As signposts to the past, townlands are a vital component of local knowledge, holding a fascination for historians, researchers and general readers. A significant book, the Townland Atlas of Ulster (Ulster Historical Foundation, £64.99) by Andrew Kane, features all nine counties, mapping more than 6,000 townlands along with the administrative units of church and state into which they have been organised.
Laid out in an easy-to-read style, the hefty atlas contains colour maps of the baronies used as the primary unit for mapping, providing context to the townland boundaries and location. Listings cover the distinct types of parishes, as well as detailed notes on estates and manors. A 250-page index stretches from Abbernadoorny in Co Donegal to Yewer Glebe in Co Cavan.
A serendipitous journey of discovery, the atlas opens up the world of 17th-century records, representing a snapshot in time of relevance to the last 400 years, and the chequered history of Ulster. Rich in variety and beauty, townland names are markers of tradition and belonging, often reflecting historical events or landscape features as well as people, animals and plants. They resonate with the popular imagination, and the atlas is a record of a shared heritage and culture.
As the author points out, in terms of their size, not all townlands are born equal. For example, Tullyvallen, in Co Armagh, is 1,656 acres, while neighbouring Carrickacullion is a mere 90 acres. The book also comes with an all-important magnifier to help read the small print names.
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On a more compact but no less erudite scale, West Mayo Placenames, Origin and Meaning (Covie Publications and Recordings, €20) by John O’Callaghan, examines townlands in the three baronies of Murrisk, Burrishoole and Erris. The meanings of placenames through the generations are weaved in, with topographical features of mountains, lakes and rivers, alongside flora and birdlife.
Drawing on the work of writers such Patrick Weston Joyce, Thomas Johnson Westropp and Tim Robinson, the author suggests specific routes – which he has walked – to explore the townlands at first hand. Many locations are strategically positioned beside picnic tables, cafes or pubs offering views of the Atlantic. Ordnance Survey name books, Griffith’s Valuation maps and Dinneen’s Irish-English Dictionary are all consulted in the quest for accuracy.
Some placenames are contentious, or have unknown origins, and the author states that several Mayo townland names are as obscure as fairy tales. In fact, Cnoc Shiofra, from the Sheeffry Hills, means “fairies” or “place of fairies”. Whatever their pedigree, they remain celebrated for their musicality and include Derreenawinshin, Sruhaunaskeheen and Tangincartoor. But the award for the longest rests with the 22-lettered Cooneenskirragohiffern, “the little creek of slip to hell”, possibly the lengthiest in Ireland.
In 2012, John O’Callaghan won a competition run by this newspaper for his description of Westport as the best place to live in Ireland, and this eminently dip-in-able book reflects his continued love of the area.
Logainmneacha na Machairí: The Traditional Place Names of Maharees (€15), by Martin Lynch and Eoghan Ó Loingsigh, considers placenames in the northern part of the Dingle peninsula. The Maharees is referred to by geographers as a tombolo, a narrow piece of land such as a spit or bar attached to the mainland.
The area, incorporating neighbouring islands, boasts more than 250 names covering fields, rocks, inlets, bóthairíns, landing places, humps and hollows. Along with important sites, they were recorded by John O’Donovan, who visited the Maharees in August 1841 as part of his work with the Ordnance Survey, while others have been handed down through the decades. Expressive names include Toppy Stone, The Thirty Ropes, Scraw Ditch, The Jib, Lonesome Hole and The Klondykes, which are fields with high yields similar to the goldfields of the Klondyke in Alaska.
Forensic detail has been applied to another part of the county lying south of the River Maine. In Mapping South Kerry: 450 years of a changing landscape (Wordwell, €50), Arnold Horner illuminates a region stretching from the hinterlands of Killarney and Kenmare, the Reeks, the Iveragh peninsula and the part of the county which runs along the southern shore of the Kenmare River. It is an area with a distinctive personality that was once the heart of an Irish lordship.
Divided into 14 chapters, the book presents maps from the Down Survey, the Ordnance Survey of Ireland, Taylor and Skinner’s strip-sections of the roads of Ireland, and numerous others offering perspectives on a range of topics. Lovers of cartography will lose themselves in the 464 pages, finding exquisitely detailed maps that document the condition and ownership of hills, valleys and bays.
The book is both a historical appraisal and a guide, combined with the breadth of the author’s knowledge. He appears to have tracked down every conceivable map ever produced on Kerry from the 16th century, and his study encompasses sailing charts and hydrographic surveys up to 21st-century digital images on screens. The volume is also a tribute to the high quality of the publisher’s design, with decorative endpapers delineating the geography of south Kerry’s landscape features, which include the highest mountains in Ireland. Endless hours of poring over maps are in store for readers, along with numerous asides on observations of the countryside, working out how the past has shaped the present in physically diverse scenery that is central to tourism.
In Town & Country: Perspectives from the Irish Historic Towns Atlas (Royal Irish Academy, €30), Sarah Gearty and Michael Potterton (eds) unravel interconnectedness and the complex entanglement of the urban streetscape and rural landscape, from monastic times to the 19th century. The book is carved up into four sections, with the main body made up of four chapters examining Ireland at various periods, including the Viking era, later Middle Ages, the early modern, and the 19th century. Sometimes treated as distinct entities, town and country have long been inextricably linked. Potterton underlines the significance of combining both archaeological and historical methods in the enduring study of their intimate relationships.
Two sections also reflect the life and publications of John Andrews (1927-2019), a scholar and innovative historical cartographer who joined the geography department at Trinity College Dublin, in 1954, retiring as associate professor in 1990. His seminal essay on the topographical development of the town of Kildare, from the first publication of the Irish atlas series in 1986, alongside essays on his life’s work, are reproduced. The final part lists a comprehensive bibliography of Andrews’s extensive writings. His output stretched over 70 years – from his first published paper in Geography magazine about the development of the passenger ports of southeast England, to his last scholarly article on Irish plantation surveys in The History of Cartography, published in 2020 by Chicago University Press.
