thronged O’Neill’s Pub on Suffolk Street in hopes of watching Ulster’s European Rugby Cup match. It was a (...)

To most people now, a “cleaver” is a deadly instrument, typically seen (you hope) in the hands of a butcher. But the word used to have another, very d(...)