Despite the increasing computerisation of local records, such as census returns, parish registers, tithe allotment and land valuation lists, there is still a valuable role for published local history - and apparently still a demand, albeit local, for such archival material. The written word, preferably accompanied by adequate footnotes and suitable illustrations, holds a greater attraction than the lifeless lists on computer screens and endless printouts - although they also have their uses.
But a well turned-out local history has a special place on people's shelves, its accessibility and familiarity being its chief attractions. Note that I have specified the well turned-out local history - with the already mentioned footnotes and illustrations to enhance its future value. There are, however, far too many badly turned-out local histories being produced, usually by amateurs and showing their inadequacies in so many ways. One does not wish to detract from such commendable endeavour - but, oh for a few professional editors/advisers!
I have no such criticisms of Glimpses of Tuam since the Famine, by John A. Claffey (Old Tuam Society, no price given), an excellent chronicle of events and personages in Tuam from the time of the Famine to the recent past. Dr Claffey himself is an erudite contributor and there are enlightening articles on famed Tuam personalities such as Dick Dowling (1838-1867), hero of the Texan civil war, by P.D. O'Donnell; Martin Andrew O'Brennan, who although born in Ballyhaunis in 1810 achieved a form of notoriety as the founder of the Connaught Patriot, which had the distinction of being attacked simultaneously by the Vatican and the London Times; and some disconcerting facts about the decline of the Irish language in Tuam in the 20th century and the part played therein by the Archbishop of Tuam, Dr Healy. This is a fine publication, to be purchased and prized by all interested in recent Tuam history.
I regret that I cannot praise quite as enthusiastically A Sense of Place" - Leix (sic) Anthology of Literature 1997, edited by Patrick Galvin (Laois County Council, £3).
This is a strange mix of historical material, fiction and verse, and although some of the contemporary writers show talent, the whole is badly edited. There are no page numbers, no notes on the authors and no source data apart from titles of newspapers and books. The author of Follow me up to Carlow (what's the Laois connection?) is given as "Anon" - surely the editor could have found that it was composed by P.J. McCall, whose Green Woods of Slew is on the preceding page. And is Leix or Laois the name of the county? I got little sense of place from this uneven collection.
Finally to The Wild Rover, by Tomas O Cinneide, translated by Padraig Tyers (Mercier Press, £7.99). The translator explains that the original Irish language version of this book was spoken on tape, unrehearsed, by the Dingle man O Cinneide. It was first published as Ar Seachran and was a best-seller. I have not read the original and came to this translation with some trepidation. I need not have worried - here is an eloquent re-telling of O Cinneide's unusual life as a clerical student, army officer, teacher, postman, fisherman, emigrant (to the US), factory-worker and habitue of Skid Row.
As a translation from what was undoubtedly mellifluous Irish, this book catches the mood and magic of a fascinating life that ended only in 1992.
Richard Roche is a writer and historian