The most recommended books about Ireland

Kate Horsely’s writing is exquisite. Every word, every detail is carefully chosen and her language has a beauty all its own. The novel is about an Irish nun, Gwynneve, who was raised pagan. She sought refuge in Saint Brigit’s and is welcomed because of her literacy. She is to transcribe the words of St. Augustine and St. Patrick. She observes the crossroads of paganism and Christianity and witnesses the positive and negative of both sides. I don’t want to give any spoilers, but Gwynneve becomes caught up in the conflict as she records her diary of observations and pays the price for honesty. Again, I’m fascinated by the two belief systems, pagan and Christian, side by side, and searched for how that transition occurred.

Long familiar to me, John O’Donohue’s books became a particular solace when grief arrived. I would recommend any of his books.

O’Donohue lived on the western coast of Ireland, and he had a distinctive wisdom about threshold spaces—those places between the life we have known and the one we cannot yet see—and a compassionate way of inviting us to receive the grace that comes as we stumble our way across those thresholds.

Eternal Echoes is one of my favorites among O’Donohue’s books. I am especially taken by his chapter about absence, where he acknowledges the deep ache of loss while also emphasizing that our losses are not utterly empty; they hold a hidden eternity that does not abandon us. I am both consoled and challenged by his assurance that grief is a mystery that knows its way.

I like fiction that is both sad and funny because that approach represents the most satisfying literary approximation of the contours of real life.

This means I like Irish writers. Edna O’Brien’s Country Girls trilogy is a series of three novels that follows the lives of two friends in 1950s Ireland from the time they were naïve schoolgirls until they became world-weary married women.

The books were banned in Ireland—as much for O’Brien’s audacity in challenging an entrenched literary patriarchy as for their frank sexuality—but that (now quaint-seeming) controversy should not detract a reader’s attention from what is a richly-rewarding, bawdy, sad and funny work of art.    

The book highlights the little known history of a female 16th century Irish chieftain who resisted English rule and fought her local enemies during a time when women were socially repressed. The colorful and turbulent history of Ireland during the Tudor expansion is examined within the context of O’Malley’s struggles and triumphs. Her audience with Queen Elizabeth I as an equal is a fascinating highlight of this excellent work of non-fiction.

This was the first wildlife reference book I ever owned, and I’ve never regretted buying it.

I still use it most days to identify birds on the bird feeder or bats flying over my house. It also includes great photos, which I personally prefer to drawings. This is a little gem that I have spent hours flicking through. 

I was fortunate enough to be able to share a pint with Malachy McCourt some time ago at The Plough & the Stars in Philadelphia where he was promoting this book.

A delightfully true Irishman, he was full of fatalist humor and irony, bringing to mind the famous quote by G.K. Chesterton from his epic poem The Ballad of the White Horse:

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

And “Danny Boy” is truly a sad song, but there is one enormous flaw regarding its Irishness: it was written by an Englishman who never set foot in Ireland. Frederick Wetherly, a barrister by day, and a lyricist by night, was asked by his sister-in-law to put words to a beautiful tune she had heard. He did, and the song became an enormous hit.… show more.

I was engrossed by this beautifully written book about the way that things that happened in a previous generation can affect one’s happiness without one even knowing about them.

I totally identified with protagonist Veronica as she looks for clues as to why her brother committed suicide by imagining scenes from her parents’ past.

When I registered the subtle moment that was crucial to it all, everything fell into stark and terrible place, and it took my breath away. Both witty and sad, the book left a deep impression on me.

This is a fantastic introduction to what was going on in the British Isles during the medieval period. The scholarship is up-to-the-minute, the writing is witty and engaging, and it is teeming with original ideas. It’s not a political history, plodding predictably from one reign to the next, but a sweeping overview, covering diverse topics such as the decline of slavery, the rise of parliament, kingship and queenship, religion, education, leisure, crime, and chivalry.

Absent Friend is a heartfelt and heartwarming tribute to a man and his work.

The man in question being Leonard Cohen. Part memoir, with illuminating glimpses into the author's own life, part biography, Absent Friend is the Irish author's homage to the man he describes as full of style, grace, and humility.

The words flow as sweetly and as easily as any of Cohen's lyrics. Recurring themes from Cohen's work are teased out: our reluctance to make the sacrifices necessary to form lasting relationships, what, if anything, awaits beyond life, and meditations on the lives of martyrs. Transcending all the above is the mystery of man's inhumanity to man.

I used my wages as an 18-year-old factory hand to establish the small press that published The God Squad. Forty-six years later, I’m still involved in publishing. In all that time, Suffer the Little Children (subtitled “The Inside Story of Ireland's Industrial Schools”) is the most important book I played any part in publishing.

It is the definitive history of all religious-run institutions. The forensic use of official documents and the diligent investigative work by the authors left no room for dispute about the cruel systems of control which religious orders exercised over women and children trapped in their care with the acquiescence of the state. It shows the world that my character, Sean Blake, is saved from by being adopted by loving parents and told nothing about his identity.