When a book scandalised a village

Lorna Hogg relates the events surrounding the publication of Valley of Squinting Windows

Delvin, Co Westmeath, birthplace of Brinsley MacNamara

‘They burned my book in the best medieval fashion..’ An intriguing comment by any author. Should we expect startling political revelations, perhaps, or a tale of Mafia style revenge? Neither of these. The Valley of the Squinting Windows’was set in the Ireland of 1918, possibly in Delvin, Co. Westmeath and any politics involved were mainly of the sexual variety. A century later, it is now connected with two stories. The print version tells a tale which may have been inspired by local events. The second one tells what happened when a community felt cruelly misrepresented in print – by one of their own.

Westmeath born John Weldon (1890 – 1963) took the pen name of Brinsley MacNamara for his first book. He grew up near the small town of Delvin, where the family later moved, when his father John Weldon Snr. became a local school teacher. The young Weldon left Delvin after school, and went to Dublin, where he joined The Abbey Players, and he toured America with them in 1911.

He also started to write, and it has been suggested that the inspiration for his first book, The Valley of the Squinting Windows was based on the real life story of a girl whose reputation was deliberately ruined - on the advice of a solicitor. Her wealthy admirer took her for a ‘weekend’ in Dublin. She expected to return with a sparkling ring – encircling the correct finger, of course. In fact her lover dumped her on their return home. Everyone there knew of the trip – and she was then branded a prostitute.

The incident tells us much about male/female relationships of the time. The girl, according to contemporary and local judgement, ‘fell’. She ‘gave in too soon.’ She ‘hadn’t made sure of him’. Women were objectivised in those times, physically and morally. One example is the fact that Brinsley MacNamara coined the phrase ‘beef to the heels like a Mullingar heifer, which admittedly, he used in an agricultural description. However, it entered popular country-speak – and was often disparagingly used in descriptions of women who lacked shapely legs. Women were judged harshly at that time, in terms of looks, weight, shape and breeding potential and also in their behaviour and attitudes. Men, on the other hand, were often too frightened to recognise or acknowledge their true feelings – or with Mother constantly in the picture, act on them. This provided the story’s background.

Westmeath born John Weldon (1890 – 1963) took the pen name of Brinsley MacNamara for his first book.

Background, of course, was not the only concern. Despite MacNamara’s protestations that the story did not relate to Delvin life, if locals could not recognise their own characters – many could claim to recognise others. Even worse, if they were not immediately identifiable, the roles they played in the book – e.g. postmistress, pub landlord’s wife, etc. allowed for speculation as to which characters has a basis in reality.

The book’s story started some two decades before the main events. Young and beautiful Nan Byrne hoped that her relationship with local wealthy and eligible Henry Shannon, would lead to marriage. She became pregnant, but Henry refused to marry her. She then suffered a miscarriage. Henry married another woman, and Nan left for the UK, and later married Ned Brennan. The couple returned to the town of Garradrimna, in the Irish Midlands – where Ned was quickly told of Nan’s past. He became an alcoholic, and it is suggested, was sometimes violent towards her.

Twenty years later, the couple were still unhappily married, but with a son, John, who was training for the priesthood, but in Garradrimna on a holiday. Nan had earlier attempted Shannon payback, by intercepting letters between Myles Shannon, brother of the now deceased Henry, and a potential wife. The relationship foundered. Myles Shannon, bitter and enraged, seized his opportunity for revenge, and encouraged a friendship between his nephew Ulick, and Nan’s son John. Both men became attracted to – and John fell in love with, an English arrival, Rebecca, the new schoolteacher. When Rebecca became pregnant by Ulick, a letter to him from her was intercepted, and the news spread. The local priest was informed of Rebecca’s pregnancy, and she left Garradrimna in disgrace. John, infuriated by Ulick’s perceived callous rejection of Rebecca, murdered him – just as Nan learnt that Ulick was in fact her own son. Her first baby did not die at birth, as she had been told. He was removed and sold to Henry Shannon, whose wife could not bear a child.

This dramatic storyline was certainly out of touch with the contemporary idealistic image of Irish comely maidens and brave and true warriors, in a newly free Ireland. It is easy to imagine the reaction when the book had its public first reading, apparently on the steps of Clonyn Castle, to expectant and proud Delvin residents.

Some characterisations were particularly cruel – the landlord’s wife, described in the book as the hardest women in the town, due to her childlessness, had in reality lost two children at birth. The postmistress was a gentle soul, appalled by her characterisation as a busybody who steamed open customers’ letters.

It must be said that in an age before television, with few other events to draw interest and attention, such a reaction could be understood, if not accepted. Travel, further education and re-location were not as freely available then as now. There were no real options for many people to leave home and move on after any life setback or disappointment. They had to live with their mistakes – and bitterness was often a result.

Anger and resentment grew, and the book was famously burned publicly in the town. The villagers seethed with rage at their portrayal as narrow minded, spiteful and vengeful – and promptly sought vengeance.

There were calls for the removal of Brinsley’s school teacher father. Parents boycotted his school - and eventually John MacNamara Senior had to leave his post. This caused considerable financial hardship to the now ostracised family. He took a court case against the local priest, but lost, and eventually emigrated. Brinsley became an author and playwright. He later married and was also a member of the Board of Directors at the Abbey Theatre, and Registrar of the National Gallery.

Would initial publicity in 1918 simply have faded away, with a wry response of `no comment’ from the locals? The court case merely added to publicity, and stoked both rage and public interest. For a considerable time afterwards, it was considered wise not to mention the book in Delvin.

However, in 2010 it featured in the local Book Fair, with a reading. Life and attitudes have moved on, of course. Such pettiness, meanness and vindictiveness could never exist to-day, in our tolerant times - or could they? Just check out some social media posts before answering that question!