The Submarine VOL 7 NO 2 DEC 2012 __________________________________________________________________________________________
EDITORIAL It’s not often that a school library gets to welcome not one, but two, books written by members of staff, but that is the privileged position St Columba’s Library finds itself in. The two books are, of course, Humphrey Jones’ A Neutron walks into a Bar, a collection of twitter-length scientific facts compiled with his fellow authors, Aoibhinn Ni Shuilleabhain, Maria Delaney and Paul O’Dwyer, Daisy McKeever and Garry Bannister’s new translation of Tomás Ó Criomhthain’s An tOileánach, The Islander, on which he worked with his cotranslator, Dr David Sowby, who has a long and distinguished relationship with St Columba’s. Both books are reviewed in this edition of The Submarine, and both have been very well received in the outside world. I’ll leave the reviews to speak for themselves and focus instead on the intriguing matter of the very different—yet in a curious way quite similar—provenance of the two books. You can hold both in your hands and read Dr Bannister’s and Mr Jones’ names on their covers, but think: The Islander was written in the 1860s in the ancient language of Irish, which is made more widely available through this excellent translation into a more recent language, English. At the other end of the scale A Neutron uses the self-imposed discipline of an ultra-modern form of communicated English, the tweet, digitally constrained to be 140 characters or less in length—yet it too has been summoned from ‘elsewhere’ to become a book. And though over 150 years separates the two, as does their content and tone, one could be tempted to say that The Islander resembles a set of (long) tweets or even a blog from the Blasket islands in the 1860s. I say this without diminishing the power of the book in any way, because it is a powerful book; but it has no over-arching narrative structure, being rather a series of stories of, and reflections on, everyday life on the island. Furthermore, as The Neutron demonstrates, tweeting can communicate serious information that is not limited to reports on one’s breakfast choices or unproven allegations against politicians. However we look at them, both books present us with a fascinating framework through which we can gaze on the serious matters of ‘life, death and the universe’. They also share an appealing directness. A reader of The Islander will find himself hunting for rabbits with a ferret or diving for crabs to use as bait or sitting in front of an open fire listening to stories of routings of tax officials or sea-borne tragedies; the same reader can be equally fascinated by the fact that frogs don’t vomit, but invert their stomachs out of their mouths, use their hands to clean them and then re-swallow them (is that just frogs?) And if one might be permitted to wring a final drop of meta-similarity from two very different books it is the fact that both have ended up as books. An tOileánach was essentially the writing down, the recording of an island’s life through the eyes of one individual, events that previously were—and subsequently would be—ephemeral and reliant on the memory of individuals, while the digital tweets of A Neutron also had no previous physical existence. Now both—the verbal communication of the past and the digital communication of the present—have found a physical commonality in book form. I would also like to mention a third book that has caught our imaginations here, and that is Selina Guinness’ The Crocodile at the Door. Beautifully written, it details her connections with St Columba’s, including being a pupil here, how she came to live in Tibradden House, and her relationship with her late uncle Charles who taught here and is very fondly remembered. Memories, __________________________________________________________________________________ 1
tragedy, developers and sheep farming are all examined with a warm perceptive eye. The book has been short-listed in the biography section of the Costa Book Awards. In a recent article in The Irish Times Selina wrote ‘I’m still enjoying the wonderful surprise of having my debut book nominated for a prestigious award, but I’ll admit that the grave responsibility of writing about other people’s lives tugs at the string to this big, blue balloon’. And just as we go to press a fourth book has come into the Library, edited by Justyna Pyz, David Dickson and Christopher Shepard. Entitled Irish Classrooms and British Empire: Imperial contexts in the origins of modern education it features a picture of St Columba’s famed Cloister cricket on its front cover and includes a paper by Ms Pyz herself entitled “St Columba’s College: an Irish school in the age of Empire. TMcC Librarian __________________________________________________________________________________
CONTENTS Editorial...........................................................1 My Kindle Shame Mr Swift.............................3 A Neutron Walks into a Bar, review Dr Bannister..........................4 “Dear Beloved” Madeleine Armstrong...........5 What’s Reading Me.........................................6 Poetry and Pictures, Iyobasa Bello-Asemota Quirin von Blomberg, Andrew Holt, Ralph Sutton-Sweetman………………………….....8 The Art of Racing in the Rain review Nyla Jamieson.........................9 Dr David Sowby Christmas Quiz..................10 The Islander review Mr McConville..............11 The Crocodile by the Door review Mr Girdham..........................12 New Books in the Library.............................12 What’s Writing Me........................................14 Detective Friction Mr McCarthy…………...16 *
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The Submarine would like to thank all those who contributed poems, prose and pictures to this issue for their time and effort. And also those ‘others’ who appeared somewhat unwillingly (and sometimes willingly, they were like turkeys voting) in our internationally syndicated but less than wholly truthful regular feature, What’s Reading Me, and it’s once-off never to be repeated second cousin, unless Mr Canning springs a surprise, What’s Writing Me. I would particularly like to thank Ms Smith, Mr Jameson and Mr Girdham, without whom this, and previous, issues would have been very much shorter (about two pages long). And finally I’d like to thank the
irrepressible Dr Bannister for, well, his pressure! In the nicest possible way! *
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DONORS As always the Library is extremely grateful to those who donate books to us. Constrained as we are by budget considerations, books from ‘outside’ give us a variety that we would not otherwise have. Our donors are also very understanding, invariably saying that we should only keep the books we want or find useful. I’d like to particularly thank three recent donors. Rev. Crossey gave us a wide selection of ‘warrior fiction’ from wellestablished historical authors such as Bernard Cornwell and Conn Iggulden, some of which were on our wish list, so to him we are very grateful. Mr Jones similarly has kept us up to date with science books—these are the best ones, that entertain as well as inform, imparting some of the wonder of the extraordinary world/ galaxy/universe that we inhabit. Finally I’d like to thank my colleague and fellow librarian, Mr Brett, who constantly feeds books into the system, two or three at a time, with a simple note attached, ‘for the Library’. Over the term, over the full year, these add up to many, many books.
Donors: Dr G. Bannister, Mr R. Brett, Mr N. Coldrick, Rev. N. Crossey, Mr H. Jones, Dr D. Sowby, Mr R. Swift, the G.K. White Memorial Fund.
MY KINDLE SHAME by Mr Swifty People who readily embrace brand new technological developments are known as ‘early adopters’. Those who turn their backs on the same changes are tagged ‘laggards’. However, on the spectrum of openness to new innovations, these latter folk are nothing compared to ye olde Luddites. Nowadays though, smashing up iPad minis wherever they appear can’t really be justified as the same primal struggle that Nottinghamshire textile workers undertook when destroying new weaving machines in the early 1800s. Where’s this going? Well it’s just I feel a bit left out. I wonder has a sociologist invented a name for me? Although I’m certainly lagging behind I’m not a fully dyed in the wool anti-techie. In fact I use computers with enough bluff and blarney to be considered a whizz by a few unknowing colleagues, and yet I can’t set the margins the way I want on Microsoft Word it often scuppers me. I have iTunes and an iPod but I’d sooner pay for a CD and load it up than buy music directly online. As yet I possess no touch-screen technology. Late adopter? Advanced laggard? Apparently I’m part of the late majority. My latest leap forward involved experimenting with the Kindle-sphere. Half term holidays with no checked-in luggage seemed the perfect place to begin. In true reticent adopter fashion I accepted the offer of borrowing the college Kindle from the librarian rather than diving in with a purchase. As things panned out I didn’t get any reading done at all. In fact chief Luddite, Ned Ludd, would have been proud of my treatment of this wafer thin hardware. Ready for a read at the boarding gate I revealed from my bag a Kindle whose smashed and frozen screen silently sighed in response to my peering, cringing visage. Absolutely nothing doing. A gone-er. Kaput. It was only then I earnestly wished I owned the damn thing outright. Of course I looked for excuses and scapegoats. Airport security. Those ruddy Ryanair cabin luggage size-check baskets. Ryanair in general. Blame Ryanair! But in truth, although the damage mystified me, there was no one but myself to consider culpable. I was reminded of an adage in the Swift household through the years – if it ain’t broke don’t lend it to Ronan. So if I’m asked about the quality of the Kindle reading experience I’ll have to defer, for the moment. But I’m not going to abandon the feeling I had at the boarding gate – a sudden desire for Kindle ownership – even if it was born out of clumsy shame. And Christmas is coming; I think I’ll buy several and spread the word, now that I’m converted…And why am I documenting all of this here? Well, as the library Kindle sits fractured and idle our kind librarian bides his time to contact the helpful Customer Care guy. And apart from credit card details all I felt I could usefully offer was a personal piece on the nature of technological adoption patterns; or rather an exclusive scoop on my Kindle shame – by way of profuse apology you understand – and this is how it ends.
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REVIEW - DR BANNISTER
A Neutron Walks into a Bar...Random Facts About Our Universe And Everything In It compiled by Aoibhinn Ní Shúilleabháin, Maria Delaney, Humphrey Jones & Paul O'Dwyer This zany encyclopaedic collection of scientific randomosities is a brilliant collection of entertaining, and indeed, sometimes shocking facts about the miraculous world that surrounds us. Would you believe, for example, that hot water freezes more quickly than cold or that fleas can jump a hundred times their own height? And for those keen mathematicians amongst among you who just love discovering patterns in numbers: did you know that 111, 111, 111 x 111, 111, 111 = 12,345,678, 987, 654, 321, or that 10 x 9 x 8 x 7 x 6 x 5 x 4 x 3 x 2 x 1 seconds is exactly six weeks? This is the kind of book you can dip into any time, time, and while smiling or laughing, learn something excitingly new and entertaining. The book contains many anecdotal references to astronomy, biology, chemistry, physics, maths and cleverly presents us with its fascinating scientific observations by an assortment ssortment of devices which vary from the use of religious texts (i.e. ( Mary's Virgin irgin Explanation Made Joseph Suspect of the Upstairs pstairs Neighbour - to help in remembering the order of the planets planet in our solar system) to the use of limericks and imaginative cartoon-graphics. car The book brings the reader right round the scientific spectrum, starting with some clever definitions of what exactly science might be about and then leading us in and out from the macro-world macro of the cosmos right down to micro-environment environment of our nano-world. world. Frogs, as all of you who are acquainted with the St Columba's Science Department's web-site web site will not be surprised, feature significantly in this book as do bodily functions of various kinds. But amongst my own personal favourites in this book are the many short snappy verses that brightly pepper its pages. Nuggets such as: I'm friends with many elements, Though some I wound up hating, But now I've chosen one for life, All thanks to carbon dating. This book is an excellent idea for a Christmas Christmas present as it has, and always will have, a broad appeal to a very wide readership with both teenagers and old-age old age pensioners immensely enjoying it, particularly towards the end of the book, where they, most certainly, will be 'periodically' rummaging rummagi through it. This little gem of a book is one you will return to again again; one you will never get weary reading. Apart from the contents of the book itself, there is another very attractive reason why this book should be on everybody's shopping list this Christmas. All the proceeds from the publication are being channelled to help those suffering from cystic fibrosis. So if you really would like to know what actually did happen when that Neutron walked into a bar and ordered a drink... I'm afraid, you'll y just have to go out and buy yourself a copy of ' A Neutron Walks into a Bar...'' It's in the Best Seller section of the Wise Owl. __________________________________________________________________________________ 4
Dear Beloved, Let me first introduce myself to you, I am a citizen of Sudan but currently staying in Burkina Faso. My name is Miss Joy Justin Yak, 24years old originated from Sudan. I got your E-mail address/profile through my internet search from your country national chamber of commerce when I was searching for a good and trust worthy person who will be my friend and I believe that it is better we get to know each other better and trust each other because I believe any good relationship will only last if it is built on truth and real love. My father Dr. Justin Yak Arop was the former Minister for SPLA Affairs and Special Adviser to President Salva Kiir of South Sudan for Decentralization. My father Dr. Justin Yak and my mother including other top Military officers and top government officials had been on board when the plane crashed on Friday May 02, 2008. You can read more about the crash through the below site: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7380412.stm. After the burial of my father, my uncles conspired and sold my father’s properties to a Chinese Expatriate and live nothing for me. On a faithful morning, I opened my father's briefcase and found out the documents which he have deposited huge amount of money in one bank in Burkina Faso with my name as the next of kin. I travelled to Burkina Faso to withdraw the money so that I can start a better life and take care of myself. On my arrival, the Branch manager of the Bank whom I met in person told me that my father's instruction to the bank was the money is release to me only when I am married or present a trustee who will help me and invest the money overseas. I have chosen to contact you after my prayers and I believe that you will not betray my trust. But rather take me as your own sister. Though you may wonder why I am so soon revealing myself to you without knowing you, well, I will say that my mind convinced me that you are the true person to help me. More so, I will like to disclose much to you if you can help me to relocate to your country because my uncle has threatened to assassinate me. The amount is $8.5 Million and I have confirmed from the bank in Burkina Faso. You will also help me to place the money in a more profitable business venture in your Country. However, you will help by recommending a nice University in your country so that I can complete my studies. It is my intention to compensate you with 20% of the total money for your services and the balance shall be my capital in your establishment. As soon as I receive your interest in helping me, I will put things into action immediately. In the light of the above, I shall appreciate an urgent message indicating your ability and willingness to handle this transaction sincerely. Please do keep this only to yourself.
“Dear Dear Beloved” Beloved Madeleine Armstrong recently received a variant of an email familiar to most of us. Normally people delete these emails, but just this once Madeleine decided to reply...
Miss ‘Joy Justin Yak’,
Here I have written my ‘urgent’ reply indicating my ‘ability’ and willingness’ to handle this transaction. Quite frankly though I have no ‘willingness’ to ‘handle’ it. Quite frankly I have no willingness to do business with you and even if I could ... I still wouldn’t because I would never want to. Your ridiculous tale and appalling punctuation have put literature in general to shame. Your pitiful attempt to scam me out of my wellearned money is truly, well... pitiful. A baboon would have Sincerely yours, made a better attempt and would probably have Miss Joy Justin Yak achieved a higher level of punctuation. Also, you foolish girl (if indeed you are a girl), if your foolish situation is as you described, I see are obviously need of immediate help – mental help, in fact, for going on the internet and seeking out a random stranger. I also think that, if your father truly had such a high-ranking job, he obviously would have plenty of connections – more than a plane-full at any rate. Go and annoy one of them instead. If your uncle really threatened to assassinate you, tell the police. That is what they are for. I don’t want a sister anyway. And the fact that you claimed in your email that I ‘will’ help you is a bit presumptuous. And what does SPLA stand for anyway? Stupid People Lie A lot? I’m afraid that all I can recommend is that you go get a brain cell. Also I suggest you might watch Gone with the Wind and see what financial problems befall people who make stupid decisions. Finally, in the words of the man himself, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
The person you royally ticked off. __________________________________________________________________ 5
WHAT’S READING ME… In which The Submarine poses some important questions, principally, what are you…? Mr Clarke: Reading? Er…it’s by Benson…de Lucia? Is it Lady Lucia? Queen Lucia?... The Submarine: ☺ What’s it about? Lucia? This is like talking to Mr Swift after he did his memory course. Mr Brett recommended it to me. That’ll do it. It’s the second one. ☺ Oh, very good. Not the second one chronologically, it’s the second one I’ve read. (He’s only read two books? But he seems so sure of himself…) ☺Well done, that’s great. She’s a woman author, isn’t she, Benson? No, he’s a man. I’ve been dipping in to Stephen Fry too, An Incomplete History of Music. It’s written very much the way he speaks. (There, he’s mentioned his first book. Sounds like an audiobook, too—does he know the difference, I wonder?) It’s not B.L.T. Benson, the famous sandwich maker? ☺ No, E. F. Benson. Mr Jameson: Great Expectations, for the third time. The Submarine: ☺ Didn’t it live up to them the first two times?☺ ☺☺ Pardon? Oh. Heh heh. Julian (Mr Girdham) recommended The Art of Slow Reading to me, and that got me back to Dickens. Marie von Brauchitsch: The Help by Katherine Stockett (about black ‘maids’ in the southern states of America, and how a white journalist persuades them to tell their stories) – it is a very thrilling story and it’s very interesting because it’s based on a true story and includes the historical background. Hector Wright: Engage by Paul Kimmage. I thought this was a very sad book because it’s about a 21 year old man who got paralysed from the neck down playing rugby and had to re-learn how to live. Mr Finn: I’m reading Nesbo, The Leopard. I was racing through it during the holidays but now I’m down to a snail’s pace. It’s one of his gory thrillers, grisly serial killers, snowbound cabins in the Norwegian Alps. The Submarine: ☺ Alps? I didn’t think the Alps were in Nor— Harry…em…Harry…er? ☺ Hole. That’s it! But they say it Ho-luh. In the Alps? Look, whatever the Norwegian mountains are called. I don’t know. The fjords are the other end of the process though. He’s a typical detective with problems, with a past, women, alcohol… ☺Are you looking wistful? No. ☺You are looking wistful! Am not. Are. Not. __________________________________________________________________________________ 6
Konstantin Behr: He is back. I don’t know the title in English. Very interesting book about the return of Hitler in the 21st century, ury, it’s very humorous and entertainingly written in an easy casual language. Mrs Haslett: Oh gosh. What am I reading? The new Sebastian Faulks? No, Sweet Tooth, Tooth, Ian McEwan’s latest. I really enjoyed it, it’s got lots of good twists. It’s a gripping story. story. She’s recruited as a spy then gets lost in her own lies, both emotionally and professionally. It’s really good. Sam Harley: What You See is What You Get by Alan Sugar. It’s a really good book, very inspiring from an entrepreneurial point of view, I really r recommend it, there’s good content for business. It’s about how he came from nothing to being a well-known known entrepreneur. Kezia Wright: Triste Tropiques by Claude Levi-Strauss. It’s a fantastic read, draws together many different fields of thought, but b mainly serves as an ethnographic study of the indigenous tribes of Brazil. I’d highly recommend it for anyone interested in anthropology. Ms Smith: The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach, it’s absolutely brilliant. That’s fielding as in baseball but it’s not a sports book. He’s a young freshman student, his experiences playing with the college team and campus life but more than that obviously. I’ve been recommending it to friends. And Wolf Hall too (Hilary Mantel), which I loved, it’s a weighty tome. And On the Road by Kerouac, which is, I don’t know…not what I expected. Mr Cron: Jah well, I’ve been rhidding the Bible.. My Bible rhidding has rhilly dropped off by not hevving inny time to rhid, so I’m trying to rhidd the Bible in one year, jah, see look, I’ve got a bible epp on my fehn— (Mr Cron shows The Submarine rine the bible app on his phone. phone. The Submarine sees that Mr Cron has only got as far as Genesis even though it’s November. November The Submarine decides not to mention this because = = )— Do you want inny Arrgentinna rrgentinna tickits, I’ve gott fouhrr left Killorglin sind them up threwh Humphrhrey (Mr Jones). Jah look, it rriminds me to rrid. There’s an audio button heh, so if I’m on the trridmill— The Submarine: ☺ When hen you’re teaching? No, I uise thi trridmill for ixxercise. xxercise. Or when yam waiting for the kits for ten or fifteen minutes, jah. The thing is Humphrey says he’ll help me get rhid of them, but hmm, where’s Humphrhrey? ☺ I think you might have a book title there. Quirin von Blomberg: Blindness by Jose Saramago. It’s a vivid description of anarchy and the sheer human longing for survival. It showed me the egocentricity of human beings. It should be read in comparison to George Orwell’s masterpiece, Nineteen Eighty Four.. It’s the extreme opposite to a totalitarian totalitar system. Dr Singleton: Revenger by Rory Clements, I’ve just started it, Peter (Mr McCarthy) recommended it, it’s set in Queen Elizabeth I’s time, the Tudors, it’s similar to C. J. Sansom’s books (the Shardlake series) which were brilliant. The trouble is getting time to read, after fifteen minutes your head starts dropping. Mr Finn: Not. The Submarine:: You are actually. Not. Are. Not. __________________________________________________________________________________ 7
You were Silent While I Died Iyobasa Bello-Asemota You saw life as a race track I took it in the slow lane You viewed it as a feast I had feasted on its pain But as the fast-flowing river flows into a gentle sea, Meeting you was my destiny. Like night and day, having nothing in common Through compromise, we met at dusk and dawn. Like yin and yang, completing each other Two separate halves of a whole one. Vines intertwined around a tree, joined together as far As the eye could see I was bound to you as you were to me.
Ralph Sweetman-Sutton
Alas, the love I thought was limitless Has at last reached its limit The feelings I thought boundless When essential, were useless. When I needed you most, you were nowhere to be found You had a lifeline but left me in the raging sea to drown My soul was in danger, no other help could I find And yet, you were silent while I died. _____________________________________________________________________ In Act V Scene I of Shakespeare's Macbeth, Lady Macbeth is seen to write a letter or note while sleepwalking. Quirin von Blomberg has written this poetic piece imagining the content of Lady Macbeth's note. Dear Supernatural powers that I called to life, to exchange my milk with gall I said to make me as cruel a wife he needed but now regret my hands being red. Know well that what is done cannot be undone. But still want back what was before. Sleep, beauty and love. But also see that wanting all can leave you with none. All unrest around and in myself, causing glass to shatter on the shelf. Know not the craft to clear me of thee would give my fortune to find the key.
Andrew Holt
If only I had the courage to share my deeds not even my most lov’d husband open for this. So full of certainty he is and greeds the view on earthly things slipped through his palms
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REVIEW - NYLA JAMIESON
The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein Ever since I read the first page of ‘The Art of Racing in the Rain’ I can’t get it out of my mind. It is an amazingly captivating book. I remember looking for a good book in the Library and this novel’s very eye-catching front cover drawing me towards it. When I read the back it didn’t sound like my kind of book, especially because of the mention of racing cars, but thankfully I was drawn in by the dog on the front cover, as I love animals, and I decided to give it a shot. I was very glad that I did. I completely loved this book. It is very like Marley and Me and I would recommend it to anyone without hesitation. Garth Stein’s plot is very clever as he draws in fans of racing cars with the racing part, lovers of emotional stories with the many deaths and losses, and animal fanatics with the whole book being about a dog, though it does have a few bad examples and crude language. These can be quite easily overlooked though. The book is about a Labrador cross called Enzo, his master Denny, Denny’s wife Eve and their child Zoe. Enzo wishes to become human and believes that when a dog dies it becomes human but only if that dog is ready. Denny is a racing car driver and is very passionate about his work. Eve falls ill about half way through the story and dies. Zoe is a young child for most of the story. After Eve’s death Denny has to fight against Eve’s parents for custody of Zoe. Eve’s parents use all means to win the fight, making Denny’s life a living nightmare. They don’t let Zoe see him, use propaganda to make Zoe wish to stay with them, and take the majority of Denny’s paycheque, forcing him to sell his home to keep the case against them valid, and to be able to pay a lawyer as well as look after Enzo and feed himself. Most of the story is set in or around a Seattle neighbourhood called Leschi, on Lake Washington. This is where Denny’s house is. Enzo does not really like the apartment but it overviews a lake which he likes as he is part water dog. I think I would share Enzo’s feelings on his apartment as it is very small and I prefer wide open spaces, and it doesn’t have a garden which I would hate. I would like the balcony overlooking the lake though. A key moment in this book would definitely be when Denny bought Enzo, as if this hadn’t happened then wouldn’t be a story at all, as the book revolves around Enzo and Denny’s relationship. Another key moment is when Eve died. The night of her death Enzo had a dream and saw her dying but didn’t consider that it had actually happened. Enzo and Denny were at the park when Denny got a call saying that Eve was dead. Denny and Enzo were completely distraught. This is when the battle for the custody of Zoe started. A third key moment was when Luca, who works for Ferrari, offers Denny a job testing cars in Italy. At this time Denny can’t leave the country or even the state or his case for custody of Zoe will be dropped. Thankfully Luca was in a similar situation to Denny and was given a chance and so he decides to keep the offer open until Denny has finished the fight against Eve’s parents. There are kind of two endings to this book. There is the end of the story, and also another chapter after that saying what happens after the story ends. The first ending is my favourite as it is very emotional. The last paragraph refers to something that happened earlier in the book, when Denny took Enzo on a few laps of a race track and told Enzo that two barks meant go faster. At the end of the book Enzo says, “I bark twice to tell him, to tell everyone in the world, to say faster! I bark twice so he knows, so he remembers. What I want now is what I’ve always wanted. One more lap, Denny! One more lap! Faster!” Denny pats Enzo and Enzo collapses and Denny tells him, “It’s okay Enzo if you need to go now, you can go. I love you, boy,” then Enzo sees the fields of where he was born and __________________________________________________________________________________ 9
runs. He runs towards them and doesn’t look back, he leaves Denny behind and frees him to do what he needs to do. Enzo leaves his life behind, his task in this life completed. After Enzo dies there is another chapter which features an older Denny. By now he has become a professional racing driver. Zoe is also older and is about twenty-three. There is also a man and his son, who is a huge fan of Denny’s. Denny offers him an opportunity to drive racing cars when he is older when hears his name is Enzo. This ending also quotes from earlier in the book as Denny often told Enzo, “ the car goes where the eyes go,” and in the last paragraph the boy named Enzo, who I believe is the reborn Enzo, says in Italian, “La macchina va dove vanno gli ochi,” which means “the car goes where the eyes go.” __________________________________________________________________________________
THE DR DAVID SOWBY CHRISTMAS QUIZ Dr David Sowby has very kindly offered a prize of €25 for the first correct answer received to these two puzzles. As The Submarine already knows the answers—Dr Sowby gave them to us!—it would be unfair of us to claim the money. Therefore we think the fairest thing is that all answers should be placed in the sealed box on the Supervisor’s desk by Thursday 13 December. Remember to put your name on your answer. All correct answers will go into a draw and the lucky winner will find him or herself with a little extra something for Christmas. 1. The vicar and the curate The vicar and the curate were chatting outside the church. Suddenly, the vicar said to the curate, “That’s interesting. Do you see those three people approaching? The sum of their ages is exactly twice yours and the product of their ages is 2450. Can you tell me how old they all are?” The curate, who was a clever chap, thought for a minute or two and then said: “You haven’t given me enough information.” “Right,” replied the vicar, “then I’ll give you one more piece of information, and this will be sufficient: I am older than any of them.” “Oh, I see,” said the curate. “In that case their ages are X, Y and Z.” What are the ages of each of the five persons? 2. Black or white? A manager wished to make an appointment to an important position. He narrowed the field of candidates to three clever individuals but couldn’t decide which of them to appoint. So he decided to submit them to a test. He had them all into his office and told them the following: “In my right hand here I have three black discs, and in my left there are three white ones.” He showed them the discs. “I’m going to blindfold all of you, and then I’m going to stick either a black or a white disc on each of your foreheads. When I tell you to, remove your own blindfold, look around; if you see a white disc, put up your hand. The first one to tell me the colour of the disc on his or her own head gets the job.” He blindfolded them all and stuck a white disc on each of their heads. He hid the black discs in his pocket. On his command they took off the blindfolds, looked around and, of course, each of them put up a hand. After a short pause one of the candidates said: “I see – I must have a white disc.” How did the candidate work that out?
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REVIEW – MR McCONVILLE
The Islander by Tomás O’Crohan, translated by Garry Bannister and David Sowby The Islander is a new translation by Dr Garry Bannister and Dr David Sowby of Tomás O Criomhthain’s An tOileánach, an account of his life on the Blasket Islands from the 1860s onwards. A new translation is very welcome, the last being that of the esteemed Robin Flower in the 1930s. As a non-Irish speaker, An tOileánach is one of those books you hear about, along with the Peig of Peig Sayers, and to have its vivid story available in a new translation is wonderful. And what an excellent translation this is—I don’t mean in an academic sense because I’m not qualified to judge—but in the sense that you feel you are reading the freely expressed words of the Islander himself. There are no archaic formulations, no redundancies, and no anachronisms. This is a difficult feat to accomplish because the rhythms of Irish are so different to English, as are the idioms. Expressions in Irish, that have sense and colour in Irish, if translated into today’s English can sound like second-degree Synge or a Myles na Gopaleen pastiche, and the dignity of O’Crohan’s words, and indeed his life, would be lost. What shines through in this translation is O’Crohan’s strong clear expression of what he saw and experienced: the reader gets the sense of a different life, different times, of a different culture altogether, without any distractions of the ‘broth of a boy’ sort. Above all what comes through is the character of O’Crohan himself, a self-confessed ‘pet’ in his childhood as the youngest in the family. He tells us of his boyhood and intermittent education, and his growing involvement in the adult life of the Blasket community. There is fishing, rabbit hunting, ferrets, tragedy, family life, jokes, deprivation, stories, characters, trips to other islands and the mainland, and drink. There is an overall playfulness as if on the island no-one quite grows up. The poet turns up when Tomas has turf to cut and lies on his back in the sun and recites poetry, getting Tomas to write some of it down, and suddenly the whole day is gone despite the early start. His uncle Dermot is a character and ‘rake’, always up to devilment and more often to be found at the O’Crohan cottage than his own. Yet life could be incredibly hard—he describes fishing in small open boats ‘the worst of anything I’ve ever been involved in’. And while you might hear only the surface of the tale, your imagination ranges over what lies behind, makes judgements, is intrigued, can picture rocks and sea and weathered faces, voices raised in song and argument, turf smoke, Atlantic storms and small rockstrewn fields, hard labour and wasted days, the smell of fish and animals, constant wind, and the sense of isolation and an encroaching outside world. You become aware of the smallness of the human range on the island—‘I’m related to all of them,’ O’Crohan says irritably at one stage, ‘and most of them I don’t like,” and of the smallness of diet which seems to consist mostly of potatoes, yellow scad (fish), hard yellow cake (bread), and the occasional seal. Rabbits too. Odd facts emerge, such as that the islanders did not have kettles and did not drink tea—tea washed ashore in chests from a wreck is used to dye petticoats, while the first currach to be used on the island only appeared when O’Crohan was in his twenties and provokes a ‘must-have’ mentality among the islanders. The priest is rare, usually collected only when someone has died, and a husband abandoning a wife or vice versa is not unknown. Over the twelve days of Christmas all the men of the island play a non-stop game of hurling on the White Strand that bruises and batters them. Underlying it all is the unnerving morality of those who live in close proximity to the sea and death, which consists in equal parts of great courage and great indifference. O’Crohan was not a professional writer but he was a great chronicler, and the book takes the form of a series of stories about the life that he saw and experienced. Ideally it is read in short bursts. The stories linger in your mind, not for their drama, though there is some, but for their humanity, the small jokes and rows and journeys and events of everyday life. At the end O’Crohan says ‘I have tried to describe the character of the people who were around me so that there might be an account of them after we’re gone, because our like will never be here again’. I think Dr Bannister’s and Dr Sowby’s translation has guaranteed that we will continue to know them and how they lived. Perhaps the best tribute I can pay is that they reveal Tomas O’Crohan as someone you’d like to meet. Tell us more, you want to say to him—you imagine him pushing tobacco into his pipe as he orders his thoughts and gathers the story, a gleam in his eye. __________________________________________________________________________________ 11
REVIEW – MR GIRDHAM
The Crocodile by the Door by Selina Guinness It's very hard to review the new memoir by Selina Guinness dispassionately. The author is an Old Columban, and lives close to the College, but most importantly at the centre of The Crocodile by the Door: the story of a house, a farm and a family, is the story of her uncle Charles, who worked here for many years as a French and German teacher, and is very fondly remembered. When Selina Guinness came as a pupil to St Columba's, she lived just up the hill in Tibradden House (also the name of our junior boys' boarding house): "I felt as if I was being handed over as some kind of trophy to the victors of a battle I hadn't realised was being waged above my head. My mother had brought me to Tibradden at birth, and now I was being handed back to the house." Many years later she returned to live in the house, this time with Colin (soon to be her husband), and would have to start waging her own battles - with the crumbling edifice, with a new farming life, with ravenous property developers, with the after-effects of her uncle's life. The Crocodile by the Door tells these stories, all skilfully interwoven in a clear and supple style. In particular, its narrative drive comes from three strands - Charles's declining health, the tragic Kirwan family who lived in the lodge, and attempts by the property developer Bernard McNamara to buy much of the land. The result is an immensely readable first book, and highly recommended. Finally, back to Charles: as with the Kirwan family, Selina Guinness had to pick her way carefully here through delicate issues of privacy. She has succeeded admirably. The Charles Guinness in these pages has all the eccentricity, kindness, enthusiasm and above all sweetness of the man many of us here knew and loved. __________________________________________________________________________________
NEW BOOKS IN THE LIBRARY These are some of the books we added to our shelves this term. JUNIOR FICTION
After by Morris Gleitzman Artemis Fowl and the Last Guardian by EoinColfer Asylum by Rachel Anderson Birth of a Killer: the saga of Larten Crepsley 1 by Darren Shan Born to Run by Michael Morpurgo BRZK by Michael Grant Diary of a Wimpy Kid 7: The Third Wheel by Jeff Kinney An Elephant in the Garden by Michael Morpurgo Emerald Star by Jacqueline Wilson
The Enchantress: the secrets of the immortal Nicholas Flamel; 6 by Michael Scott Fear by Michael Grant Gods and Warriors by Michelle Paver Guardian Angel by Robert Muchamore Heroes of Olympus 3: The Mark of Athena by Rick Riordan H.I.V.E. 2: Overlord Protocol by Mark Walden How to Save a Life by Sara Zarr The Kane Chronicles: The Serpents Shadow by Rick Riordan Matched by Ally Condie My Dad is Ten Years Old by Mark O'Sullivan Naked by Kevin Brooks Oblivion by Anthony Horowitz Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked by Derek Landy Spook's: Slither's Tale by Joseph Delaney Stolen by Lucy Christopher Strange Hiding Place by Graham Marks Wonder by R. J. Palacio Zom-B by Darren Shan
Forest Fungi in Ireland by Paul Dowding and Louis Smith George Washington: His Excellency by Joseph Ellis I am the Secret Footballer: lifting the lid on the beautiful game by Anonymous In the Shadow of the Sword: the battle for global empire and the end of the ancient world by Tom Holland The Islander by Tomas O’Crohan, translated by Garry Bannister and David Sowby Julius Caesar: the life and times of the people's dictator by Luciano Canfora Monkeys with Typewriters: how to write fiction and unlock the secret power of stories by Scarlett Thomas Nagasaki by Craig Collie A Neutron walks into a Bar...random facts about our Universe and everything in it by Aoibhinn Ni Shuilleabhain, Maria Delaney, Humphrey Jones and Paul O'Dwyer (editors) On The Wealth of Nations by P. J.O'Rourke The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction by Alan Jacobs Prefaces to Shakespeare by Bruce Tanner Reading Shakespeare's Sonnets: a new commentary by Don Paterson Rhapsody in Blue: Leinster's epic 2010-2011 European campaign by Peter Breen, Samurai: the Japanese Warrior's (unofficial) Manual by StephenTurnbull The Second World War by Antony Beevor A Terrible Beauty: British Artists in the First World War by Paul Gough Top Gear The Cool 500: the coolest cars ever made by Matt Master The Undercover Economist by TimHarford, Wonders of the Universe by Brian Cox and Andrew Cohen
JUNIOR NON-FICTION
Guinness World Records 2013, Craig Glenday, editor SENIOR FICTION
The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein Bones of the Hills by Con Iggulden Dogs at the Perimeter by Madeleine Thien The Dry Grass of August by Anna Jean Mayhew The Echo Glassby Heather Morrall The Gladiator by SimonScarrow The Glass Room by Simon Mawer The Hard Way by Lee Child House Rules by Jodie Picoult The Housekeeper and the Professor byYoko Ogawa Lords of the Bow by Con Iggulden The Lost Army by Valerio Massimo Manfredi The Mystery of Mercy Close by Marian Keyes Nemesis by Philip Roth One Hundred Names by Cecelia Ahern Prince by Rory Clements Settlement: a novel by Christoph Hein Second star to the right by Deborah Hautzig The Shelbourne Ultimatum by Paul Howard The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, Madeline State of Wonder by Ann Patchett The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell Triggs: the autobiography of Roy Keane's dog by Paul Howard The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks SENIOR NON-FICTION
Anatomy of Exercise: a trainer's guide to your workout by Pat Manocchia Art from the First World War, Imperial War Museum Atlas of the Great Irish Famine 1845-1852 by John Crowley, William J. Smyth, Mike Murphy (editors) The A-Z of Global Warming by Simon J. Rosser Boomerang: the biggest bust by Michael Lewis Country Girl: a memoir by Edna O'Brien The Crash Course: the unsustainable future of our economy, energy and environment by Chris Martenson The Crocodile by the Door: the story of a house, a farm and a family by Selina Guinness The Desperate Housewives Cookbook: juicy dishes and saucy sauces by Christopher Styler The Elements: a visual exploration of every known atom in the universe by Theodore Gray The Empire Stops Here: a journey along the frontiers of the Roman World by Philip Parker Essential Guide to Stage Management, Lighting and Sound by Scott Palmer Exploited by EmmaJackson Fascism in Europe, 1919-1945 by Philip Morgan Food Rules: an eater's manual by Michael Pollan
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WHAT’S WRITING ME… ME… Impressed by the remarkable outbreak of book writing by colleagues and flushed with the success of What’s Reading Me, The Submarine decided to ask any members of staff still talking to it whether they had any writing plans. Mr Clarke: I am writing exams. The Submarine: Any ambitions though? Go on, ‘course you have. Cookery books? No. I’m a very low-level cook. You are not. Even Desperate Housewives are writing cookery books—“Juicy dishes and saucy bits.” No. I have to say they’re a very weird crew though. No. How about a Desperate Housemasters Cookbook? Go away! Mr Finn: No, I’m not, why would I be writing books. The Submarine: Half the staff are, I didn’t want you to feel left out. Well I am writing music, does that count? It does! For The Key Notes. Keynotes are what, like Leaving Cert summaries—like York notes? There is a meaningful pause while The Submarine receives the dead eye from Mr Finn…For The Key Notes Christmas Concert Superb Super-Special Christmas Extra Wonderful Christmas Extravaganza featuring The Key Notes. It’s on at Christmas and features The Key Notes. It’s really good. Writing arrangements is tough! I bet it is. It’s certainly writing. There’s cheesy Christmas chestnuts-round-the-fire stuff— Cheesy chestnuts? --all the way to U2, Radiohead, Florence and the Machine and back again to traditional high Christmas croony Magic Moments, Val Doonican sweaters, egg nog and Christmas hayrides, plus some elf thrashing, reindeer hobbling and Lapp dancing—there’s something for everyone. We’re on Monday 17 December in the RDS. The Key Notes. This sounds like an ad, I’m afraid we’ll have to charge— Tickets are available from Ticketmaster and all usual outlets. Monday 17 December, The Key Notes, 8 pm, RDS. You know the Christmas edition of The Submarine doesn’t come out till August? Mrs Haslett: No. The Submarine: Is that no-well-I-might-be it’s funny you should ask, or plain no? No. Sophie’s going to an erotic writing seminar with the Fifty Shades woman though. Is that book in the Library? I bet it isn’t. It is. I can’t get it back off Mr Swift though, it’s pure luck he sees things in black and white.
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Mr Jameson: No, not any more. Short stories, used to, hundreds and hundreds going nowhere. No, I’m focussing on teaching, the thing about teaching is you’ve got to re-invent yourself every day. The Submarine: Like one day you’re Mr Jameson, the next day you’re Mr Powers, and on Tuesday you’ll be Mr Bushmills? Heh heh. Heh. And when you get cross you’re a hot whiskey. Punch. Sorry? A hot punch. Okay, got to go now, Library phone ringing.
The Submarine And Ulster says—? Mr Patterson: No. Dr Singleton: I’m writing my Christmas list. The Submarine: Any ambitions, though? Not to do with writing. Ohh?? The Nobel Prize for Physics. Or Maths would do. Oh. I thought...maybe...a cookbook? In between prizes. Isn’t cooking really maths and physics combined? Desperate Scientists Cookboom?
Ms Smith: No. The Submarine No letters? No cookbooks? A diary even? Wedding vows. Why? !!! . . . OMG!!!!!! Mr Cron: Jah, yam wrhiting rrhugby notes, prrinciples of plaiy end thit sort of thingk. Liife’s a bit med but I wood like all tims in the skuul to pliy to the same pattin lekka. The Submarine: You want all St Columba’s teams to play the same style of rugby. Jah, like Mz Milone Brrreddy all sinking off the sime himmn sheeet? Hey hev you sin Humphrrhey, I still hev fourhh tickits lift. Jah, yie put thim on the fuhn, type it inn, and itt emmails me my thoughrhts. Does it do translation? Jah, I ken sind thim to the other coaches. Hihr, how do yih know someone his an ifuhn? Dunno. Thiy’ll shiw it to yhou!
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DETECTIVE FRICTION in which Mr McCarthy muses upon the genre while he awaits the return to the Library of the second book in the series he is reading‌ My most recent reading has been Martyr by Rory Clements. It's a detective novel set in Elizabethan England, an era of great uncertainty as the Catholic King Philip of Spain prepares to set his Armada on the Protestant Elizabeth I. Murder, political and religious intrigue, love and hate, dogma and heresy and lots of nastiness abound in this fast-paced and atmospheric story. The detective is a man named John Shakespeare (yes, he is a brother to William) and it's quite similar to the series of books set in the earlier Tudor period by CJ Sansom. The book has now passed into the hands of my wife and as I await the second in the series, Revenger, I am prompted to ponder on just a few of the great fictional detectives of literature and the eras and circumstances in which they operated: We have the Agatha Christie creations, Miss Marple (very Middle England) and Hercule Poirot (Belgian, not French). Arthur Conan Doyle gifted us the sleuthing skills of the peerless Sherlock Holmes (so well crafted that many believe him to have really existed, drug addiction and all). Hard-boiled American detectives of the 1930s and 1940s such as Dashiell Hammet's Sam Spade and Raymond Chandlers's Philip Marlowe provided much material for the film noir movement of 1940s Hollywood in films such as The Maltese Falcon, The Thin Man and The Big Sleep. My own favourite American detectives are found in the 87th Precint series by Ed McBain. A most unusual setting for a detective novel is a Polish prisoner-of-war camp in 1943 as seen in Clifford Irving's Angel of Zin, while in children's literature Enid Blyton provided us with the extremely irritating Famous Five (instead of lashings of ginger beer I would simply advocate a lashing). The first detective story is credited to American author Edgar Allen Poe. In his Murders in the Rue Morgue, a short story from 1841, a double murder is committed in Paris. It is left to amateur detective and concerned citizen C. Auguste Dupin to reveal the true culprit, with astonishing results. And so as I attempt to fill the gap in my reading before the second instalment of the John Shakespeare series I have returned to one of my great heroes of modern investigation, the helper of the helpless, the defender of the defenceless, the witty poetryloving old barrister cum amateur sleuth Mr Horace Rumpole. Created by John Mortimer, the character of Rumpole defends his clients in the courts of the Old Bailey in London with a high regard for the rights of man tempered by a healthy optimistic cynicism and a wry sense of humour - the only opponent he fears is his formidable and long-suffering wife Hilda, who is referred to as she who must be obeyed. Anyone interested in the workings of the law courts will find the Rumpole series great fun. There are about fourteen volumes in the collection with titles like Rumpole of the Bailey, Rumpole for the Defence and Rumpole on Trial. Some copies are to be found in the library and I recommend them for entertainment value alone. ______________________________________________________________________ 16