"A Clann Díbeartha"

To follow-up my previous entry on the Irish in Montana, here's a link to the Indiegogo crowdfunding project. This is to help generate income for three documentary films proposed by the local historians. This is a worthy endeavor to document the contributions to Irish culture from its Western heartland, part of Big Sky dynamism.

Information about the three films is here. There's one on Thomas Francis Meagher, the Fenian felon turned famed escapee, then Civil War veteran, and finally two-time Territorial Governor. There's another on Marcus Daly, who rose from poverty in Co. Cavan as the Anaconda mining magnate and one of America's richest men. Finally, there's a tribute to two founders of the Gaelic League in Butte, Seán Ó Súilleabháin and Séamus Ó Muircheartaigh, who inspired today's transmitters there of a renewal for an teanga beo. The Friends of the Irish West sustains this energy.

I encourage you to support this enterprise. I saw in Missoula at last month's ACIS-West conference the RTÉ documentary by Breandán Feiritéar, Scéal ar Butte, a bilingual presentation of three brothers in the copper mines, and their fates. The same director plans to make these films in Gaeilge + Béarla.

The blog entry title today is "her exiled children." This phrase resonates for the diaspora, as these words are taken from the 1916 Proclamation of Irish independence. They remind us that the call for freedom spanned the seas, and that many, as this exhibit displays, responded to that cause from here.

Ag fhoghlaim Fraincis

Tá mé ag fhoghlaim Fraincis faoi láthair. Thósaigh mé nuair chuaigh Léna agus mise go Ceanada ar feadh fomhair seo caite. Bhí dith orm a thuiscint beagán ansin.

Mar sin, fhéic mé ar an Leabhar Aghaidh post le chara ag fhoghlaim Spainnis leis Duolingo. Ní chuala mé faoi seo riomh. Chuir mé an suíomh anseo. 

Tá mé ag dul go mall ann. Measaim go mbeadh ag gabhail suas céim amhain gach mí. Is féidir liom ceacht laethúil.

Insint an h-am, iarraidh faoi an h-aimsir, nó labhairt triu réamhfhocail: tá siad deacair. Níl easca a cloisint na fuaimeannaí, go fírinne. Ina theannta sin, bím ag obair a thuiscint nathannta cainte leis Duolingo.

Mar sin féin, is maith liom a dhéanamh dul chul cinn. Gan amhras, tá sé beag. Ach, beidh brea liom é nuair tús a chur Duolingo le Gaeilge an bhlian seo chugainn.

Learning French.

I am learning French lately. I started when Layne and myself went to Canada during last autumn. I wanted to learn a bit there.

Therefore, I saw on Facebook a post by a friend learning Spanish with Duolingo. I had not heard of this before. I accessed the site here.

I am going slowly. I reckon maybe getting up one level every month. I do a lesson daily.

Telling time, asking about the weather, or speaking through prepositions: these are difficult. It's not easy to hear the sounds, truly. Furthermore, I'm working to grasp idioms from Duolingo.

Nevertheless, I like making progress. No doubt, it's small. But, I will love it when Duolingo begins in Irish next year. (Grianghraf/photo: An Sionnach Fionn.)

"The Otherworld: Music & Song from Irish Tradition": Review

Twenty years in the making and drawing from the National Folklore Collection’s musical and narrative archives stretching back nine decades, this inviting book presents the words and sounds of those who relate tales from the otherworld. Editors Ríonach uí Ógáin and Tom Sherlock define this expanse as ‘a domain relating to the preternatural, an alternative realm parallel to or sometimes beyond human earthly existence’.  Having visited it, glimpsed it, or heard music from it, people tell tales and play songs.

What they offer confronts the mystery of the world beyond, and it provides for many puzzled by loss or wearied by drudgery a chance to enter the imaginative sphere. The fantastic leaps out to pull in the wanderer, but it often repels or threatens those humans tempted or foolish enough to cross its border.

The results, compiled here with two CDs of forty stories and songs in both Irish and English, represent but a smidgen of the material at UCD, but they allow researchers and students to listen in on recordings, as well as to follow along with transcriptions and photographs which enrich this well-designed (by Red Dog) text.  Voices from all but Offaly, Derry, and Longford contribute individual and communal memories. The value of this edition rests in its thematic range and bilingual accessibility into this lore.

For instance, the juxtaposition of Irish and English, urban and rural, widens the perhaps expected territory investigated here. Told by Meg Doyle in Dublin’s Ringsend or Edward Kendellan in Stonybatter, the tale of the banshee (a popular choice for many interviewed) from 1980 balances out the preponderance of rural material collected as Gaeilge in earlier years. Following Doyle’s report, the famous fiddler Micho Russell from Doolin in Clare plays ‘The Banshee Reel’ as the text includes a photograph of a local holy well and a placename report (originally in Irish, translated) on a local hill associated with keening cats ‘wailing and shrieking’.

Séan Ó Catháin tells a legend of Petticoat Loose, who ‘among other crimes’ in Munster, ‘drowned a school master in Coilleagán and killed infants’. The action damning her was being drunk ‘and about to have a child’ while Sunday Mass was being said. It’s a bit confusing, but the haunting nature of such tales, perpetuated widely and doggedly, supports the popular warning of the fate of a ‘fallen woman’.

On the other hand, ‘Amhrán an Frag’ comically contrasts a frog’s entry across the domestic threshold (as told to the Conamara teller as if real) with an invented song by Peadar Ó Ceannabháin likening that intrusion to ‘the fight in the gap of the fort/ an troid a bhí I mBearna an Dúin’.  The mock-heroic, complete with the amphibian converted into a ‘mermaid’s husband dressed in women’s clothing’ conveys the manner in which the everyday inflates into the epic.

Fear, humor, and respect mingle in such reactions to the uncanny. Meeting the devil at the crossroads and learning a rousing tune, for example, can conjure up the clever retort of the human player confronted by the revelation from the next world.  Jigs stolen or learned from devious faeries repeat the prevalent notion that pipers suddenly appear among humans to play before vanishing as quickly. Máire Ní Bheirne of Teelin passes on such an account to Donegal collector Mícheál Ó Domhnaill in 1974, and from here, the reel ‘Tiúin an Phíobaire Sí’ passes (and takes on two more titles in English) into the repertoire of the group Altan, widening its audience and broadening the scope of the living tradition.

Also common and continuing today is the tacit admonition to those walking about not to enter the realm of those who often are given, for fear of summoning them or a curse, no name but ‘them’.  The widespread notion that metal and water protect the man or woman from the fate dangled by the fairy hosts or the sí attest to the enduring (and quietly persisting, or at least not denied) awareness of a mysterious presence hovering near farms and villages, in circles, forts, bushes, trees, or cairns.

Associations of venerable places with the otherworld fill many pages here, such as Fionnbhearra (Cnoc Meá near Athenry in Galway) and Áine (Cnoc Áine near Teelin in Donegal).  Most of Ireland is covered, and much of the past century. Collectors for the Folklore Commission, such as Tom Munnelly, Seán Ó hEochaidh, and Caoimhín Ó Danachair (who looks quite the indefatigable itinerant in his leather vest and pipe) garner credit as the predecessors to the current editors and their colleagues, who wrote down and taped such material. The compact discs show the results, originally on acetate disc, cassette, reel-to-reel tape, digital audio, minidisc, and memory sticks. While the technological progression proves the passing of time for its archivists, the variety of places the fieldwork was conducted reveals the way such material was gathered: in the fields, in a car, or at home.

Labeling this as tradition does not detract from its ongoing relevance. As the editors remind us, Tom Munnelly titled a paper ‘They’re there all the same’ when it came to the question of belief. Elusive or vague as Irish responses may continue to be when asked about the truth of ‘the good people’ or the banshee, the popularity of Samhain, bonfires, vampires, lotteries, and prophecy persists despite a purportedly secularised mindset today. One wonders after perusing these attractive pages and hearing the creaky fiddles or bold voices from the recent past what folklorists a century hence will say about us. (In pdf and online at: Estudios Irlandeses 9 (2014): 195-196)

"Rough Guide to Ireland": Music Review

This features both big names and newcomers. From Waterford to Belfast, Kerry to Donegal, despite the recession which has closed down many pubs and forced many young people to emigrate, Irish music persists. As a symbol of defiance, celebration, and endurance, this compilation from Compass Records artists along with other releases introduces listeners to current styles.

Opening with a jaw harp and autoharp, Sligo trio The Unwanted hint at Appalachian roots, with a sly, slippery mood for “The Duke of Leinster/Gardiner’s/John Stenson’s #2”. Solas, a familiar New York City ensemble, offers a sauntering, relaxed (if still briskly sung by Máiréad Phelan) take on the traditional “A Sailor’s Life”, popularized by Judy Collins, Martin Carthy, and Fairport Convention.

The veteran Donegal band Altan reliably delivers “Tommy Potts’ Slip Jig” which complements Solas’ style. Former Solas members vocalist Karan Casey and guitarist John Doyle join for “Bay of Biscay” by the late County Clare singer Nora Cleary. It’s a poignant tale of a ghostly swain visiting his separated lover, and the spare form Casey and Doyle adapt recalls Pentangle’s somber fusion of space and tone.

From County Antrim, flute player Brendan Mulholland’s three jigs “The King of the Pipers/Behind the Haystack/The Maid on the Green” follow to lighten the mood. Jack Talty and Cormac Begley join Clare with Kerry, two lilting traditions blending for the concertina slides “Paddy Cronin’s/If I Had a Wife”.

Andy Irvine, from Sweeney’s Men and Planxty, for nearly fifty years has championed this music, more recently with Patrick Street and Mozaik. He sings a merry tale of a close encounter, “The Close Shave” by New Zealander Bob Bickerton; Irvine’s confident, cocky delivery accompanies his trademark bouzouki.

Athlone accordionist Paul Brock and Sligo fiddler Manus McGuire combine with American country musicians in their eponymous band. Their reel “Moving Cloud” steps along in lively form, with banjo too. Another type of fusion arrives from Iarla Ó Lionáird (Afro-Celt Sound System) who updates with atmospheric production and world music innovations his native Irish-language sean-nós (old style) unaccompanied vocal tradition. His “The Heart of the World” sustains this elegant, dignified blend.

Another popular collaborator, Sharon Shannon (The Waterboys) on “Neckbelly” demonstrates her button accordion skills. These slickly mingle with a hipper, MOR-type of mass appeal backbeat, not to all tastes admittedly, but like Ó Lionáird, this direction indicates the contemporary influences which—as Irvine’s bouzouki illustrates—enter into the Irish repertoire and attest to its continuing relevance.

Fidil, logically the Gaelic name for fiddle, pluck and tap their instrument. This Donegal trio (with a nephew of Altan’s singer-fiddler) features a local style of “bassing” a fiddle at a lower octave than another. This echoes the uilleann pipes of one of that region’s talented players, Joe Doherty. “Kiss the Maid Behind the Byre/Tá Do Mhargadh Déanta” show off this home-turf choice well.

Gráinne Holland, from the urban Gaeltacht of West Belfast, on “Dónal Na Gréine” pulls off a tongue-twisting tale of fittingly a feckless drunk in sean-nós (with the percussive drum, the bodhrán) impressively. It’s back to Altan’s Dermot Byrne on fiddle who with Parisian harper Floriane Blancke join for “Sore Point” which despite its name from a Chris Newman composition flows nimbly.

As well as Donegal, Clare continues to appear in the pedigree of many musicians; Hugh Healy’s concertina (a feature of that county) and uilleann piper Michael “Blackie” O’Connell offer a welcome listen to the latter instrument in the sprightly “The Hut on Staten Island”—-originally for banjo—-and “The De’il Among the Tailors” from Packie Russell, one of Clare’s Doolin trio of famous musical brothers.

Brian Finnegan’s flute and tin-whistle may be familiar from Flook; here he calls three songs after Belfast: “Back to Belfast/Anne Lacey/Eroticon VI”. Given the latter title’s hint of sexiness, they all sound jittery, excited, and impatient. Like Ó Lionáird’s approach, Flanagan’s integrates world music textures into a more accessible version of Irish music which may dismay purists but which probably broadens appeal.

Belfast continues its representation with John McSherry on pipes and whistles, Dónal O’Connor on fiddle, and Francis McIlduff on percussion, pipes, whistles. (McSherry, O’Connor, and slide guitarist Bob Brozman feature on a similarly eclectic, worthwhile bonus disc, Six Days in Down.) A trio titled At First Light, they pair their new “The Pipers of Roguery” with a tune appearing in print first in 1756, “The Hag at the Spinning Wheel”. These both mix the more traditional sounds, given the pipes, with an expanded ensemble’s guitars, for a pleasing depth. It recalls the efforts of The Bothy Band from the 1970s in this layered, sequentially structured mode.

What would a compilation be without a supergroup? Donegal’s vocalist Moya Brennan (Clannad), Altan’s fiddler-singer Máiréad Ní Mhaonaigh, and multi-talented sisters Tríona (The Bothy Band, Touchstone, Relativity, Nightnoise) and Maighread Ní Dhomhnaill (Skara Brae) combine with Manus Lunny for “Wedding Dress”. Recorded by Pentangle in 1971, this concludes this album with a chorus of voices in gentle but firm style, as listeners to Clannad and the bands in this paragraph will recognize.

Recommended for its fair nods to the various types of Irish music now in vogue, this might please experienced listeners who may (as did I) find fresh entries. Despite the promotional material touting the session and live atmosphere of such inclusions, I aver this displays better the sheen that warm production and studio time can give to gloss these tunes. It's not as rough as its title in this series lets on. So, it’s a good buy for beginners who want to explore less raw, more fluid deliveries via the Irish styles found in many releases on the Compass and related labels, which continue to provide distribution for this enjoyable music throughout the world. (PopMatters 5-9-13 + Amazon US)

Diarmait Mac Giolla Chriost's "Jailteacht": Book Review

“Jailic” developed among political prisoners in the North; on their release, a “Jailtacht” radicalised community groups in the 1980s, shifted republicans towards political accommodation in the 1990s, and commodified a stretch of today’s West Belfast for “struggle tourism”. Dr. Diarmait Mac Giolla Chríost grew up in Derry City. He acquired Irish during the 1980s at QUB − followed by a “self-exile” into the Welsh-speaking heartland that earned him a Readership in that language at the University of Wales. He knows intimately that “symbolic terrain” where Celtic cultural claims to political independence reverberate as personal recovery of native tongues. 

He combines engagement with distance. The combination of the two standpoints leads him to analyse Irish as “the defining symbolic element of the political violence that has shaped the history of Northern Ireland and, to a great extent, the relationship between the UK and the Republic of Ireland”. By interviews with ex-prisoners, he explains Jailic’s acquisition, its use as formulaic “language strings”, and its sociological impacts. Graffiti and mural depictions, along with archival and online research, demonstrate his diligence. (I appear among those “ordinary cybercitizens” documented who address Jailic in a “public space”.) 

Historical contexts precede chapters respectively on close readings for stylistics; the “performativity” of managing incarceration, creating social identities, and building a “sense of place”; signs and murals as “visual grammar”; and  ideology in the “grey literature” produced by republicans − and loyalists. 

He locates the emergence of “Jailtacht” not in Long Kesh’s cages of the early 1970s but in the mid-1980s, after the 1976 reversal of political to criminal status among republicans incarcerated — when “Jailic” itself was coined. After the hunger strikes, prisoners circumvented an Irish ban. Blanket protesters on a wing shouted out phrases at set times of day, with varying levels of fluency. Gearóid Mac Siacais recalls: “Thosaigh an Ghaeilge ar bhonn slándála agus chríochnaigh sé mar theanga labharta na blocanna.” (“The Irish language started as a basis for security but ended up as the spoken language of the Blocks.”) This transformation in the late 1970s, over eighteen months, enabled Irish to be spoken by three hundred rather than the seven or eight inmates who had carried the language into the H-Blocks from the Cages.

Some cellmates may have been less eager, but spoken (or shouted) Irish dominated. Texts were smuggled in (and out); nails scraped lessons into concrete. Prisoners deployed Irish against “criminalization”. A post-strike lull in fluency was countered by an intensive six-week course smuggled in by Máirtín Ó Muilleoir. By the late 1980s, constant Irish infiltrated his dreams, Séanna Walsh confides. 

Mac Giolla Chríost delineates usage. As argot, tokens as catch phrases peppered English speech. As a medium for deeper communication, Jailic’s divergence from Gaelic norms − given limited or no opportunities for formal education − evolved into “rough, natural accents” and rote idioms acquired by repetition rather than effort. The “comms” shared in the blanket protests and hunger strikes, as well as texts by Bobby Sands, Gerry Adams and comrades, display orthographic and articulated distinctions from, or similarities to, Irish outside prison. By the mid-1990s, the imprisonment of republicans schooled in Irish, as well as access to external materials, signaled a “fossilization” of Jailic as markers of its diction and pronunciation persisted among its freed inmates. This spread into poetry, plays, and films about the Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, the Irish-speaking community of the Lark, in honor of Bobby Sands’ pen-name.

Performance of Irish forced a congenial space within prison. Filthy walls filled with scrawled vocabulary, while the Jailtacht encouraged collegial teaching of the language, rather than student-pupil hierarchies. 

The Gaelicisation of given names (as with Sands) proves an intriguing case study in how diligently and imaginatively prisoners and activists adopted or adapted identities to further ideological commitments.

These, in turn, gained proclamation, frequently in the Gaelic font, on murals, as street names, and in signs. These appeared within the Shaw’s Road Belfast emerging Gaeltacht, and as daubed slogans or graffiti elsewhere in that city or Derry. Monuments to the fallen, banners in demonstrations, and paintings asserting solidarity by the incorporation of Basque, Arabic, or Catalan content show the wider cultural components associated by Irish-language leftists with nationalist or radical insurgencies abroad.

“Fianna Fáil Gaelic and Sinn Féin Irish” sums up ideological squabbles and linguistic shibboleths amidst political deviations from conventional Irish conceptions of language: in its teaching, its form, and in its public role as the “first official language” of the Republic. Not only loyalists but nationalists debate its state-sponsored funding or subversively anti-establishment presence. Within the Jailtacht, Irish became a living language once again, while the Gaeltachtaí struggled to sustain Gaeilge as a communal channel of exchange and a personally chosen signifier. Additionally, claims of Irish-language acquisition linked (arguably in fetishised or tokenistic manner) rebellious republicans from the old IRA with those who swelled its Provisional ranks five decades later. This origin myth generated an “invented tradition” of an iconic, subversive Irish passed down decades behind bars.

This book concludes: “language is too powerful a tool not to be political”. Despite the cross-border and post-GFA efforts to ease Irish out of its Northern and republican contexts, this study argues for the potency of Jailic. For, spawned under repression, it reclaims and appropriates by “strength, power, and dominance”. Language endures against oppression and occupation. Symbolically, Jailic stands for Irish resistance. (To Estudios Irlandeses 8 [2012]: 189-190; 3-23-13 to Amazon US)

Ag dul ar ais go dtí Tolkien

Ar ndóigh, léigh mé go minic agus go leor. Chuir mé leirmheasannaí ar leabhair anseo beagnach gach lá eile. Mar sin féin, ní bíonn mé scríobh oiread faoi leabhair go raibh mé ath-léamh aríst ann.

Éist mé go téip le J.R.R. Tolkien ag labhairt roinnt le a scéaltaí ar tseachtaine seo caite. Bhí cuimhne liom an spraoi nuair fuair mé faoi Gollum agus Bilbo san uaimh. Insíonn Tolkien seo le fuinneamh. 

D'fhoglaim faoi "An Hobad, no Anonn agus Ar Ais Arís" nuair a bhí mé deich mbliana d'aois. Thúg máite rang cúig ar iasacht dom. Ansin, cheannaigh mé leaghtha bosca "Tiarnaí le Fánnaí" le Ballantine le haghaidh ar an praghas le $2.85 leis mo liúntas féin.

Ach, ní raibh ag críochnaithe an leabhar mór sin ann. Stop mé os comhair an chaibadil seo caite. Ní raibh mé ag iarraidh é ar deireadh.

Thósaim "An Hobad" é anois leis tuiscint faoi ar thromchúis mall ag fás go fíu. Tuigim seo ina chaibadil féin. Beidh mé eachtraíochta go fheicéail Lár-Domhain mar dhuine fásta, níos mó ná daichead bliain níos déanái.

Going back to Tolkien.

Of course, I read often and a lot. I put book reviews here almost every other day. Nevertheless, I don't write as much about books that I re-read again.

I listened to a tape of J.R.R. Tolkien reciting sections from his stories last week. I remembered the enjoyment when I found out about Gollum and Bilbo in the cave. Tolkien tells this with vigor.

I learned about "The Hobbit, or There and Back Again" when I was ten years old. A classmate in fifth grade lent it to me. Then, I bought the box set "The Lord of the Rings" from Ballantine at the price of $2.85 with my own allowance.

But, I did not finish that big book then. I stopped before the last chapter. I did not want it to end.

I start "The Hobbit" now with an understanding about the slow seriousness growing. I perceive this in the first chapter, even. It will be an adventure to see Middle-Earth as an adult, more than forty years later.

P.S. Biolbo Baigin: Eolas faoi "An Hobad" i aistríuchán Gaeilge /Information about "The Hobbit" translated into Irish. Bhí a fhios ag Tolkien Gaeilge air-- ach ní raibh grá liom é. Tolkien knew Irish--but he had no love for it.

Gaeilge: ag spreagadh nó ag fáil bháis?

Chonaic mé seo nuair ag lorg ar an líne. Ní mheas mé go raibh ró-dhrúisiúil. Ach, b'fhéidir duine eile go mbeadh n-aontaíonn.

Sílim go feadfaidh is cuma é. Ar ndóigh, níl moran cainteoirí dúchais anois. Tá beagnach gach duine againn foghlaimeoirí.

Mar sin, ní mór duinn a spreagadh a úsáid "ár theanga féin"! Níl easca a labhair as Gaeilge amháin in Éirinn féin. Iarr Manchán Magan a dhéanamh seo go cruinn go díreach dhá uair sa 2007 agus 2008 ansin.

Léigh agallamh leis Antoine Ó Flatharta tamall ó shin. Rúgadh agus tógadh i gConamara Thuas, pléadh an drámadóir faoi "an cheist teanga." Dúirt sé a lig "ag fáil bháis leis dínit" a dteanga féin.

Ar an taobh eile, bíonn duine eigin ag dul Gaeilge ina scoileannaí agus na cathrachaí i bhfeabhas ag timpeall muid ar fud a domhain agus in an tir ducháis. Ma fheiceann daoine ógra an 'póstaer inchonspóide', fiafaidh siadsan faoi é. Gan amhras, baois na hóige go treoraigh go gaois don aois!

Irish: delighting or dying?

I saw this when searching online. I don't reckon it was too lusty. But, perhaps other people might not agree.               

I think that it doesn't matter. Of course, there's not many native speakers now. There's few but learners among every one of us.      

Therefore, there's a need for us to enjoy 'our own tongue'! It's not easy to converse in only Irish in Ireland itself. Manchán Magan tried this precisely so twice in 2007 and 2008 there.

I read an interview with Antoine Ó Flatharta a while ago. Born and raised in South Conamara, the playwright discussed "the language question."  He said to let his own language "die with dignity."

On the other hand, some people are changing Irish in schools and in cities for the better all around us across the globe and in the native land. If young folks see the 'controversial poster', they may themselves ask about it. Without a doubt, the folly of youth may lead to the wisdom of elders!

Póstaer Inchonspóide/ Questionable Poster
Very loose translation: "It's possible to use your own tongue. Can you do it? Start using your own tongue! Speak Irish."

"Altan: 25th Anniversary Celebration": Music Review

Earlier reviews at Amazon US have been tepid. I admit this collaboration's not the way I prefer hearing Altan. I heard Mairéad play with local Donegal fiddlers and sat six feet from her in a tiny village hall, and that was preferable.

Still, this is not as MOR as I feared. I wrote my review below before logging on to Amazon and finding others had heard it and rubbished it. I am not a big fan of such orchestral efforts, but I listened with an open ear, and I hope you do too. After 25 years they may be edging towards the Chieftains film accompaniment route and that'd be a letdown for me, but this isn't "Celtic Women," in my opinion, either. Here's the review as I wrote it-- for an introduction to people who might not have heard them---

This gathers favorite material from arguably Ireland’s leading traditional ensemble. A quarter-century together, Altan here roams into the orchestral, cinematic, epic realm. Recorded with the Irish radio-television orchestra, the songs alternate lots of strings with the Co. Donegal fiddled and strummed expertise that established this band’s reputation.

Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh’s direct, wistful vocals offer a contemplative, yearning quality that in this production luckily finds sensitive balance with the massed instrumentation. The group manages to keep their accompaniment muted to allow her singing, often in her native Irish, to float over the woodwinds and flutes. These may remind listeners of the countryside and its wandering lovers about which the lyrics often reflect, as on Cití na gCumann, or the closing lullaby Dún Do Shúil.

Bouzouki player Ciarán Curran, fiddler Ciarán Tourish, guitarist Mark Kelly, and accordionist Dermot Byrne all deliver solid-- if rather understated at times as is necessary in the concert setting-- backing along with Ní Mhaonaigh’s own fiddling. The melancholy airs that this group favors may be heightened by the dedication of this album to Mairéad’s father, himself a musician in a long line of such.

How does this soulful music manage to be honest rather than sentimental? The band lets up and lets the strings take over, and then returns to gently assert its own dynamics. Often, on other records, this combination of orchestra with other genre players washes the tunes into an overlay of symphonic gloss, and vocalists may struggle to be heard above perhaps ninety players --rather than four or five bandmates. But, the group on Dónal agus Mórag holds back so Ní Mhaonaigh’s articulation of tricky Gaelic staccato can be heard clearly, freed in the verse and then backed by the chorus. As this song builds, so gradually does the orchestra, ending in percussive triumph. This depth highlights the back-and-forth nature of this production by the band with arranger Fiachra Trench, which offers more scope than a conventional folk recording.

Fans of The Chieftains, whose music over their own half-century evolved into this type of collaboration, may welcome a chance to hear Altan in this venue. Comb Your Hair and Curl It/ Gweebarra Bridges represent a similar melding of traditional with orchestral arrangements. While their own intimate early efforts (the first five studio recordings released in America on Green Linnet are recommended over their later EMI or Narada New Age-tinged albums) offer the best introductions to this group’s charm, this well-chosen sampler from ten albums may tempt newcomers towards their back catalogue.

The pacing of the tunes accentuates their stately quality. Molly na gCuach Ní Chuilleannáin recalls pre-synthesizer Clannad (from the same district as Altan) with its massed vocals and rhythmic pace. They cover one of Clannad’s best tunes, Gleanntain Ghlas Ghaoth Dhobhair, which was adapted into The Shamrock Shore, itself well sung by both Paul Brady and Horslips. This typical interplay of the Irish tradition with its modern interpreters shows Altan’s ability to popularize its heritage while staying close to its roots—which are in Gaoth Dhobhair on the remote northwest coast of Co. Donegal.

The Christmas tune Soilse na Nollaig and the standby As I Roved Out slow the direction down a bit too much, but what follows is memorable. This is The Sunset, composed by Seamus Quinn and Cathal McConnell, all the way from their 1987 début. Its gently rippling melody, once rendered by their late flautist Frankie Kennedy, deserves its reprise here alongside Byrne’s nimble support. With such a range of feeling and expression of moods that Altan conveys, their innovations here show continued love for the music and a delight in delivering it with respect and affection.

(Posted to Amazon US 5-12-10 with the italicized part added; featured on PopMatters 6-14-10; the rest originally for "CDRoots.com" and their "RootsWorld Bulletin" site, the great online magazine and store for world music.)

Droid nua ach níl as Gaeilge fós

Céard ábhair Gaeilge ar an guthán cliste atá úsaid leis an Motorola Droid? Conas i gcomórtas an Droid ag baint leis i-Fón ? Ní bhíonn beag is ionann iad--ar ball beag ar an laghad.

Ní thabharfá Droid samhail ar bith dhó ach an ghréasán cúig déag blianta ó shin. Mar sin, tá beagán air a cabhair foghlaimeoirai fasta ansin fós. Nuair cheannaigh mé Droid nua faoi deireanach, cuairdaigh mé go tapaidh ag lorg le rúdai Gaeilge anseo.

Chuir Dónal mo chara ar an Leabhar hAghaidh fógra suas ar an i-Fón leis Buntus Cainte. Is maith liom a feiceáil na taipeannaí seo ag le cur a cuidiú le duine a tuig an teanga beo. Scríobh sé orm go mbeidh feidhmeannaí Gaeilge a tionscadal leis Google sa idirlinn le Droid.

Idir an dá linn, cé acu feidhmeannaí Gaeilge go bhfaighe tú ina margadh Dhroid go dtí seo? Fuair mé dhá ceistiúchán splanc-cartaí. Chonaic mé dhá clár ag labhairt: UTalk le EuroTalk agus BYKI Irish le Transparent Language.

Tá foclóir poca le Collins freisin anseo. Níl ábalta tú ag fáil rúdaí saor, mar sin féin, ach ceann é. Sin é aistritheoir fhurasta: Get the Focal.com. Iarraim feidhmeannaí as Gaeilge go leor go luath ar Dhroid amárach.

New Droid, but nil in Irish now.

What materials in Irish on a smartphone are there to use with the Motorola Droid? How to compare the Droid with the iPhone in this respect? They aren't to be compared--for now at any rate.

You could compare it to nothing but the Web fifteen years ago. That is, there's little to help adult learners there yet. When I bought a Droid recently, I searched quickly looking for Irish things here.

My friend Daniel put on Facebook a notice up on the iPhone with Buntus Cainte. I was pleased to see these tapes adapted to help people understand the living tongue. He wrote me that there will be Irish applications that will be developed with Google in the meantime for the Droid.

Meanwhile, which Irish materials will you find in the Droid market so far? I found two quizzes with flashcards. I saw two talking programs, UTalk by EuroTalk and BYKI Irish by Transparent Language.

There's a pocket dictionary from Collins there also. You're not able to get free things, all the same, but one. That's a simple translator: Get the Focal.com. I await materials in Irish galore for the Droid in the future.

"Beckett, Buddhism & the Void": my article

"Beckett, Buddhism & the Void": Horizon Review 4(2010). "Always the big questions," that writer sighed. Posed in front of Niagara Falls, as close to the abyss as I dared, my squinting self introduces this reflection on not only the great Irish writer, but scattered allusions (if not his!) to dharma, as well as 'brane' theory and cosmological speculations that hearken back-- before even the Big Bang. I try to tackle one Big Question, if in three thousand words, as edited in the Arts Section by Dr. Mark A. Williams of Cambridge (now at Oxford) for this fine production helmed by Jane Holland.

There's a lot more to educate and entertain. Here's issue four's Table of Contents. Roam freely on this Horizon into literary and artistic realms of poetry, translations, short stories, interviews, reviews, and essays. In her introduction to this "little magazine" in the spirit of Cyril Connolly's effort, Holland concludes:

I intend Horizon to be like that thin steely line of the literal horizon, a place of new exchanges and opportunities, occupying both sides of the argument, an alluring view of the future, where one thing is always ending and another just beginning, where anything could happen — and definitely will.

I'd concur that this enterprise sustains that elegant, refined, slightly chilled or gently acerbic register of good-natured, grousingly erudite British-style criticism. Not clotted with theoretical jargon or tarred by score setting. Please visit Horizon Review yourself. I'm happy to be among such distinguished peers.

P.S. As adapted to that article, I've reviewed Paul Foster's Beckett & Zen. My 2005 chapter (In: "Beckett, Joyce, and the Art of the Negative," European Joyce Studies 16, ed. Colleen Jaurretche. Amsterdam: Rodopi, pp. 109-24) on "Beckett's Purgatories" alluded therein can be linked to for $20 (royalties to not me, but publisher) via Ingenta or High Beam portals. Google Books previews/chops it. When I wrote this, I'd found its pdf online--I'll send it to you gratis--but no more when I checked in 2012 to update this footnote. You have to return and try, try again, fail, fail harder, as Beckett would phrase it. Somehow fitting, this repetition, this return to where we begin, and before it, and after.

Photo: Wild card image search result. Barbara Gosza's album titled "Beckett & Buddha." LastFM compares this Chicago-born singer-songwriter of Czech parentage "with plaintive but intense songs sung in a touchingly fragile luminous voice" to Rickie Lee Jones or Townes Van Zandt "whilst evoking a Germanic world-weary angst reminiscent of Marianne Faithfull." She reminds me of one of Kafka's lovers. Figured you'd rather look at her face than mine. Or the Void.

Malachi O'Doherty's "The Telling Year: Belfast 1972": Book Review

Living next to an IRA arms dump, how'd you fare covering the Troubles for a Belfast newspaper allied with the Establishment? O'Doherty recalls his job at the Sunday News during Northern Ireland's deadliest escalation. His account blends his coming-of-age with journalistic challenges as he must balance discretion with honesty.

Marked by his name, a native of a West Belfast republican stronghold, O'Doherty explains how he survived 1972 professionally and personally. Fascinated but appalled by the dangers created by many of his Andersonstown neighbors, reporting "would suit my need to be part of the adventure of chaos without my having to be brutal or accept anyone's orders. Journalism would satisfy my detachment from the raw charge of enthusiasm for war which had overtaken so many people around me." (5)

The Sunday edition of the Belfast News Letter (by the way the oldest newspaper in existence, I believe) traditionally had hired Protestants, so O'Doherty, who finds his byline shortened to "Mal" at times, must tread warily. The paper strives for a readership "free to plan a holiday, to move house, to contemplate a changed diet, to ogle girls' bottoms or marvel at those lovely little animals in the zoo, while the city was bombed to meet [Saturday night for the Sunday edition] deadlines and no one knew why-- not even a Westminster MP for a local constituency, who thought we were being invaded by Russians." (30) Such municipal naivete doubtless would not last long in the enclaves where O'Doherty lived, but as he reminds us, much of his province then enjoyed peace and outside a few urban areas, one would not know of the war-torn strife that filled reliably so many front page headlines. Inside his paper, after the "bombs and bullets," it seemed like another British tabloid "unruffled in its petty concerns."

This leads to complications. "There was no etiquette established by which a Catholic might sympathize with a Protestant his neighbour had bombed." (64) Daily outrages, tit-for-tat sectarian shootings, finger-pointing and hypocritical "whataboutery" permeate conversations; often muttered among those at the paper, who awkwardly strive for objectivity despite their own inevitable loyalties and small rebellions.

The jittery nature of enduring everyday strain tells. The IRA wants to make occupied Ulster ungovernable. They claim a defensive campaign but attack not only their uniformed enemies but those they suspect of collaboration. Housewives around his Riverdale estate, he reports anonymously, dope themselves with tranquilizers while the E-Company of the IRA shoots at army patrols and runs into O'Doherty's garden, or a nearby safe house perhaps. He's roughed up by the troops and increasingly fears for his own safety, as he is torn between the British who suspect his allegiance and the IRA who often shoot first and ask no questions later of any they suspect of collaboration or even common decency towards those labelled the enemy.

Half the IRA men and women who'd die this telling year, he notes, were blown up by their own bombs. Often sent off to plant them without timers, they had to get them to their targets or become "own goals" themselves as they were detonated in their transport. It's difficult to measure the cynicism involved here. The tragic destruction from a bomb planted probably by IRA teenaged girls at the Abercorn restaurant of a party of women shopping for their weddings horrified many. Amputees survived. O'Doherty reveals how closely-knit he was with his "working-class" community, those whom the IRA claimed to be liberating. "I danced, drunk, at a party with one of those women 15 years later. She fell over but laughed." (112)

Laughter, unless gallows humor, may have been heard less often among those pressed by the IRA on one side, and the British and their Loyalist paramilitaries with murder squads colluding on the other. Victims could be found at random; left off a taxi on a certain street, dropped off by soldiers in the wrong neighborhood, walking away from a bus in a certain direction: this could mark one for torture and death. "There was no burden the campaign would not impose on the people who lived there." (123) As with his 1998 "The Trouble with Guns," which analyzed the failure of the republican "physical-force" strategy of the Provos, O'Doherty cooly casts a cold eye on all who claimed to free a people whom they bullied, whom some idealized as freedom fighters delighted in subjugating.

His narrative moves briskly. Those less familiar with republican and loyalist turf-battles and Irish history at this time may find themselves outpaced. O'Doherty writes for an Irish audience in the know, but for those sufficiently grounded in the standard studies and "I was there" tales, this should provide a very rare look into one who had to deploy or hide his local identification as he sought to extend his journalistic credentials to report on a very intimate form of combat and destruction.

In the end, he must flee Belfast; he takes the dole and moves to Britain. Readers curious about his life before his journalistic start and what followed in India under a Hindu guru and then back in the North working freelance for the BBC can find "I Was a Teenaged Catholic" (recently reviewed by me on Amazon and this blog).

Lofty justifications for IRA armed struggle fill many memoirs; O'Doherty's dissenting voice speaks for rarely heard West Belfast mindset. From one who could not follow his mates into thirty years of violence, no matter how noble the rhetoric. As a moderate on the paper, "Observer," opined after an infant was shredded by flying glass after a detonation: "Just think of the chat in some 'patriot's' home in 15 or 20 years hence. 'What did you do for the cause, Da?' -- 'I planted a bomb that blew a child into eternity'." (192) That's a boast no IRA first-person narrative that I've read dares to make; heady Fenian drams curdled into bitter dregs. The dram's a blend still peddled by certain defenders today.

(P.S. His forthcoming book's about his formidable father, Barney, a pub owner whose place was bombed by the IRA. This review posted to Amazon British & U.S. 9-20-09. I also reviewed on Amazon-- if British only-- and my blog his analysis "Empty Pulpits: Ireland's Retreat from Religion" that investigates another dismantled icon of Irish life.)

"Sinead's Hand": Marriage Equality in Ireland video

The Irish Campaign for Marriage Equality did what anti-Prop. 8 forces could not in my home state. They humanized gay marriage rights. In a 1:45 video clip. I've already seen it posted on one blog and Facebook today; it's over 60,000 hits on YouTube. "Sinead's Hand"

My initial confusion was that the title evokes the one woman in Ireland whose name stands for a fluid sexuality: Sinéad O'Connor. When I saw this video promoted, I figured she was blathering on about her bisexuality. Nothing against her. Still, the choice of this common Irish name does strike me ambiguously. Intentionally selected?

We hope to be returning next month up North to celebrate our two dear friends who married in the window of opportunity last autumn the month before Prop. 8--restricting again marriages to those Californians of the opposite sexes-- was narrowly but decisively passed. I could not attend then their hitching at the Justice of the Peace complete with a childcare booklet as I had to work, but I do look forward to my journey to their little cabin, now tastefully expanded in Mission Craft style that attests to its century-old status in the woods, as always. They are our sons' role models and our own too. Even if their dogs misbehave more than those at home. And even if at least one's still a Deadhead.

One grew up full of shame at his sexuality; although his Christianity differed from my childhood version, I share the memory of torment over my body and my lack of power to express what I longed to hold to complete myself. Today, we still face in our legal codes this atavistic fear of embraces, this perennial Iron Age-codified fear of pollution. Why do we keep demanding that the state meddle in what's been long the role of the clergy? In our secular age with most of us living in sin and not needing blood tests, this withholding of decent recognition of love and commitment curdles me.

Perhaps open marriage, as my spouse has written about as fittingly given her prison fixation and our domestic wedlock in forged bonds of matrimony as a "Life Sentence" will be the next frontier? We wonder if re-defining lifelong relationships as beyond the clasp of only one couple will signal another change in the near future, as maturity enables people confidently in love to extend bounds for intimacy rather than be confined by boundaries of property. How will families be changed by-- no longer ESL mistakes-- "his husband" and "my mothers"; spouses referring to "her wife" and "their lover"? The fact that my wife confesses knowing people in her close circle of friends who allow for such freedom makes me wonder about another bedroom closet whose doors may be slowly opening.

By such nudges, Irish and American mores evolve despite the cold grip of a clerisy whose passing raises both nostalgia and relief in me. We hear a lot more over there rather than even here among the chattering NPR-organic classes about "partners" in an Ireland that but two decades ago when we met was far more Catholic than it is today. Now, same-sex marriage nears acceptance there before it may here, when divorce was but made legal barely a decade back. In truth, as slavery, pillories, and child labor vanished, so may such denominational prejudice and ignorant churlishness. My son not yet fourteen posts a "joke" quiz yesterday on his Facebook that announces to all his favorite position: doggy style. I eschew comment.

Miscegnation now's but a stumper for spelling bees. I hear women can even drive in most countries now, or talk back to husbands without fear of being hit by a man's stick wider than a toothbrush twig. Which reminds me of an Irish-language term for penis, "slat fhearga" or "angry [or "virile" I admit more closely] stick." But I dangerously digress into telling word-associations as any analyst may aver; Freud sighed that Irish were the only race immune to brandishments of the talking cure.

Is maith liom ag cloisteáil mír leis scannánín seo as Gaeilge fós. Maith agaibh, fír agus mna na h-Éireann. Tá súil againn go mbeadh ag bualaidh amarách ansiúd. Measaim go mbeidh bua nua eile ina dhiadh sin anseo chomh maith.
(Literally in my bog-Gaelic: It pleases me to hear a bit of this little film in Irish too. Good for you all, men and women of Ireland. We have an expectation that there may be a victory in the future over there. I reckon that it'll be another new triumph soon here as well.)

Talk Irish: “Labhair Gaeilge”

Tá suíomh nua faoi ag labhairt Gaeilge ann. Mar sin é, go bhfuil “Labhair Gaeilge” seisean féin ann. Gheobhaidh tú ag fáil áiteannaí éagsúlaí ann. Tá clachtaí ag léamh leis laomcartaí, focal an lae, agus foclóir ansin, mar shampla.

Cruinníonn sé is maith freisin. Measaim go mbeadh ionad go luach. Feicfidh tú naisc go leor.

Éist leis Liam Ó Maonlaí ag muintir ortsa féin. Gáire leis Deis Mac an Easpaig ag mágadh faoi gaeilgoirí chomh muidsa! Ceap leis Fearghal Mac Uiginn ó “Gíota Beag” agus “Beag eile” triu an BBC-NI. Clois leis “Raidio Fáilte” i mBéal Feirste Thiar.

Is blog é fós. Is féidir leat scríobh post a sciar roinn leis duine eile. Tá scéim níos éasca a úsaid ansin.

Is maith liom an dearaigh seo anseo. Déanann sé ag cabhair foghlaimeoirí fásta chomh mise féin. Ar scor ar bith, b’fhéidir mac leinn níos óg go mbíonn cur cuairt ansiud go minic níos coitanta.

Is acmhainn é úr agus geal. Smaoinim go raibh “Labhair Gaeilge” go mbeidh ag fás níos mo go luath. Gan dabht, tíocfaidh mé ar ais anseo aríst.

D’inis mo chara orm faoi “Labhair Gaelige” inne. Bhí mé ag marcáidh an tionscail seo cheana féin. Fillfidh mé ar an cúil sin go rialta.

Bheul, ar teacht isteach liom arsean féin? Tabhair sracfhéachaint tusa feín air anois. Creidim go fail stór focal agus taisce fuaim ar ball beag.

Talk Irish: “Labhair Gaeilge.”

There’s a new site for speaking Irish. That is, there’s “Talk Irish” itself. You’ll find various places there. There’s lessons for reading with flashcards there, a word of the day, and a dictionary, for example.

It’s designed well too. I reckon that it may be a valuable location. You will see links galore.

Listen with Liam Ó Maonlaí teaching you yourself. Laugh with Des Bishop mocking about Gaeilgoirí like ourselves! Think with Fearghal Mac Uiginn from “A Wee Bit” and “Another Bit” through BBC-NI. Hear Radio Welcome” in West Belfast.

There’s a blog also. It’s simple to write a post to share with other people. It’s a very easy set-up to use there.

I’m pleased with this design here. It’s made for helping adult learners like myself. However, perhaps younger students may visit over there often more habitually.

It’s a resource fresh and bright. I think that “Talk Irish” may be growing more soon. Without a doubt, I will come back here again.

A friend told me about “Talk Irish” yesterday. I’ve marked this project already. I will return to that nook regularly.

Well, would you be agreeing with me on this? Give it a glance yourself now. I believe that you may find a storehouse of words and a treasure of sounds in but a short while.

Lexicelt: Gaeilge<>Breatnais Foclóir & Cleachtannaí

Fuair mé an suíomh seo. Go raibh maith ag Dr Adrian Price go Ollscóil Swansea ó Bhreatain Bheag. D'inis mé faoi an nasc seo. Is "Lexicelt" é. Is foclóir é ach go bhfuil níos mo freisin ann. Inseoidh tú beagán faoi inniu.

Tá foclóir Gaeilge<>Breatnais saor in aisce ar line. Breis is 3,000 focal le ranna cainte agus uaimreacha iolra. Tá tú ábalta a cliceáil go furasta idir canúint ó Uladh, Connacht, agus Mumhan as Gaeilge, agus idir An Thuaiscaint agus An Deisceart as Breatnaise ann.

D'fhoghlaim mé faoi an roinnt na frasaí seo ann. Rachaidh tú ionad cé beidh íomhanná agus ábharannaí éagsulái isteach. Mar sin é: Comhrá, Saoire, Caithimh Aimsire, Bia agus Síopadóireacht, An Aimsire agus Am, Teicneolaíocht, Mé féin, An Corp agus tSláinte, An Bhreatain Bheag, Ainmneacha, Amhráin, agus Gramadach ansuid. "Seo é leabhar frásaí Lexicelt áit ar féidir an Bhreatnais a fheiceáil, a chluinstin agus a chleachtadh, agus áit ar féidir ullmhú do thuras chun na Breataine Bige."

Faighim go déanta dearmad bídeach nuair go scríobh as Gaeilge faoi An Bhreatain Bheag. Mar shampla, léigh me go bhfuil an cás ghiníuneachta "Bheag" ina fóclóir mór agam go mbeidh "Bige" ag Lexicelt ann. Agus, rinne mé dearmad leis "Breatnais" go cosúlacht anseo. Measaim go raibh "Bhreatnais" ach chonaic mé "Breatnaise" freisin faoi an teárma sin. B'fhéidir, is docha ormsa féin...

Ar ndóigh, is acmhainn dhátheangach í go iomlán ann. Ní fheicfear abairt as Béarla ansin, ar chor ar bith. Rinne scólairí rogha úsáideach a tairg againn. Bainfaidh sult é asainn go coitianta ar fud an domhan Ceilteach-- agus ar an ghréasán fós!

Lexicelt: Irish-Welsh Dictionary & Lessons.

I found this site. Thanks to Dr. Adrian Price at Swansea University in Wales. He told me about this link. It's a dictionary there but there's also more. I will tell you a little bit about it today.

There's an Irish-Welsh dictionary free of charge on-line. There's more than 3,000 words from the spoken verse and plural numbers. You're able to click easily between dialects from Ulster, Connacht, and Munster in Irish, and between the North and the South from Welsh there.

I learned about this phrase section there. You'll find a location where there will be illustrations and various topics. That is: Conversation, Holidays, Hobbies, Food and Shopping, The Weather and Time, Technology, Myself, The Body and Health, Wales, Names, Songs, and Grammar over there. "This Lexicelt book of phrases is a place where it's possible to see the Welsh, and to hear and to practice, and a place where it's possible (to) prepare for a journey to Wales."

I see that I made a tiny mistake when writing in Irish about Wales. For instance, I have read that the genitive case in dictionaries of mine of "Beag" (=little as in "Little Britain"!) should be "Bige" on Lexicelt. And, I made a mistake with "Welsh" (as in the language) likewise here. I think that "Bhreatnais" may be but I have seen "Breatnaise" also about that term. Perhaps, probably from me myself...

Of course, it's a totally bilingual resource. One will not find any word in English there at all. Scholars made a useful alternative to offer to us. It will be enjoyed by us regularly all over the Celtic realm-- and on the web too!

AmeriCymru: Welsh-American Social Network & Language Learners' Group

An American Welsh Social Network - Rhwydwaith Cymdeithasol i Gymry America. "AmeriCymru.com and Americymru.ning.com are an online social network for Welsh people and people of Welsh descent and a place online to find Wales and all things Welsh." Neither Welsh nor as far as I know of descent, I still liked this contingent, so I joined their friendly fray.

Since I needed to seek out those in the know, I thought this'd be a sensible place for my diasporic speculation about a language studied by me in isolation. Not needing to speak it really, I'm intrigued by seeing it. I asked my quixotic or misguided question about ties between Gaeilge & Cymraeg. Perhaps (despite "Bo's" erudite pair of rejoinders), I may find another deluded seeker scrabbling out a few pan-Celtic traces, however dim or palimpsestic fifteen hundred years hence.

I found AmeriCymru when tapping in a search for reviews of the pricy, enigmatic, but flashy and hypermarketed (for lack of alternatives for such as Tagalog and Farsi?) Rosetta Stone software for Irish and Welsh. You cannot even get it used; the company determines you purchase the license, not the product! Contradicting the right we have as buyers of a product to dispose of it as we wish! Seems discouraging. Not that I can afford it, but I am curious, yellow.

There's spirited, if combative and diffused, discussions by real RS Irish users at forums on Daltaí na Gaeilge, as opposed to ubiquitous blurbs, but I had trouble uncovering any for RS Welsh. Then, I substituted "Cymraeg," as even the yellow RS software box has that label. I figured I'd get more serious cross-over potential. And, up popped somebody's comments. That listing led me to wander around the rest of AmeriCymru. The learners gather at: Grŵp Iaith Gymraeg (Welsh Language Group)

This AmeriCymru-hosted (its sequestered guests can be hard to track down on the main site) Grŵp links to: Learn Welsh Podcast. I referred to this on January 8th. Thanks to all on the Net, who as I ranted to my MBA-aspiring son today, eschew commercial gain as they enter the web to promote the joy of knowledge rather than the accumulation of profit by garishly "sponsored" blogs and busily hectoring, Flash-animated, ad-riddled URLs.

Ag Foghlaim leis podchraoltaí as Gaeilge (& Breatnaise bheag)

Fuair mé paimfléad ó Oideas Gael ar an post inniu. Ba mhaith liom ag filleadh ar ais Gleann Cholm Cille ansuid aríst ar feadh an seachtaine seo chugainn, ach níl airgead agamsa féin anois ag dul go Dún na nGall. Mar sin féin, is mian orm a tógáil líofacht agam.

Is iontach orm. An bhfaigheadh mé ábhar go saor ar an ghreasan a cloisteáil Gaeilge ar mo h-IPhod? Ní íarraionn mé a íoc chun chinn chuig cleachtannaí níos fusa. Iarraidh mir Breatnais go luath triu podchraoltaí as teangachaí Ceilteach freisin.

Deir Foras na Gaeilge:

An Líonra Sóisialta: Craoltar an clár laethúil seo ar 7 stáisiún raidio in Éirinn agus ar fud an domhain, mar phodchraoladh (podcast) ón suíomh AnLionra.Com. Is HOST [óstach!] Conn Ó Muineacháin é.

Sonraí Teagmhála: Seoladh: ar an raidio, ar an idirlíon, thart timpeall ort, i do phóca! An Líonra Sóisealta

P.S.: Labhairt sé as Gaeilge leis blas go hiontach aigesan féin ann!


Tá sé bun-focail agus frasai furasta níos mo anseo: "Noimead Aon Gaeilge". Tá deich cleachtaí ann. Má bhéifea foghlaimeoir níos liofa, go dté tú go agallaimh agus cainte as Gaeilge le Séamas Ó Nuachtain. Tá sé i gcónaí ina h-Inis Fada, Nua Eabhrac. Cumann Carad na Gaeilge.

D'inis tú ariamh faoi Gaeilge na Seachtaine. Is banóstach é Kay Uí Chinnéide. Tá tíosach go fial fosta. Is maith liom ag eisteacht le a scéaltaí faoi aicesan féin.

Go críochnúil, is maith liom is mo Gíota Beag le BBC-NI. Rug mé ormsa féin blás beagán ó Thuaidh triu ag cloisteáil leis Fearghal Mag Uiginn ariamh ag dul go Oideas Gael arú anuraidh. Molaim go cuireadh cuairt agatsa féin an suíomh seo ar an idirlíon go minic.

Ní raibh mé ábalta fáil podchraoltaí éagsúlaí a cabhar mac foghlama Breatnaise. Ceapaim go mbheifi{?} go cruthaigh chomh mac leinn níos fearr leis ábhar níos flúirseach ar fad i mball ó Bhreatain Bheag le hais Gaeilge in Éirinn! Níor fuair mé chuig ionad nua-fhoglameoir fásta ar an BBC-Wales leis podchraolta.

Mar shampla, tá "Catchphrase" (leagan 2000) leis "na Lloyds" go brea. Níl slí a casadh clár craobhailte as comhad na h-iPod ann. Tá podchraoltaí amháin go bhfuil ar an leibheal níos ard chun chinn ag foghlaim Breatnaise: Pigion. Go cinnte, measaim go mbeadh seo níos hoíriúnach orm: Foghlaim Breatnais Podcraolta.

An mbíonn spéis i teangacha in hachan duine go hionduil? Tá Gaelgoirí beagán anseo: Podchraoltaí as Gaeilge. Tá nascannaí Gaelach eile na hAlbanach agus Éire a leithead anseo: Foghlaim Gaeilge ar an Idirlíon. Feicfidh tú eolas faoi teangacha eile ar an idirlíon anseo: Podcasting for Foreign- Language Education.

Learning with podcasts in Irish (& a wee Welsh).

I got a pamphlet from Oideas Gael in the mail today. I would like to return to Glencolmcille over there again during the next summer, but there is not money for me now to be going to Donegal. All the same, there is a need for me to build my fluency.

I wonder. Would I find material free on the web to hear Irish on my iPod? I do not wish to pay regarding easier lessons. I would seek also a bit of Welsh soon through podcasts of Celtic languages.

Foras na Gaeilge says:

"The Social Network: This weekly program's broadcast on 7 radio stations in Ireland throughout the land, through podcast from the site AnLionra.com. Conn Ó Muineacháin's the host.

Communication Details: Sent: on the radio, on the internet, all around you, in your pocket!" "An Líonra Sóisealta"

P. S. He speaks Irish with a wonderful tone himself there!

There's more basic vocabulary and easy phrases here: href="http://coffeebreakspanish.typepad.com/oneminutelanguages/one_minute_irish/index.html">"One Minute Irish". Ten lessons are there. If you would be a more fluent learner, you may go to interviews and talk in Irish at the Philo-Celtic Society, by Séamas Ó Nuachtain. He is living on Long Island, New York.

I told you before about Irish of the Week. Kay Uí Chinnéide's the hostess. She's hospitable too! I like to listen to her stories about herself.

Ultimately, I like most "A Wee Bit" from BBC-NI. I myself caught a slight accent from the North through listening to Fearghal Mag Uiginn before going to Oideas Gael the year before last. I recommend that you pay a visit yourself to this site on the net often.

I was not able to find varied podcasts to help a learner of Welsh. I think, however, that one might be better served as a student with far more abundant material from Wales elsewhere as compared to Irish in Ireland. I did not find a location for a new adult learner on BBC-Wales with a podcast.

For instance, there's a fine "Catchphrase" (version 2000) with "The Lloyds." But, there's no way to turn that program broadcast into an iPod file. There are only podcasts that are at the level for a higher learning of Welsh: Pigion. Finally, I estimate this may be for me a more suitable start: Learn Welsh Podcast.

Is there usually an interest in languages in every person? Here's a few Irish people: Podcasts in Irish. There are other such Gaelic links from Scotland and Ireland here: Foghlaim Gaeilge ar an Idirlíon. You will see information about other languages on the Internet here: Podcasting for Foreign- Language Education

Griangraf/ Photo: Lynette Fay, banóstach Blais/ host(ess) of Blas: BBC Raidió Uladh/Radio Ulster.

Siuán Ní Mhaonaigh & Antain Mac Lochlainn's "Speaking Irish": Book Review

Having studied at Oideas Gael, in Donegal, one of the places featured here, I was excited to find, the year after my course, the arrival of this book- DVD pairing. Others (on Amazon US where this appeared 12/22/08) have explained its rationale. I'll delve into its structure and organization. A brief comparison with other products (see my Listmania "Learning Irish Gaelic" for more) may assist your decision whether or not it's for you.

Twenty units focus on themes; the hardcover (thankfully-- this is a big plus in learning materials too rarely found; the ability to prop a book open is often worth the expense rather than a flimsy paperback whose pages separate and whose binding breaks) workbook naturally gives transcriptions and directions. I would have liked subtitles as an option, too; the lack of this makes it harder to keep up with the rapid (if you're at my level) speech patterns. Still, this immersion forces you to accelerate into the kind of encounters that prepare you for real life outside the halting pace of the classroom.

The timed interviews-- beginning from ten seconds and ending the book at nearly two minutes-- are prepared for with phrases or vocabulary that may differ from "school" or Standard Irish taught. Some are dialectal; some are grammatical elaborations, some cultural or vocabulary enrichments. Simple fill-in exercises may precede segments. Each chapter has a few taped snippets. Translations and answers well kept to the back of the book are given.

The range is wider than the old "The four sheep are in the high mountain meadow eating oats when Mary walks towards them" types of sentences found in primers. Buddhism, ecology, GAA, Israel and India, Irish sign language, learners vs. natives in Gaeltachtaí, dance, emigration, working mothers, the usually ignored presence of Irish speakers in North America: all receive their minute or two in the text and on the screen.

Poet Cathal Ó Searcaigh, activists Liam Ó Cuinneagáin & Helen Ó Murchú, TD Trevor Sargent, local residents, and, encouragingly, even learners from abroad can be heard among nearly two dozen interviewees. The range of accents, slips into English, and variations on the schoolhouse form of Irish may throw some off, but these are essential in preparing learners to leave the textbooks behind and begin to chat in Irish on the streets, and in the pubs. Seeing the Irish landscape behind so many of the speakers adds to the welcome illusion that you are back in Ireland hearing the native tongue vibrant, idiosyncratic, and ordinarily spoken, as it's meant to be.

This bridge into the natural communities that form by natives and learners and students refreshing earlier lessons may be lengthened with Turas Teanga, an RTÉ CD-DVD-book set geared more towards those reviving their "school Irish." This is aimed, be cautioned, at those intermediate or advanced students. SI is more practical and less linguistically focused per se than Mícheál Ó Siadhail's "Learning Irish;" it's less basic than "Gaeilge agus Fáilte;" it's certainly far beyond the Pimsleur conversations, and probably more enjoyable than the "Teach Yourself Irish" CD-book pairs.

For eager beginners: seek out "Gaeilge agus Fáilte." For SI's pricier, somewhat less user-friendly counterpart: "Turas Teanga." For serious linguists wanting a particular dialect, Cois Fharraige in Connaught: "Learning Irish." SI also is far more advanced than the new "Colloquial Irish" CD-book set, which is basic Connemara Irish of around 800 words. Ultimately, SI may prove the help that many, after finishing an immersion course in or away from Ireland, may need to continue their study when they return to a home far from a Gaeltacht.

Henry Rollins in Northern Ireland: Media Review.

"Uncut" on IFC débuted last night, November 21, 2008, so I watched it. Alerted by a clip featuring Anthony McIntyre-- whose "Good Friday: The Death of Irish Republicanism" I reviewed a week ago here-- I found the show fair and intelligent. A bit compressed, inevitably into an hour, and perhaps more difficult to follow for those less informed about the North. Still, Rollins comes across as typically confident, probing, and humbled by the replacement of his well-honed cynicism with a more tolerant, humane understanding of the need for all of us to listen more than we talk. He does both, balancing his own "stand-up" social commentary (I wouldn't call it comedy) at the Empire Music Hall in Belfast with interviews from politicians, activists, and veterans of the struggle.

It's heartening to see that veteran of my city's punk scene, from Black Flag-- a band that played my college dorm's rec room (he and I were born thirteen days apart) after they were banned circa '79-80 from many of the local clubs-- bring his own activist stance to the masses. Rollins has also visited Israel, New Orleans, and South Africa for similar investigations of the intersection of radical ideas, government oppression, economic inequality, and cultural ferment. As punks grow up, few of them continue their intervention in ways that go beyond the usual reunion tour for "filthy lucre" or re-recording their songs for "Guitar Hero"! (Yes, I know that the Pistols were screwed over by Malcolm, etc.)

The IFC site lacks detailed coverage of the episode. So, in the interests of anyone curious, here's my scorecard. I took notes as it ran, and I could not record it, so I did not catch all the data I would have wished; times are approximate. A few clips can be seen at the IFC site, but not the entire episode. (It may be up on YouTube, however, in time.)

00:00-05:00: Overview of the background to the Troubles. It's intriguing that Rollins refers to the tension beginning circa 1969 over the "Nationalists or Republicans" to wish to "remain" independent rather than submit to continued British rule in cooperation with the "Unionists or Loyalists."

05:00-10:00: Stand-up about shopping in Tescos with brusque and invasive locals.

10:00-15:00: Eamonn McCann in Derry shows HR the Bogside site of Bloody Sunday.

15:00-20:00: Anthony McIntyre as a former IRA member and prisoner at Long Kesh tells HR about the parallels between the NI and Iraqi occupations. This comparison weaves in and out of this entire episode. He alone in the episode is subtitled, although my wife, with her film industry experience, tells me it may be as much due to the outside shots of them walking around the shoreline with poor miking-- presumably HR only was wired up well-- as AM's Norn Iron articulation!

20:00-25:00: Kevin Ned Murphy, "Republican farmer, South Armagh," gives an rundown on British army surveillance. He contrasts the "nonsense" of U.S. claims that the Iraqi surge has been succeeding with his insistence that any occupied people will naturally resist.

25:00-28:00: Frankie Brennan and another man (I didn't catch his name; he rarely speaks) from Belfast's beleaguered Short Strand Republican enclave describe their situation under harassment and assaults by the surrounding Loyalists.

28:00-36:00: Stand-up about HR's easy cynicism vs. his mature realization of adult responsibility. He tells a moving anecdote about a worker at Subway's own family crises while the man makes HR's sandwich and deals with minimum-wage circumstances.

36:00-41:00: McCann returns to take HR around Derry's "insipid" Peace Murals. "SF/RUC scum" & "Kill all SF/RUC members" graffiti juxtapose with stylized hands releasing doves. McCann vigorously argues how the peace process fails to bring people together post-GFA. Rather than a "recipe for long-term peace," it's a "cosmetic" bridge. There's a hunger to get over sectarian divisions, while poverty remains. Radicalism's muted as if a threat to the officially sanctioned peace process.

41:00-45:00: Willie Frazier, "Protestant activist," shares his perspective. "The past is not past for us," and his people cannot forget so easily. Four Land Rovers pass in the background as he's interviewed; this attests to the continuing British military presence even as he talks of the "peace." (I am not sure where this was filmed.)

45:00-47:00: More evidence of a lingering military is shown. Security cameras monitor, and the lack of sectarianism in the Republican campaign is asserted.

47:00-49:00: Dawn Purvis, head of the PUP (Progressive Unionist Party) tells HR how in NI you're "born with a mental map in your head" of where it's safe to go. She suggests the goal should be instead a striving for common human connections.

49:00-50:00: Peter Robinson relates the importance of conflict resolution by dialogue.

50:00-52:00: Mitchell McLaughlin of Sinn Féin explores the possibility for Iraqi self-determination and NI parallels with the U.S. playing an "honest broker" role.

52:00-53:00: Purvis on negotiation with all willing protagonists as essential.

53:00-58:00: Stand-up on freedom. American-bred selfishness rooted in jingoism vs. the natural impulse to defend one's nation against invasion: contradictions of U.S. stance by its interventionists vs. the American pride in standing up to the British! Importance of giving dignity and respect to others.

HR's humbled at the lessons of freedom he's witnessed in NI as in South Africa, and thanks his audience. He tells them now he learns why poets write their poems about Ireland. He also appreciates why they fight over their women, and why even in NI, blues records are made.

Photo: from IFC "Uncut" site; Eamonn McCann wears the red, of course, skullcap.

Ag lorg ar stór as Gaeilge.

Plé Ó Muiri faoi na áthas domhain 'meitfisiciúil' ag foghlaim Gaeilge. Aointaim leis scribhneoir seo. Léighim a lhéirmheas is fada de leabhar "Radharc Nua Gaeilge" bealach Gaelport.com inné.

Insionn sé faoi ábhar níos deacair áfach. Admhaíonn sé féin: "Tá foghlaimeoiraí go leor Ghaeilge-- agus cuirim mise féin-- a ní déanann, anois agus aríst-- níorbh aon ionadh leo faoi go mbeadh greim go daingean ag úsaid ar an teanga acusan." Deir Ó Muiri agaibh go bhfuil sé an foghlameoir freisin!

Chuir mé mo h-alt ar blog seo faoi an léirmheas areir. Smaoiním futhú inniu. Ní féidir a shéanadh nach ag obair leis Gaeilge go rabthar furasta nuair thar lear.

Cén fáth? Bhuel, ní fheicim comharthaí éagsulaí ag timpeall mé nuair ag tiomaint. Ní chloisim clárannaí dífrúilaí ar an raidió gach lá. Ní fhaighim scannán dátheangach ar an teilifís gach oiche. Tá an fhírinne faoi seirbhis as Gaeilge go deireanach ar an idirlíon. Tá mé ábalta breith orthu beagán díobh ann.

Mar sin féin, tá sé dúshlán mór. Tá iontas liom faoi mo luach saothair. B'fhéidir, bheadh imoibriú inchasta. Tagaim i réim athuair clainne. Is máthair breithe agam Gaelgeoir nuair bhí sí óg i nGaillimhe. Bhí sí imithe as a cuimhne nuair ag imirce a dhéanamh siad go dtí Beal Feirste.

D'fhoglaim mé i ndiadh ag foghlaim Gaeilge ar feadh fadó faoi mo clann atá go raibh grá ar an teanga beo acusan. Tá gaoltaí gairid agam leis gníonhréimeannái leis an bpolaitiocht nó méanáin acusan. Thosaigh siadsan féin as Gaeilge! Tuigim an cumhacht leis líne ghinealaigh go athaimsiú seo agamsa féin.

Searching for treasure in Irish.

Pól Ó Muiri discusses about the "metaphysical" joys of learning Irish. I agree with this writer. I read his very long review of a book, "A New View of the Irish Language," by way of Gaelport.com yesterday.

He also tells of material more difficult, however. He himself admits: "There are few learners of Irish - and I include myself - who do not, every once and while, wonder just how firm a grip they have on the language they use." Ó Muiri tells us that he is a learner also!

I put up my entry on this blog about the review last night. I've been thinking today about it all. It's difficult not to deny that working with Irish for somebody when abroad is easy.

Why? Well, I cannot see various signs around me when driving. I don't hear different programs on the radio every day. I do not find bilingual films on the television each night. It's the truth about service in Irish lately on the Internet. I'm able to catch a few of them there.

All the same, it's a big challenge. I wonder about my reward. Perhaps, it may be a reversible reaction. I revive a family custom. My birth-mother was a Gaelic-speaker when she was young in Galway. She forgot it when they moved to Belfast.

I learned after learning Irish for a long time about my family who had a love for the living language themselves. I have near relatives who had their careers in politics or media. They started themselves in Irish! I understand the power of this rediscovered family line.

Griangraf/Photo: "The Adult Learner" novel in Irish by Alan Desmond, for the same [audience]!/ "An Foghlaimeoir Fásta" úrscéal as Gaeilge le Alan Desmond acusan féin!

Pól Ó Muiri on Gaeilge's Future.

I excerpt freely from this excellent review by Ó Muiri from the Dublin Review of Books. There's much nuance; I could not cut as sharply as I'd intended. Those who may find this critique worthwhile, then, may forgive my lengthy borrowing. At least I formatted it and added italics for readability for my non-Irish-speaking audience! The URL is at the end of the entry for the complete version; mine's courtesy of gaelport.com for 3ú Samhain 2008.
Look West

A New View of the Irish Language, Caoilfhionn Nic Pháidín & Seán Ó Cearnaigh (eds), Cois Life, 271 pp, E20, ISBN: 978 -1901176827.

Sa bhliain 1800, bhí cónaí ar mhilliún duine laistiar de líne ó Dhoire go Corcaigh arbh í an Ghaeilge a ngnáth-theanga labhartha. Faoi 1891, áfach, ní raibh fágtha ach 700,000 cainteoir Gaeilge sa tír, a raibh cónaí ar a leath acu i gceantair arbh í an Ghaeilge gnáth-theanga chumarsáide an phobail (ceantair ar a dtabharfaí 'an Ghaeltacht' in am trátha). Léirigh Daonáireamh 1891 go raibh 14 faoin gcéad den phobal dátheangach, gur Béarla amháin a bhí ag 85 faoin gcéad agus nach raibh ach 1 faoin gcéad ina gcainteoirí aonteangacha Gaeilge.

[In 1800 a million people lived behind a line from Derry to Cork whose usual language of speech was Irish. By 1891, however, there were only 700,000 Irish speakers in the country, half of whom lived in areas where Irish was the community’s language of communication (areas that would in time be called 'the Gaeltacht'). The Census of 1891 showed that 14% of the population was bilingual, that 85% spoke only English and that only 1% were monoglot Irish speakers.]

John Walsh, from An teanga, an cultúr agus an fhorbairt: cás na Gaeilge agus cás na hÉireann (Coiscéim, Dublin, 2004).

Irish is not doing badly in the world at large if we take the 2006 census figure of 1.6 million. By this yardstick, Irish would count as one of the 347 languages accounting for 94 per cent of the world’s population. In the European context only Maltese (371,900) and Estonian (1.08 million) are smaller than Irish, but Europe is perhaps unique in having within its borders such a large concentration of world languages (5 in the top ten) but only about 3 per cent of the world’s languages. Only about 5 per cent of the world’s languages have at least one million native speakers.

Nevertheless, to think of Irish as belonging to the big league of world languages with at least a million speakers makes it sound rather safer than would a comparison based on figures assessing the size of actual Irish-speaking communities. If we take the 2006 Census figure of 53,471 (3.2 per cent of the population) as the number of persons over 3 who use Irish daily outside education, or the figure of 17,687 (27.5 per cent) of the Gaeltacht population over 3 years of age who use Irish daily outside education, then we should direct our gaze towards languages of similar size (c. 8,000 to 54,000) and status. By this reckoning Irish belongs in a mid-sized group comprising about 25 per cent of the world’s languages with 10,000 to 99,000 speakers.

Suzanne Romaine, 'Irish in a Global Context', from A New View of the Irish Language.

The figures are startling, and perhaps confusing too. If there were a million native speakers of Irish in 1800 and 1.6 million speakers of Irish (native and learners) in 2006, then the case of Irish is not so bad as some would make out. Irish is not a world language - few Irish speakers make that claim - but it is a language of the world and belonging to the same category as 25 per cent of other world languages is no mean thing. Further, perhaps 'compulsory' Irish was not as bad as system as was thought. The numbers of native speakers living in Ireland is tiny in comparison with the figure for 1800 but the numbers who have learnt the language is impressive. (That they don't all get the opportunity to speak the language on a daily basis is an issue that will be addressed later.)

Looking back is the Irish speaker's curse. There is always something to be commemorated or remembered. If it is not the Battle of Kinsale, it is the Flight of the Earls, or Louvain, or the Famine, or Douglas Hyde, or the Gaeltacht as it was twenty years ago. (It was better then.) Even the most optimistic Irish speaker looks back - and not necessarily in the wee small hours when the drink is in and the sense is out. Looking forward is, of course, not unknown. There are some very forward-looking language pioneers who have achieved much in recent times. However, on the whole, looking forward goes against the Gaeilgeoir grain; looking forward is like a summer fad ' soon forgotten ' and quickly replaced by the dark impulse of retrospective introspection.

It is no surprise that looking back continues to hold such a firm grip on the mind. One could argue that those who fail to learn the language lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them. Then again one could argue that the language sector has been holding the same internal conversation for the last thirty years or so. It is somewhat ironic that the publishers of this collection of essays, A New View of the Irish Language, should take their template from a book that was published in 1969, A View of the Irish Language, edited by Brian Ó Cuív. The editors of the current collection, Seán Ó Cearnaigh and Caoilfhionn Nic Pháidín, write that:

The future of Irish is uncertain. It requires us to look in many directions, at once, but never backwards or inwards. Raising the ghetto walls, in the Gaeltacht or elsewhere, is no solution. The new compass must include points both real and virtual, from geographical communities to cyber-based networks, from the Aran Islands classroom to the google-user of focal.ie inside the Arctic Circle. Looking 'west', however, must remain a source of inspiration and linguistic renewal for speakers of Irish looking in, while preserving and developing a living west is an urgent necessity for maintaining Irish-speaking communities in the heartland.

There is certainly truth in that statement. However, the reader is immediately struck by a paradox: there is an honest attempt to honour past work and yet, that act of honouring, is, contrary to the editors' desire, a look 'backwards'. Ireland has undoubtedly changed since 1969 - though those changes are not immediately noticeable in the editors' selection of essay. The essays concern themselves with Ireland, for which you can read the Republic. Ó Cuív's collection appeared at a time when Stormont still stood and when Northern Ireland was the alternative linguistic model for Irish on the island - a place where the language was effectively the preserve of the Catholic community and education sector and enjoyed no official status. The editors do mention, in passing, that: 'Looking north, the language must develop across the political spectrum, and this vitality sustained (sic) in future decades against the threat of waning enthusiasm.' There is absolutely nothing wrong with the sentiment expressed in that sentence. However, there is no attempt to put meat on those bones.

That the language faces huge problems is undoubtedly true and the editors’ assertion that the contributors 'tell the story as it is, a glass both half-empty and half-full' is an honest one. Nonetheless, the number of contributors has the unwanted result of making the story of Irish seem more complicated than it need be. Given too that the editors have aimed the publication at 'a broad public', fewer contributors writing more essays might have helped give the material a more sustained conversational tone. To my mind, there seem to be four main questions that a book like this should answer. First there is the philosophical one: why Irish? Why bother learning the language at all; what 'good' does it serve? Second there is the question of 'how' Irish? How does the language sector work? How is the language funded? Who gets the money? How do they spend it? Third there is the issue of the Gaeltacht. What is its role and its future? Finally, there is the question of 'why' and 'how' together. What results are there from the money spent on the desire to learn?

There is nothing very original about any of these questions and they are addressed on a regular basis in Irish language circles. Indeed, the 'Why Irish?' question was the title of a discussion document produced by the now defunct Bord na Gaeilge in 1989, Why Irish? Language and Identity in Ireland Today. The authors wrote:

More importantly, we would argue that it is far too premature to consign the Irish language to oblivion. The trends which have encouraged its marginalisation in recent years are not irreversible. Indeed, a number of movements already exist in Irish society which could, if they were pulled together, start to reverse these trends: the naíonra or pre-school movement, the all-Irish schools and the success of summer colleges; the growth of a commitment to Irish within some professional societies; developments in art, music, literature and dance; environmental and community movements which are integrating the language into their goals. The linguistic situation is there to be created, if we can convince ourselves that its creation is worthwhile.

Almost twenty years later, the 'linguistic situation' is still being created. The educational movements to which the authors referred are still there. Even better, there is a bilingual television service, TG4, an Official Languages Act, and Irish is an official and working language of the European Union. Despite that, the need to convince is as great as ever.

Many Gaeltacht areas are in decline, that is to say the numbers of Irish speakers using the language is dropping and the quality of the Irish they speak is evolving or fraying (depending on whether you look forward or back) into something other than it is now or was in recent times. There are hundreds of thousands of people in the State who know Irish but don't have the opportunity to speak it. That those people continue to mark their support for the language in the census, for example, is no small act of fidelity. Then again there are hundreds of thousands of people who despite their schooling in the State have nothing to do with the language and bear it ill will, if letters to the editor or newspaper opinion pieces are any accurate indication of the public mood. (And they are not always, it must be said.) Still, those who do rouse themselves to fury and disdain the language usually insist that it is of no relevance to them and write that they resent its very existence.

Yet the paradox for the Irish language is that this could be termed its Golden Age. Never have language organisations had so much money; never has the language enjoyed such legislative protection or indeed such powerful political patronage. It is only a matter of months since an Taoiseach and leader of Fianna Fáil, Brian Cowen, and the leader of Fine Gael, Enda Kenny, spoke politics ' actually spoke as opposed to reading a pre-prepared statement ' in Irish with each other in the Dáil. There are Irish language entrepreneurs, Internet magazines, old-fashioned printed news publications and magazines, so much prose and poetry that you could not shake a stick at it, there is a television station, a national radio station and a couple of local ones, a professional caste of journalists and university lecturers that would warm the cockles of Aodh Mac Aingil’s croí, there is a Gaeltacht development authority and a cross-Border body and cultural centres and then there’s the money. Did I mention the money? Bags and bags of money. It's not so much
béal bocht as big bucks.

Time then for a new appraisal of the Irish language. High time, and the fact that A New View of the Irish Language is in English but addresses the Irish-language issue is welcome. There is a certainly a domestic and international audience for this material and the broad range of topics touched on - poetry and prose, issues on legislation, scholarship, teaching and learning and the media, for example - offers a useful primer. For someone with no or little knowledge of the language, it would be a fine enough start. However, the difficulty with individual essays is that the tone is not the same throughout and what is offered ' individual experts with opinions ' does not necessarily end up giving an insightful overview of the subject. As one contributor notes, the essay form has its limitations. Perhaps it is inevitable that not every essay carries the reader’s attention. After all, the essay ' like the interview ' is essentially a conversation between writer and reader and if you meet twenty people in one go the chances are that you will not be riveted by everything they have to say.

Iarfhlaith Watson's essay, 'The Irish Language and Identity', is the closest thing in the book to a focus on the 'why' question. He writes:

The Irish language continues to be regarded as an important aspect of Irish national identity. To the majority of people in Ireland the Irish language is primarily of symbolic importance ' It seems that the majority of people in Ireland believe that promoting the Irish language is important to the country and to them personally, but a lower percentage believe that actually speaking Irish is important to being Irish. Overall, the majority of Irish people appear to regard the Irish language to be of symbolic importance for Irish national identity and a very large minority regard the actual speaking of Irish as important.

He goes on to argue that:

Efforts to revive the Irish language reflect wider ideological processes. Although there have been ideological shifts, and identity has changed (because it is always under construction), national identity has remained at the heart of justifications for reviving the Irish language. People learn Irish and support its promotion because of this sense of identity. Moreover, the Irish language is supported by the state to a degree to which other minority languages are not. In general the public supports (or at least tolerates) this level of commitment because of the perceived connection between the Irish language and Irishness. Identification with the nation, although not as 'hot' as it once was in Ireland, remains. The Irish language remains related to that identification.

Watson's suggestion that Irish is being 'revived' is problematic. The language has never been dead and the preferred term for many in the language sector is 'maintenance', a process of underpinning what already exists and encouraging new initiatives. Of course, it could be added that the reason the majority does not actually believe that speaking Irish is important is because they simply do not get the opportunity and that the state support which Watson mentions for Irish as a 'minority language' is actually support for what the Constitution terms 'the first official language'.

Perhaps the reason why Irish and national identity seem so hard to define is because there are, in essence, two views of the Irish language in competition. Douglas Hyde and Patrick Pearse had visions for the language that were, in some regard, complementary and in other ways totally different. Those opposing elements have never been entirely reconciled. For Hyde, the language project was an intellectual one which aimed to maintain a native and distinctive part of Irish culture against a world language. Pearse did not entirely disagree with that but his project was also a revolutionary one; he wanted to reinstate Irish as the language of a Republic. Not surprisingly, both views are accommodated in the history of the language’s development in Ireland (by which I mean the entire thirty-two counties).

One of the difficulties that the contemporary language movement has had in persuading people to use the language is that the middle class ' a vague term, I accept ' are for the most part not taken with either intellectual or revolutionary projects. Language organisations that pitch the language to this audience as part of Ireland’s valuable cultural heritage are on a hiding to nothing. They cannot convince enough of this bloated, self-satisfied class (who hardly know holiday French or Spanish) that the rich, metaphysical rewards of speaking Irish are worth the effort. The little Englander attitude towards languages ' that they are all redundant in the face of English spoken loudly ' 'Another coffee, per favor!' ' is all too common. There is little mileage to be gained from extolling the beauty of language as language when the ultimate badge of identity is the physical commodity ' the car, the second home, the designer clothes.

Similarly, political parties who attempt - and not always with any great conviction - to tick the language box in their electoral strategies are wary of waving the flag too much in case it frightens off certain voters. The idea of preserving Irish as a revolutionary undertaking is not one that goes down well with many affluent voters or indeed some affluent commentators. Only the Provos have tried to push language as revolution. They have been rebuffed in the Republic (and not just on language grounds obviously) and they have probably done more harm than good in Northern Ireland, where they have poisoned the ground water with their rhetoric - and also with the blood of many dead.

So 'why Irish?' remains the question that cannot be answered - or at least not answered to the satisfaction of enough people often enough. Then again, perhaps the language lobby has lost the run of itself in its attempts to justify Irish. Perhaps the failure to place ' and keep ' the Gaeltacht at the centre of national cultural is finally bearing its own poisonous fruit. Perhaps the easiest way of answering the 'why Irish?' question is to point to the Gaeltacht and its distinctive and unique culture - which amazingly still survives, fractured but functional.

The relationship between Gaeltacht and non-Gaeltacht areas has shifted. Slowly but surely the importance of the Gaeltacht has been downplayed - even by some Irish speakers. The Gaeltacht has become simply another component of the language sector. The Irish that people learn in, say, Belfast is seen to be as legitimate as the Irish of Gaoth Dobhair, so much so in fact that some would argue ' and I have heard it ' that there is no need to leave West Belfast to learn Irish. That disregard for the Gaeltacht is shocking; it is a stupidity that is hard to credit, but one that exists and one that is not so difficult to understand. It is language as symbol rather than language as medium, that is to say you learn enough Irish to navigate the political issues of the day but never learn enough to realise just how little you know. That, of course, is frightening. There are few learners of Irish - and I include myself - who do not, every once and while, wonder just how firm a grip they have on the language they use. Only the vain and the ignorant have the luxury of ignoring that question.

The language question has become so difficult because it has become so confused and it has become confused because there seem to be so many questions. Perhaps 'why Irish?' can be best and most comprehensively answered with the simple answer 'Because there is a Gaeltacht.' Why provide services in Irish? Because there is a Gaeltacht. Why educate through Irish? Because there is a Gaeltacht. Why write in Irish? Because there is a Gaeltacht. (This is not to say that the Irish speaker who lives in the east or midlands of Ireland is less an Irish speaker than the one raised in the Gaeltacht.) But beside the Gaeltacht all else is secondary - not worthless, mind, not without merit, not unimportant - simply secondary. It is the Gaeltacht, above all else, that gives the language its authority as a national undertaking and the destruction of that Gaeltacht will herald the final and ultimate destruction of that authority. (Should the reviewer draw any conclusion from the fact that the essay on the Gaeltacht is ninth in this collection? It seems strange that a book aimed at the general public would have this topic so far back. After all, many people’s experience of real spoken Irish ' perhaps their only one ' is a youthful stay at a Gaeltacht summer college.)

As already noted, Ó Cearnaigh and Nic Pháidín have written that the Gaeltacht remains an 'inspiration' and that 'preserving and developing a living west is an urgent necessity for maintaining Irish-speaking communities in the heartland'. But if that inspiration is the only option what happens if the Gaeltacht dies? Seosamh Mac Donncha and Conchúr Ó Giollagáin write in 'The Gaeltacht Today' that:

Recent research serves to highlight what is readily evident to Gaeltacht inhabitants: the Gaeltacht as a linguistic entity is in crisis and struggling with the pressures of an advanced stage of language shift. The approach date has served to implicate our communal and educational institutions in this process of language shift rather providing proactive support to resist the pressures of this sociolinguistic endgame. As the use of English becomes more embedded in the social networks of the young, the clear challenge of educational and communal institutions in the Gaeltacht is to empower young speakers of Irish to counteract the pressures of the majority language in a manner that fosters the socialization of Irish in the social networks of the young living in the Gaeltacht. The obvious outcome of an inadequate response to this stark challenge is the completion of the language shift from Irish to English in the remaining Gaeltacht districts where the use of Irish still predominates as the communal language.

That question of language shift from Irish to English would seem to be the most important one at the moment. It could be argued that as the language sector has developed it has become so complicated that it has forgotten its own Gaeltacht roots. This is not an argument to abandon all Irish-language activity in non-Gaeltacht areas. That would simply be silly. Not every Irish speaker (this writer included) wants to live in the Gaeltacht. There has to be a balance in catering for Irish speakers outside the Gaeltacht and native speakers within it. But it would seem to me that the balance has shifted too much, with many regarding the Gaeltacht as just another part of the equation. If we argue, however, that it is the Gaeltacht that gives the entire language movement its moral right to promote the language on a national scale then if that Gaeltacht disappears, are not Irish speakers - despite their funding, their numbers and their legal protections - little more than the enthusiasts for Manx or Cornish, people who seek to revive a language that has no native speakers?

One wonders indeed if non-native speakers of Irish appreciate often enough just what a wonderful phenomenon the native speaker is? Is there a sufficient understanding that even the most parlous, holed, fractured breac-Ghaeltacht contains more native Irish than a dozen night classes for learners. This is not to deride the learners and it is not to talk up areas many of which may be fatally wounded. It is a simple expression of wonder that so many areas have managed to keep the linguistic faith, that despite emigration, unemployment, holiday homes and an indifferent officialdom there are still people who have clung to the language and who, given the right encouragement and support, might yet pass it on to another generation. Should it not be a matter of national pride that they have held on to so much despite the challenges they faced. Let me put it another way: were these people, say, cheese-makers rather than Irish speakers, would we not enthuse about their fidelity to old ways and marvel at the knowledge they had kept alive in spite of dungeon, famine and sword?

The reasons for the marginalisation of the Gaeltacht in the story of Irish vary from place to place. In the North, they often have their roots in politics, where many urban Irish speakers simply do not feel the need to go the Gaeltacht. There can be an aggressive chauvinism within cities towards the country at the best of times. It is not surprising that that might also find expression in language circles and that chauvinism can also be exaggerated by local politics. Tight-knit city communities can offer the fluent Irish speaker a small pond in which to swim. That the Irish they speak and the topics they address in that Irish will not necessarily chime with the syntax and subject of Gaeltacht Irish does not bother them: city Irish is as good as country Irish, they argue, though in fact, the city dialect is often a poorer version of the country one, with all the implications that has for the quality of speech.

[Discussion of the Údarás na Gaeltachta, Foras na Gaeilge, post-GFA party shuffling in the North, difficulties of a national organization for a disparate localized identity throughout much of the island, and the uneasiness in academia regarding lecturing "as Gaeilge" follow.]

That is one reason why a concluding chapter would have been welcome. Another would be to provide a manifesto for the weary reader. With the best will in the world, reading twenty essays will leave even the most committed general reader tired. That there is much of interest in many of the essays is a given. However, there is no headline, no one moment to focus the reader and say: 'Look, this is what we believe. This is our clarion call.' The book would have benefited from a reflection on what its contributors have said, not as a corrective to them but simply to bring their various thoughts and arguments together and to offer the reader a coherent overview.

With that in mind, I will leave the last word and the focal scoir to Suzanne Romaine, whose contribution introduced this review:

While it is critically important to confront openly and realistically the actual extent of the Irish-speaking communities at the beginning of the twenty-first century, Irish would certainly be a lot worse off without all the work on its behalf. Most threatened languages will not achieve anything like the relative success of Irish. A sign that once hung in Albert Einstein's office declared that 'not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted'. The active Irish-language scene probably comprises only 5 to 10 per cent of the island's population, and around one in three people (c 1.8 million) on the island can understand Irish to some extent. This means that the world in Irish will not be lost and the world can indeed still be lived in Irish by those who choose to learn it and use it. That is hardly failure.

Dublin Review of Books - Pól Ó Muiri review

Photo: Zazzle.com. They also sell "Sarah Palin in 2012," but their Election Day Special expires tomorrow, for some reason.