Living in North Wales these days, I get back to Dublin only every few months and it has seemed recently that each trip has coincided with the news of yet another disappearance of a great Dublin institution, writes Nessa O'Mahony.
When I was home last October, everyone was talking about the impending closure of Bewleys' cafés and the huge rip that would leave in the fabric of Dublin society. More than one commentator said it was like locking the door of the city's favourite front room, another reminder that the rare ould times were dead as doornails.
Then this Easter, a time of death and renewal, I was faced with yet another departure: that of the Winding Stair bookshop and café on Ormond Quay, the spiritual home to hundreds of Dublin writers and artists over the years. The news wasn't widely known when I dropped in on Easter Tuesday, expecting to browse the latest releases and enjoy a nice cup of coffee in the café upstairs. However, I was told by the sad-faced man behind the desk that there wasn't any new stock as the shop was about to close its doors.
When the news eventually broke in The Irish Times, I was surprised to read that the founder, Kevin Connolly, had opened the shop a mere 23 years ago. Somehow it had the feel of a place that had been there forever, its four storeys dominating the Liffey skyline, its bright lights flickering on the murky water as dusk fell and traffic filed home on either side of the river's stone walls.
The shop grew from small beginnings. One poet recalls visiting it in the early 1980s, finding himself in just one room at the heart of a vast, empty warehouse, with classical music playing in the background and a cup of coffee available while he browsed. Over the years, the stock increased to fill practically all the rooms in that tall, imposing building, and at its heart now was the café where people could pause, take a break from their browsing, look out at the traffic, catch up with all the gossip and, in the evenings, hear some of the world's greatest poets, as well as the up-and-coming ones, in performance.
The Art Deco lettering on the shopfront was straight out of a Cuala Press publication, copies of which were sure to be found in the rare books section, alongside the principal works of the Yeats sisters' more famous brother, William B. His collection of poems, The Winding Stair, gave the bookshop its name.
Throughout its history, the Winding Stair stocked rare, antiquarian books together with the latest works of contemporary poets and remained determined to support newcomers to the literary scene. On one of my many visits I came across an entire set of Gibbons's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, which I promptly bought for a bemused but appreciative friend. But Declan Meade, editor of the literary magazine The Stinging Fly, recalls that the shop was also one of the first to welcome his new magazine and to display it prominently, demonstrating the owner's belief that contemporary writers and writing were important to Dublin.
I gave one of my first poetry readings there in the mid 1990s when I was asked by Poetry Ireland to participate in its Introductions series. I shared the floor with David Wheatley and Yvonne Cullen and conquered my stage fright with a glass of wine, cheerfully dispensed by Kevin Connolly from behind the counter of the café. I was immensely impressed that they had printed a poster with my name on it. There was even a place behind the toilets where I could leave my coat and bag.
I had arrived.
The Winding Stair readings always attracted large and warm audiences. We all knew we were guaranteed something special. One of my most vivid memories is of hearing the Scottish poet Douglas Dunn, who moved the audience to tears with elegies to his late wife. His words reminded us of the profound power that poetry exerts and made many of us determined to redouble our efforts to write something a fraction as good.
Others among the hundreds who performed at the store over the years included US poet laureate Billy Collins, Eavan Boland, Sophie Hannah, Katie Donovan, Bill Tinley, Jean O'Brien, Pat Boran, Leo Cullen, Michael O'Dea, Ger Reidy, John Keeble and James McAuley.
Memories crowd in. Many of us met partners there (temporary or full-time), some of us got gloriously tipsy (temporarily or full-time), but all of us climbed that "winding ancient stair", more rickety than winding, with the certainty that we would leave enriched by the experience. We were rarely disappointed.
As for the future of the the Winding Stair premises, Kevin Connolly has been quoted as saying that books will continue to be sold there, so perhaps it won't be replaced by yet another purveyor of pasta or monogrammed T-shirts. And other bookstores will continue to offer a reading space for writers. But whatever appears in its place on Ormond Quay, it will be many, many years before I glance over the Halfpenny Bridge without being reminded of the lights shining through the large rectangular windows, inviting me over for a coffee and a good browse.