St. Patrick's literate parade (for Kindy)

Like every year I missed St. Patrick's day. And like every year I am very disappointed about that.

One of the best holidays I ever had was a two month journey through Ireland. Dublin-Donegal-Galway-Aran Islands-Cork-Dublin again. And the best part of the holiday was the Aran Islands, offshore Galway, especially the smallest one, Inisheer (now that I live on a small sland myself this probably was where it all started...).
I think I never managed to stay sober one single day during that journey, even if I planned it, which is very Irish and probably worth 60 St. Patricks day's. At least 20. Anyway, I am dissapointed.

Talking about the actual Irish Crisis makes me think if this country ever was out of crises? Probably a stereotype paradigm: Irish literature and storytelling derives from the continuos crisis - and from the power to transform critical events into art. I posted my vision of Samuel Beckett recently, a perfect example of this Irish way to perceive. And an emigrant for what it's worth.

Sean O'Casey. Drawing: Pencil, ink, 29,7 x 42cm

Without doubt Sean O'Casey 1880-1964) is one of the most important Irish freedom fighters in dramatic literature. Beside Beckett one of most important 20. century playwrighters and a remarkable face as well.

Details [click to enlarge]

 

A profound analysis of the ongoing financial crisis (and comfort to all accounting departments) gives George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), like Beckett Nobel Prize awarded: My father must have had some elementary education, for he could read and write and keep accounts inaccurately.

George Bernhard Shaw. Drawing: Pencil, ink, 29,7 x 42cm.

The guru of aphorism was once asked by a manufacturer of electric razors to endorse their new product - by shaving off his trademark beard. Shaw explained that, like his father before him, he had grown a beard for a very good reason:

"I was about five at the time," Shaw recalled, "and I was standing at my father's knee whilst he was shaving. I said to him, 'Daddy, why do you shave?' He looked at me in silence, for a full minute, before throwing the razor out of the window, saying, 'Why the hell do I?' He never did again." 


 

James Joyce. Drawing: Pencil, ink, 29,7 x 42cm

While O'Casey and Shaw are part of the Irish Renaissance between tradition and social reality, James Joyce and Samuel Beckett took over as a new generation of Irish authors, soon forming the international literary avantgarde.

Once or twice Joyce dictated a bit of Finnegans Wake to Beckett, though dictation did not work very well for him; in the middle of one such session there was a knock at the door which Beckett didn't hear. Joyce said, 'Come in,' and Beckett wrote it down. Afterwards he read back what he had written and Joyce said, 'What's that "Come in"?' 'Yes, you said that,' said Beckett. Joyce thought for a moment, then said 'Let it stand.'

By the way: more anecdotes on anecdotage.com.  

I will try again next St. Patrick's Day - perhaps I'll get an invitation? I bring my Irish records then, my harp and the leprechaun sitting on my shoulder. Sláinte!