Walter Macken paints a memorable portrait of the hard life of subsistence farming, of loveless arranged marriages, and of rebellion against suffocating social mores.

    Stella Rodney is one of those who chose to stay. But for her, the sense of impending catastrophe becomes acutely personal when she discovers that her lover, Robert, is suspected of selling secrets to the enemy, and that the man who is following him wants Stella herself as the price of his silence. Caught between these two men, not sure whom to believe, Stella finds her world crumbling as she learns how little we can truly know of those around us.

    In Dublin, her best friend, Eileen, is getting over a break-up and slips back into flirting with Simon, a man she has known since childhood. Alice, Felix, Eileen, and Simon are still young—but life is catching up with them. They desire each other, they delude each other, they get together, they break apart. They have sex, they worry about sex, they worry about their friendships and the world they live in. Are they standing in the last lighted room before the darkness, bearing witness to something? Will they find a way to believe in a beautiful world?

    This is a glorious book that bears all the marks of a classic."When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I managed to survive at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood." So begins the Pulitzer Prize winning memoir of Frank McCourt, born in Depression-era Brooklyn to recent Irish immigrants and raised in the slums of Limerick, Ireland. Frank's mother, Angela, has no money to feed the children since Frank's father, Malachy, rarely works, and when he does he drinks his wages. Yet Malachy—exasperating, irresponsible and beguiling—does nurture in Frank an appetite for the one thing he can provide: a story. Frank lives for his father's tales of Cuchulain, who saved Ireland, and of the Angel on the Seventh Step, who brings his mother babies. Perhaps it is story that accounts for Frank's survival. Wearing rags for diapers, begging a pig's head for Christmas dinner and gathering coal from the roadside to light a fire, Frank endures poverty, near-starvation and the casual cruelty of relatives and neighbors—yet lives to tell his tale with eloquence, exuberance and remarkable forgiveness. Angela's Ashes, imbued on every page with Frank McCourt's astounding humor and compassion, is a glorious book that bears all the marks of a classic.

    Oscar Wilde, writing about his relationship with his father, William Wilde, stated: “Whenever there is hatred between two people there is bond or brotherhood of some kind…you loathed each other not because you were so different but because you were so alike.” W.B. Yeats wrote of his father, John Butler Yeats, a painter: “It is this infirmity of will which has prevented him from finishing his pictures. The qualities I think necessary to success in art or life seemed to him egotism.” John Stanislaus Joyce, James’s father, was perhaps the most quintessentially Irish, widely loved, garrulous, a singer, and drinker with a volatile temper, who drove his son from Ireland. Elegant, profound, and riveting, Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know illuminates not only the complex relationships between three of the greatest writers in the English language and their fathers, but also illustrates the surprising ways these men surface in their work. Through these stories of fathers and sons, Tóibín recounts the resistance to English cultural domination, the birth of modern Irish cultural identity, and the extraordinary contributions of these complex and masterful authors.

    

    As it chronicles the activities of members of Sinn F�in, the Irish Republican Brotherhood, Cumann na mBan, and the Irish Volunteers, this compelling volume addresses a range of key questions that continue to divide historians of modern Ireland: What led people from ordinary backgrounds to fight for Irish freedom? What did they think they could achieve given the superior forces arrayed against them? What kind of republic were they willing to kill and die for? Fearghal McGarry deftly interweaves the oral history of the rank-and-file revolutionaries of the Rising into a comprehensive, yet powerfully affecting narrative--one that The Boston Globe called "vivid and compelling" and "a poignant mosaic of idealism, bravery, and humanity."

    Journalist Marie Heaney skillfully revives the glory of ancient Irish storytelling in this comprehensive volume from the great pre-Christian sequences to the more recent tales of the three patron saints Patrick, Brigid, and Colmcille.

    Set in Paris and Ireland, this is a moving story about a woman in her forties, dealing with her sexuality, a damaged daughter and a fear of returning to her roots.

    With SAINT JOAN (1923) Shaw reached the height of his fame and Joan is one of his finest creations; forceful, vital, and rebelling against the values that surround her. The play distils Shaw's views on the subjects of politics, religion and creative evolution.

    James Carroll is the author of five novels and two acclaimed works of nonfiction, including the National Book Award-winning An American Requiem.

    Hold tight as the ordinary turns extraordinary in Mark O’Rowe’s exhilarating new play. A blackly comic vision of Dublin infested with demons, from the author of Howie the Rookie.

    It exposes the reality of the dark, claustrophobic world of the Provisionals: the iron grip they hold over their communities; their ruthless and cynical disregard for human life; the single-minded professionalism of some IRA volunteers — and the rank incompetence of others. Raymond Gilmour learned the brutal facts of life in Northern Ireland at an early age. Beatings, murders and knee-cappings were common currency on the dead-end Derry estate where he grew up, and despite the omnipresence of British. soldiers no one was in any doubt about who really held the balance of power. Many young Catholics, with few options and fewer jobs open to them, joined the terrorists as volunteers. So, at the age of sixteen, did Ray Gilmour — but his recruitment had a vital and deadly difference: his brief to infiltrate the IRA, sabotage their activities, and report back to his Special Branch contact. So began nearly a decade of life in no-man's-land, an impossibly dangerous double life where every day brought with it a new and potentially terminal threat. Gilmour relates in gripping style the hazards of playing along with the shootings and bombings while secretly trying to subvert them; the constant fear of exposure, torture and execution by his IRA `comrades' — and the tension of wondering when he might out-live his usefulness and be sacrificed by the shadowy men from MI5. Incredibly, Gilmour not only avoided exposure and sacrifice, he also became one of the RUC's most valued agents, foiling countless terrorist attacks and helping the police seize huge quantities of arms and explosives. As one RUC source admitted: 'He kept Derry clean for us.' Gilmour's career as an agent came to an abrupt and spectacular end when he uncovered one of the IRAs most prized arms caches, forcing him and his family — who until then had known nothing of his double life. — to go on the run before the IRA's notorious Internal Affairs men caught up with them. But even escape has its penalties: Gilmour has not seen his wife and children for over twelve years, and he now lives in permanent exile, flitting from safe house to safe house under a sentence of death unrevoked by peace-tAs amnesties. Dead Ground is Gilmour's story: a narrative of heart-stopping tension and unrelenting human drama which makes a mockery of fictionalised accounts of terrorism in Northern Ireland.

    These poems are written with the authority of classical myth, yet sound utterly contemporary: the poet's gaze - whether on the natural world or the details of his own life - is unflinching and clear, its utter seriousness leavened by a wry, dry and disarming humour. Alongside fine translations from Neruda and Montale and dynamic (and at times horrific) retellings of stories from Ovid, the poems in "The Wrecking Light" pitch the power and wonder of nature against the frailty and failure of the human. Ghosts sift through these poems - certainties become volatile, the simplest situations thicken with strangeness and threat - all of them haunted by the pressure and presence of the primitive world against our own, and the kind of dream-like intensity of description that has become Robertson's trademark. This is a book of considerable grandeur and sweep which confirms Robertson as one of the most arresting and powerful poets at work today.

    It was the first of fifteen dismembered body parts belonging to retired hospital worker Patricia O'Connor.Kieran Greene, the father of three of Patricia's grandchildren, later handed himself in, confessing to beating her to death in the home they shared in what he said was an act of self-defense. He also confessed to dismembering her and disposing of her remains but later changed his story, implicating several members of Patricia's household, including her husband and daughter.In this nuanced and meticulous account of a deeply disturbing crime, journalist Frank Greaney, who covered every day of the shocking trial and conducted exclusive follow-up interviews with other members of Patricia's family, uncovers the story behind the gruesome murder of Patricia O'Connor, and looks at who Patricia really was.