A survivor speaks out about their sexual assault story, how consent is non-negotiable, and the guilt, shame, and fear that society instills in survivors.
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Students are putting on plays on a shoe-string budget for the first time. Read how it's done on page 9»
Do you hail from Cork? Do you care deeply about Higher Education funding? This could be for you.
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Have you always wanted to pretend you were in the cast of Friends? Drinking late night coffees on an always available sofa with your mates or rushing into the local coffee house for a quick coffee and a chat before you rush off to work or class. Well for the residents of Trinity Hall they no longer have to pretend, thanks to the JCR Cafe. The cafe officially opened for business on Monday March 10th and has already proved popular with the residents. Located at Trinity Halls, in Dartry, the cafe is a welcome addition to Halls life, providing its residents with a place to chat, relax, and get their morning fix of coffee. I popped in to try the coffee and chat with some of the JCR Committee about the space. When you enter the Halls canteen, what used to be empty space has been transformed into a cosy social area with sofas, a piano, a very popular pool table and a TV on its way. The space was previously only used for specific events such as prinks for club nights or the Welfare Breakfasts. Speaking with JCR Communications and Marketing Officer, Conor Batory, he explains, “It's great to have for club nights and stuff like that, but it's also really nice to have it for a more chilled out purpose as well, like a third space that students can come; it's not their flat and it's not
college, and they can come here and just relax and have a coffee with their friends.”
The JCR cafe has been in the works for nearly a year. At a Halls Dragon’s Den event, hosted by Trinity Entrepreneurial Society (TES), the current JCR president, Aibhe McBride, Tech officer Joseph
McKeon and Welfare Team member Katie McGee first pitched the idea of the JCR Cafe. The team won the Dragon’s Den event. When they took up their positions this year, they worked with the Trinity Hall warden, Nigel Stevenson, and various college staff to get the project on its feet. Speaking on the
logistics Taylor comments, “we didn't know whether it would pull through or not until Christmas was really the time where we were like, okay, we can make this happen properly.”
Before its official opening the JCR held a ‘Beans and Beats’ night to promote the new cafe. The event ran on February 27th and consisted of “chill beats from halls’ resident DJs” and free coffee. What more could you possibly want? The team reckons there were around 150 people at the cafe’s opening. JCR Secretary Mia Taylor said, “Yeah, the queue was out the door for the coffee, it was crazy! We had doughnuts, balloons, and music. We had said the first 50 coffees would be free but we ended up giving out free coffee all night.”
Speaking to the JCR about the new cafe, they noted that first-year students were particularly excited about the prospect of working at the cafe. The committee received over 70 applications for the job, actually having to close the applications early due to the amount of interest they received for the positions. JCR Communications officer Conor Batory stated that one of the team’s goals with the project was to provide employment opportunities for the first years at halls. With the JCR cafe the residents are able to gain experience and training to work in cafes without needing previous experience to get the job, something that is becoming increasingly rare.
The JCR Cafe staff were given full barista training for the role, which Batory notes, “it's something they can take with them so it's easier to find a job somewhere else next year, which is brilliant.”
As well as the third space the cafe is offering students, it also offers great prices. You can get a tea for €1.50 and a coffee (hot or iced) for between €2.50- €3. For now the cafe is just doing drinks, but the Halls shop and vending machines are just next door if people want to grab a sweet treat with their coffee.
The JCR Cafe is open Monday to Thursday 8 am-12 pm and 4 pm-8 pm and Friday 8 am-12 pm.
As we approach the halfway point of the current Provost’s tenure, it is important to put the previous Provosts in context of various criterion and achievements.
Using a calibrated mathematical AI model to classify answers, this quiz seeks to determine which Provost of Trinity College, Dublin you would be. If you do not like the Provost you were assigned, you may choose to retake the Quiz again.
Question 1 - As you value education highly, choose to seek one out. You find it sensible to study
a Bachelor of Engineering in Electrical Engineering - University College, Cork
b Doctor of Philosophy in Electrical Engineering - Trinity College, Dublin
c Master of Science in Electrical Engineering -Trinity College, Dublin
d Postgraduate Diploma in Statistics Trinity College, Dublin
Question 2 On your path to becoming Provost, you hold a wide range of jobs. The one that you loved the most is
a Director of CONNECT
b Dean of Research
c Professor of Engineering and the Arts
d Director of the Centre for Telecommunications Value-chain Research
Question 3 - when were you born?
a 1968
b nobody knows for sure, but it was 57 years ago
c míle, naoi gcéad seasca a hocht
d in the end of the 60s
Our Pick of Events Around Trinity This Week
Question 4 - where did you grow up
a County Cork
b The true Capital of Ireland
c The Southside (of Cork)
d 51• 52'45"N 29'31"W
Question 5 - In your long career, you’ve received many awards and accolades.
The one you are most proud of is
a Cork Person of the Month (2017)
b Fellow of Trinity College Dublin (2011)
c Member of the Royal Irish aAcademy (2022)
d Irish Tatler Women of the Year (2021)
Question 6 What is your favourite number?
a 45 because I was 45th Provost of Trinity College Dublin
b Too hard to pick one, because I am busy doing important things relating to the University
c 1 because was 1st female Provost of Trinity College Dublin
d 70 million because raised €70m in research funding for the college
Question 7 - What is your star sign?
a Aries b Aries c Aries
d Aries
Results
If you got mostly A: Provost Linda Doyle - salt of the earth, in touch with the common person in the college. You understand that people of different backgrounds are members of the college community, and are capable
of understanding the needs of all of them. The most common thing happens to be students.
If you got mostly B: Provost Linda Doyle. You understand that the college’s primary purpose is to conduct research, and having to deal with the book of Kells being closed makes the College mission impossible to fulfill. You wake up every morning regretting the state of higher education in this country, that makes you so reliant on Americans spending their money, both in tuition and ticket sales.
If you got mostly C:
Provost Linda Doyle In your circle, they know you as the shopaholic with maxed out credit cards. You wake up most days thinking, “Gosh, I really wish I had an extra €308 million lying around to plug the core funding gap in Irish Higher education. One can barely scrape by in Ireland with the revenue from the Book of Kells these days, what with the cost of SU protests and all that.” You always get all the add-ons with your avocado toast at brunch and don’t blink twice when paying.
If you got mostly D: Provost Linda Doyle You love making giant group chats with all your LERU and IUA buddies to organise an epic brunch with an extra serving of bodaciousness to secure research funding for non-military research.
Would you like to run for Hiking Society Committee, or vote for your candidate? Come along to socialise and meet other members, or even run for a committee position. The committee is a fun and welcoming group, organising weekly hikes and sea swims. Everyone is invited to Chaplin’s afterwards at 9PM for an afterparty to celebrate the new committee!
TUESDAY DR BJÖRN QUIRING: “MANY HORRID BLASPHEMIES AND DAMNABLE OPINIONS”: ABIEZER COPPE’S A FIERY FLYING ROLL, JONATHAN SWIFT THEATRE, ARTS BLOCK, 7:00 TO 8:00PM
The ongoing Literatures of Dissent: TCD School of English Evening Lectures 2025 invites you to immerse yourself in the world of literary dissent. With a new topic each week, this lecture series investigates the importance of literary revolutions and diverging behaviour. Tickets are available via Eventbrite and at the door if available. Tickets will be four euro for students and staff, and 5 euro for visitors.
WEDNESDAY
“WHY LINGUISTICS MAKES ONE A BETTER PERSON (AND MAKES THEM FEEL BETTER : A GENDERISED POINT OF VIEW ON ITALIAN,” AN EVENING LECTURE BY PROFESSOR GIULIANA GIUSTI OF CA’ FOSCARI UNIVERSITY OF VENICE, AB2041B, UÍ CHADHAIN THEATRE, 5:00 TO 7:00PM
Join Professor Giuliana Giusti to discuss the intricacies of the Italian language in regards to gendered terminology and expression. Giusti will dive into the interpretation of neutralized gender forms in Italian and the projection of the language as traditional gender binaries are challenged. Be sure to RSVP for this engaging lecture via the EventBrite link.
THURSDAY
“THIS HOUSE BELIEVES EVERYTHING IS ART,” THE UNIVERSITY PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY, GMB, 7:00PM
Join the Phil for their weekly debate centering around the eternal question of art and its purpose. Can everything be art if it’s viewed in the right way? Or are there only a select few creations which truly are art? Pop into the GMB this Thursday evening to hear all sides of the discussion and get a front row seat to one of the most highly anticipated Phil motions.
FRIDAY
DROP-IN MINDFULNESS, STUDENT COUNSELLING, LEINSTER STREET SOUTH 7-9, STUDENT COUNSELLING SERVICEGROUP ROOM FRIDAY MARCH 29, 10:00 TO 10:30AM
The Counselling Service welcomes you to drop in on a mindfulness session with no registration or preparation required. Simply arrive and take the time to be present and mindful alongside your peers. This guided mindfulness session will be sure to provide you with some calm and comfort amidst a busy time. 3
Caitlin Flores
There’s more to a night out in Dublin than grabbing a pint in the Pav or knocking back shots in Coppers.
Beneath the surface of this vibrant city lies a collection of hidden speakeasies, uniquely themed bars, and historically rich pubs, perfect for students who want an experience that goes beyond the usual pint.
Vintage Cocktail Club:
Hidden behind an unmarked door in Temple Bar, the Vintage Cocktail Club invites guests to step back into the glamour and decadence of the Roaring Twenties. Since opening in 2012, the softly illuminated rooms exude vintage charm, filled with art deco furnishings, velvet upholstery, and the romantic ambiance of flickering candle lights.
The menu pays homage to history, serving meticulously crafted classics such as the Martinez, Manhattan, French 75, and Sidecar, each recreated authentically using recipes that date back nearly a century. With vintage touches, including absinthe fountains and authentic recipe recreations, it provides not just drinks but an immersive historical experience, transporting you directly to the Golden Age of cocktails.
The Blind Pig:
Tucked away discreetly behind an unassuming entrance on Suffolk Street since its founding in 2011, The Blink Pig has earned its reputation as Ireland’s longest-running speakeasy. Its hidden doorway secured by a reservation-only policy transports guests directly into the clandestine glamour of the Prohibition era. Once inside, guests are enveloped by softly lit booths, vintage decor, and the warm tones of live jazz drifting through the air each night.
A throwback to the 1920s speakeasy culture, The Blind Pig specialises in classic prohibition cocktails such as the Old Fashioned and Negronis. Its exclusivity and attention to historical detail create a uniquely captivating experience, perfect for students who crave both intrigue and authenticity.
With each visit, guests feel part of a secret tradition, joining generations in savouring the exclusivity and historical mystique in Ireland’s longest-running speakeasy.
Fidelity: Nestled off Capel Street, Fidelity is Dublin's quintessential audiophile haven, a bar dedicated not only to expertly mixed cocktails but to an unparalleled appreciation of sound. Since its doors first opened in 2019, Fidelity has become an intimate retreat for students seeking an authentic experience beyond the usual bustle. Every evening, the bar spins carefully selected vinyl, enhancing the sensory experience with its state-of-the-art surround sound system. The drinks menu perfectly complements this, featuring not only craft cocktails but also local brews from Whiplash, a Dublin founded beer company. Fidelity is the ideal spot for a classy yet laid back evening, offering both musical immersion and a true appreciation for Dublin’s flourishing craft beer culture.
The Long Hall:
Stepping into The Long Hall feels like travelling back in time to the golden age of Dublin’s pub culture. Established in 1766, this Victorian-era gem on South Great George’s Street is one of the city’s oldest and most visually striking pubs. Ornate chandeliers, deep mahogany woodwork, and mirrored walls create an atmosphere
of timeless elegance, while the long wooden bar - after which it takes its name - has been a fixture for over two centuries.
Despite its historic grandeur, The Long Hall remains a favourite for students, locals, and even rockstars like Bruce Springsteen, who famously stopped in for a pint. Known for pouring one of the best pints of Guinness in Dublin, it maintains a dedication to tradition, with bartenders serving up classic Irish whiskeys, stouts, and simple yet well-poured drinks. With its warm lighting, vintage decor, and lively yet intimate atmosphere, The Long Hall stands as a testament to Dublin’s enduring pub culture, where history, conversation, and a perfectly settled pint come together in one unforgettable space. Doyle’s Pub: Doyle’s Pub, a staple for generations of Trinity students, is more than just another well-known watering hole.
Established in 1880, it was previously known as Dunphy’s Corner, with the name immortalised in
Ulysses and the ballad William Bailey.
In the mid 1890s, John Doyle took over and renamed it Doyle’s Pub.
The pub witnessed fierce fighting during the 1916 Easter Rising, as British forces fortified Trinity College, yet survived unscathed, continuing to serve Dubliners through the War of Independence and Civil War. For over a century, it has been a cornerstone of student life, offering a warm, traditional setting steeped in history. Still run by the Doyle family, Doyle’s remains a testament to Dublin’s resilience, where literature, rebellion, and student culture converge over a well-poured pint.
Chaplin’s Bar:
Located on Hawkins Street, Chaplin’s Bar is a family-run traditional Irish pub known for its cozy atmosphere and cinematic charm. Named after Charlie Chaplin, the pub pays tribute to its namesake with vintage movie posters. While there is no confirmed record of Chaplin visiting the bar, he did perform at the Theater Royal Hippodrome on the same street, cementing his connection to the area. With warm wooden interiors and an almost ecclesiastical feel, Chaplins is perfect for a well-poured pint, a pizza, or a quiet chat. Its multiple sections cater to casual gatherings, GAA matches, and private events, while the upstairs hosts Chaplin’s Comedy Club with lively stand-up acts. A true local favourite, Chaplin’s blends tradition, storytelling, and community, offering a relaxed space in the heart of Dublin.
The Workman’s Club:
Located on Wellington Quay, The Workman’s Club has been a cornerstone of Dublin’s cultural scene since opening its doors in 2010, but the building itself carries a much longer
history. Originally a gentlemen’s club, it was home to the Workingmen’s Club from 1888 to 2003, serving as a space for social gatherings and community activities. After standing vacant for several years, it was transformed into one of Dublin’s most beloved independent music venues, hosting a mix of live gigs, comedy nights, and literary events. The club has welcomed both local and international artists including acts like Future Islands, Anna Calvi, and Father John Misty, cementing its reputation as a cultural hub. In 2021, it was expanded with The Workman’s Cellar, a new performance space equipped with a state-of-the-art sound system. Blending its historical past with a thriving alternative nightlife scene, The Workman’s Club remains a go-to spot for students, musicians, and creatives looking for an intimate and diverse night out. Dublin’s nightlife is far more than just pints and packed clubs, it's a city brimming with hidden speakeasies, historic pubs, and uniquely themed bars that offer something for every student looking for a break from the usual routine. Whether it’s sipping a meticulously crafted cocktail in a Prohibition-style hideaway, stepping into a centuries-old pub steeped in history, or embracing the alternative music scene, the city offers a diverse range of experiences waiting to be discovered. Each venue tells its own story, making a night out in Dublin as much about the atmosphere and history as the drinks themselves. So, for those willing to venture beyond the familiar, Dublin’s rich and varied bar scene promises more than just a night out - it delivers an unforgettable experience.
“The
Améiie McGowan
“Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” -Margret Atwood
Before thirteen-year-old Jamie Miller stabs his fellow classmate Katie Leonard seven times, he’s rejected. A knife sitting in his pocket, Jamie takes Katie’s refusal to go to the fair with him as an opportunity to recompense. CCTV cameras capture the attack, and the following day the Miller’s front door is barged open, and we meet our protagonist: Jamie Miller. Thirty minutes later, we find Jamie sitting in the interrogation room. With the evidence stacked against Jamie the question, in Stephen Graham’s 2025 Netflix limited series, Adolescence, is not whodunnit, but rather who’s to blame?
Graham’s four-episode-long series places Jamie in the foreground of an increasingly leaking incel culture in Northern England. The language between him and his classmates, however, is recognisable to those outside of his town – a warning of barely concealed misogyny that Graham warns, is now universal, thanks to social media. The same rhetoric that could be found in the intersections of Dublin, just as often as in the classrooms of Atlanta.
The show follows the thirteen months post-Jamie’s arrest and travels from the briefing desk of the detectives to the graffitied car of Mr. Miller. We are introduced to Jamie immediately and then reconnect with him in the third episode, amid his final therapy session. Throughout his session with therapist Briony Ariston, Jamie’s insecurities emerge. We see a conflicted boy; one who has been both predator and prey. He seeks Briony’s approval and asks not once, not twice, but three times, whether she thinks him ugly or unlikable. He’s dragged out of the session by the security guard mid-outburst screaming, “What did you think about me? Don’t you even like me a bit?” His desperation is punctured by pre-pubescent voice cracks and tears in his eyes. He seeks justification between glances, “She was a bitch. Even you can see that.” Briony stares at the cheese sandwich Jamie bit out of when left in the empty room, and shudders. As a psychologist, she has determined her diagnosis. As a woman, she just saw a window into the future generation of increasingly radicalised men - and it’s terrifying.
His vulnerability functions like a switch– and just as easily can Jamie turn on the hurt he felt when bullied, he can turn it off. Or, at least a facade of stoicism. He emulates the same ‘alpha’ manosphere men he’s seen online; “Look
at ya. All hopeful, like I’m going to say something important.” He attempts to remove himself from the conversation, from the room, to reach higher ground. He wants to look down on Briony, to expect and dodge her questions, to be the kind of male ‘omniscient’ presence that Laura Bates discusses. But his age prevents it. His age is the crux of his internal conflict – he’s a divided self between a humiliated child and then men who know better. The men he’s seen on his computer, the men that case their emotions in violence.
When cornered, Jamie stands up. He yells as he attempts to overcompensate for his age, height, and generally fetal stature. He stands over Briony, who ‘can’t fucking tell’ him ‘when to sit down’, or smirks. “Did I scare you when shouted? I mean I’m only thirteen. I don’t think look that scary. How embarrassing is that? Getting scared of a thirteen-year-old?”
Jamie has no female friends. “I’m not gay,” he says, with a look of disgust. He bravados adult-like confidence: he brags about being shown topless photos of his schoolmates and his mature sexual experiences. But when asked whether or not he believes women find him attractive, Jamie answers, “Of course not.”
The manosphere is retributive. As demonstrated in Adolescence, and in the cases of previous men, Nathan Larson, Ben Moynihan, George Sodini, and other incels-turned-murderers who preempted Jamie. “You denied me a happy life, and in turn, I will deny all of you life. It’s only fair”, says twenty-two-year-old Elliot Rodger in his YouTube video titled ‘Elliot Rodger’s Retribution’. Women who deny “rightful” men sex, therefore deserve the punishment that follows. “The problem is not women having sex,” Laura Bates writes in ‘Men Who Hate Women: The Extremism Nobody is Talking About’, “but women having the choice of whom to have sex with”. According to Bates, control is central to their ideology. For many who join, it becomes a “feverish obsession with sex and anger at being ‘denied’ it”. She quotes Tim Squirrell, “[This culture] emphasises mockery and the externalisation of blame as the means by which one should cope with negative emotions.”
The blame falls on women, and men become the perpetual victims of a matriarchal system. Men who have been subjected to rejection again, and again, are incubated into the ideology that the system is forced against them. They are perpetual “virgins” as the comments in Jamie’s Instagram write. Women are innately subordinate, evil beings who deserve what they get. But the initial rhetoric, that of gym content, or Andrew Tate’s ‘Tate-
cast’, doesn’t immediately raise flags. It’s a gradual sinking ship, one that facades itself with “Looksmaxing” tutorials, “bops”, and other colloquial terms that denigrate women. “Online communities and virtual platforms provide the means for these ideas to take shape, take hold and spread” Dr. Lisa Sugiura writes.
“We couldn’t have known” Mrs. Miller says to her husband. Markers weren’t clear to Jamie’s parents. To them, he was a quiet kid, not skilled at “footy”, who stayed fixed to his computer in his room. The turnover rate of microtrends and more benign incel terminology are hard to follow for those who didn’t grow up glued to a phone. For many parents, it’s hard to tell whether your child is addicted to Call of Duty, or going down subreddit rabbit holes.
the same one weaponised against Jamie in his comment section, is pervasive, is in the classrooms, and is now part of this generation's tongue.
But for us, as the audience watching Adolescence, Jamie’s deprivation is unequivocally clear. As many young teens do, he attempts to categorise himself within the social ring ladder– only his ladder is more akin to a web, stapled together with the voices of ‘red-pilled’ incels. He spends the first three episodes in denial, (as externalized blame is key to the incel identity), “I could have touched any part of her body…but I didn't. Most boys would've touched her. So that makes me better.”
He consistently tries to weave himself into the rigidly fixed incel hierarchy of ‘Chads’, ‘Becky’s’ and ‘Stacey’s’.
He deflects when cornered, with the same “sarcasm and deliberate provocation” that Bates pronounces. He boards himself with sarcastic artillery against his own emotions. But if Jamie, as he claims, only absorbed this ideology through osmosis, then the water must be pretty high. Graham almost argues that this language,
But the language isn’t always neatly translated between the older and younger generations, between parents and kids. In an attempt to find logic behind Jamie’s behavior, his parents play a blame game; ‘He never left his room,” Mrs. Miller says in the final episode, “I’d see the light on at one o’clock in the morning.” To which Mr. Miller replies, “We couldn’t do nothing about that. All kids are like that these days, aren’t they?”
“It’s not our fault, we can’t blame ourselves.”
“But we made him, didn’t we?” After all, “he was in his room…I mean, what harm can he do in there”’ In this media age, cults of the churches and Woodstock yards are of the past. They now appear in our hands, on our phones, discreetly recruiting the most isolated.
The sad fact is, while they could have likely been more perceptive, Jamie’s ultimate outburst was catalyzed by a monster of its own. One that even Jamie’s father tries to reconcile, “he [Jamie] could have been watching anything…look at that fella that popped up on my phone, going on about how to treat women, how men should be men, and all that shit. I was only looking for something for the gym, weren’t I?” Pipelines between the masculine ends of the internet, between gym content and alt-right data forms, that Bates noticed showed “no evidence” of “effective external policing or monitoring”, pervades even the more benign content. As Detective Bascombe’s son explains, “everything has a meaning”, even emojis in the comment sections of thirteen-year-old boys. So while the Millers should admit to some of the responsibility, any teenage boy living in the UK, Ireland, or abroad, is predisposed to the same fate as Jamie. Of peer pressure, or liking the wrong video once on an explore page. Of making the mistake that any child who hasn’t yet developed a frontal lobe might fall prey to. So many of us, amid polarisation, are grieving the loss of those around us. We grieve those who have become radicalised into a new persona. Those whose faces blur with rhetorics spewed by subreddits and Fox News stories. Those who might have wandered down the wrong rabbit hole, and never resurfaced. “How did we make her [Jamie’s sister]?” Mr. Miller asks Mrs. Miller, to which she replies, “The same way we made him.”
“If
Beth Strahan, Trinity alumni and co-founder of Ablaze Productions about the company’s newest play.
Festival in August.
Ablaze Productions, founded by Trinity alumni; Beth Strahan, Íde Simpson and Megan Doherty is a new theatre company focusing on new work and female-led stories.
Their first play, Cailíní, played to sold out audiences at the Lyric Theatre, Belfast. In anticipation of their new production, Double Down, I sat down with Strahan to discuss all things Ablaze and her journey from playing a duckling in her local theatre group to directing her second professional production.
Strahan studied Drama and Theatre studies in college, and was initially focused on the performance side of theatre. Strahan explains, “I came into the course as a performer, as an actor, and that's the route that I wanted to go down. But the course was so varied and you're exposed to all elements of production, which I really commend the course for, and I realised that I loved directing.” Strahan made her directorial debut directing the Trinity Hall musical, Legally Blonde, in 2022, and went on to direct the Trinity Musical Theatre show, Sweet Charity the following year.
Strahan got her start in theatre with her local musical theatre group’s production of Honk! The Musical, so it is only fitting that her directing experience began the same way. Strahan notes, “Musical theatre has been a huge part of my life. It's why I picked my degree. I was very lucky in the fact that I could take a hobby to a degree level, and yeah, musical theatre is something that I am such a strong advocate for.”
It was in the final year of the trio's studies that Ablaze was born. They collaborated on their final year project to create Cailíní, a devised piece that explored familial relationships, specifically the complicated relationships between a group of sisters. Strahan describes the collaborative process; “It was really exciting and knew that I didn't want to leave it at that. What we had in that rehearsal room was so unique and the crossover between production team and cast, it was so respectful. Communication was at the forefront of everything that we did, and it was just a really exciting kind of process.”
The production debuted at the
Samuel Beckett Theatre in November, and then transferred to the Lyric in May. It was when the production was transferring to the Lyric that the group decided they had to create a name and identity for themselves as up-and-coming artists. Strahan explains, “We realised that in an industry that is, well, was on its knees during COVID and is only now starting to get back to what it was pre-COVID, and has limited funding opportunities, if we want work, we have to create it ourselves. So that's kind of why we created Ablaze. And this name, Ablaze, came about as it just really encapsulates our ethos of new, exciting writing, and being in a rehearsal room, having the spark and working off of it.”
The company’s debut production, Cailíní was placed in the Top Ten Northern Irish Theatre Highlights in the British Theatre Guide. Strahan notes that the move to the Lyric was also “the first time that we as producers of Ablaze were paying our creatives, paying ourselves.”
When talking about their expe-
rience with seeking funding in the arts Strahan describes the arts scene as a “world of very limited funding.” Strahan continues, “It is a struggle and we have had many rejections and I think that's feedback that would give to the course, I don't think there is enough focus on the actual skill that is writing an application. For us, it's been learning on our feet.” Their upcoming production Double Down was commissioned by Droichead Arts Centre and the Arts Council Ireland, and is co-written by Íde Simpson and Aoife Cronin. The pair are studying playwriting together at the Lir Academy this year after graduating from Drama and Theatre Studies last year. Strahan explains that when Ablaze received the commission, “we knew that we wanted to collaborate with Aoife.” Cronin’s capstone Uncanny Valley debuted the week after Ablaze’s Cailíní and went on to play at Edinburgh Fringe
Strahan notes, “we always admired Aoife. Her writing is very different to the kind of naturalism that Cailíní was rooted in. Aoife is always looking at the surreal and questioning what's real and what's false and that really interested me as a director. It's challenging me right now with Double Down, as the play dips in and out of the dream world and as a director, leading rehearsals, there's always this question of, is this real?”
Double Down centres around protagonist, John, and his complex relationships with his wife and daughter. Speaking about the work, Strahan confesses, “I love families. I think that historically the Irish home has always been the focal point of the Irish stage.”
However, while their production centres around the home, Strahan wants to challenge ideas of women
in the domestic sphere; “We give women these really loud powerful voices on stage, I think that's really interesting and Double Down looks at that as well.”
Discussing what is next for the theatre company, and as a Northerner myself, I couldn’t help but wonder (hope) if Belfast born Strahan and Simpson would ever be tempted to set their work in the North. Strahan replied, “Íde and as a duo work very well because she is the writer and I'm the director so anything that she writes want to get my hands on. Kind of anything that Íde writes there's a Northern voice in there and it's not it's not obvious at times but I think that background always kind of infiltrates her work. So short answer, yes, I would love to.” Whatever is next for the theatre company they are definitely ones to watch.
Khashabi, the Haifa-based Palestinian theatre company have partnered with the Abbey Theatre to bring MILK ك مto Dublin. The powerful visual experience uses dance and movement to express the loss and despair felt in the aftermath of disaster. The play is a collaboration by director and playwright, Bashar Murkus and dramaturg, Khulood Basel. Together they manage Khashabi Theatre in Haifa, which was co-founded with a group of Palestinian theatre makers. Frequent collaborators, the pair specialises in creating original work that strives to combine political issues with a human element, foregrounding culture. The female led production opens with an ensemble of women grieving the loss of their adult children, and their motherhood, as they rock and console mannequins in their arms. The mannequins, covered in holes, serve as a reminder throughout the play of what is lost. However, it is the people who are left behind, and often forgotten about, that is the key focus of the production. The production touches on how women are often left out of the representation of war, as the mannequins are used to block the women out of a family portrait.
With no dialogue the performance relies on the power of movement to convey the complex emotions of the piece. The cast remain cohesive and strong from beginning to end in this eighty minute, physically demanding, ensemble piece. The image of lost motherhood propels the piece forward. Tabloids of women cooing and reassuring
absent loved ones are repeated throughout the performance as the women reminisce and grieve for their families. Grieving motherhood manifests itself in the outpouring of breast milk which floods the Abbey’s stage. The flooded stage adds another layer to the dance in the second half of the play which is coupled with the birth of the play’s son, played by the superb Eddie Dow. Dow’s performance begins with his birth and his mothers death. The particularly moving scene depicts the mother giving birth alone in the rubble as Dow emerges still attached to his dead mother by an umbilical cord. As the child tries to move and grow he is pulled back by the umbilical cord and slips on the soaked Abbey stage - a stark reminder of the children suffering. A true highlight is the original score by Raymond Haddad that beautifully mirrors the emotion of the actors and builds and opti-
mises silences. The piano’s single repeated note ringing across the empty stage was a powerful opening, truly the calm before the storm. The play is visually stunning, with technical and lighting design by Muaz Al Jubeh. The set seems minimal when the play opens to an almost bare stage. However the grey slabs that create the stage floor are gradually ripped up and strewn about the stage. By the end of the play the grey slabs that once were the foundation of the stage,
are stacked haphazardly on top of each other, to create the striking image of a city left in ruin. MILK ك م premiered at Khashabi Theatre in 2022. Speaking on their production the pair note, “Three years ago, we thought we had succeeded in MILK ك مin creating a theatrical poem about what wars leave behind. But over the past three years, as “real wars” have crushed people before our eyes and stolen everything they love, we have come to realise how incapable theatre is of capturing
even a single moment of war.” This may be, however, the final image of the women lying in the rubble, has a new resonance following Israel's destruction of Gaza. And as the women definitely stare out at the audience, we are reminded that we must not look away. MILK ك م has toured from Haifa to the Venice Biennale to the Festival d’Avignon and now Dublin. The production is bound for London next year. The production ran from 20th Febuary - March 1st at The Abbey Theatre, main stage.
The Glass House
Rachel Donohue
BONNIER BOOKS LTD
Award-winning author Rachel Donohue’s most recent novel is a literary thriller that follows two sisters haunted by the secrets left behind by their deceased father, a philosopher with Nazi sympathies. Spanning landscapes of the West of Ireland, to cosmopolitan cities such as London, Florence, and Dublin, the novel explores themes of family secrets and ideology. Donohue explores the idea of recurrence, and the dangerous narratives that resurface time and again. West, who has her PhD in sexuality studies, brings an investigative humanity to the book and weaves a well-researched and poignant tale that sheds light on an often forgotten part of Dublin’s history.
The Boy From the Sea Garrett Carr
SCRIBNI UK
O’Donnell’s debut about starting over, motherhood, and resilience. The novel examines the consequences of Dublin’s housing market through the lens of a mother fleeing an abusive marriage with her children. O’Donnell, who has previously published short stories, writes with heart-wrenching emotion and a strong narrative voice, making Nesting a relevant and harrowing read.
Confessions
Catherine Airey
ATLANTIC BOOKS
Catherine Airey’s debut novel follows three generations of women from rural Ireland to New York City. Opening with a dramatic scene in New York in 2001, the settings throughout the novel play a vital role, shaping the story beyond mere backdrops. With references of Gossip Girl and Catcher in the Rye, the novel feels contemporary yet tackles timeless themes of familial conflicts of love and tragedy.
Abdallah Abusamra is a 26-year-old writer, teacher, and communications specialist from Gaza, Occupied Palestine.
Abusamara holds a BA in English Literature from the Islamic University of Gaza and is currently pursuing an MPhil in Applied Intercultural Communication at Trinity College Dublin on a scholarship from the BDS encampment. The poet has contributed journalistic pieces to We Are Not Numbers and Mondoweiss, taught advanced communication courses at Oxford English Centre, Gaza’s leading IELTS training provider, and delivered capacity-building workshops for governmental, INGO, and UN agency projects in Gaza.
Is léir nach bhfuil sean-scéal an ghrá caite go fóill orainn, a chairde. Cinnte, tugann ceoldráma nua an Chumann Ghaelaigh radharc úr-nua dúinn ar ghrá atá ceolmhar, casta, agus ábhairín ciotach. Seo scéal Caoimhe (Elsie Doyle) agus Dáithí (Joe Woulfe), lánúin óg ar tí chleamnais. Caithfear a rá go bhfuil an dá aisteoir seo an-láidir ar fad sna páirteanna acu. Buailtear le mhór-chlann Dháithí, bailiúchán álainn den mháthair, sean-mháthair, aintíní, sagart, agus, gan amhras, an t-iar-chailín! Glactar le Caoimhe mar chuid den chorr-chlann seo ar deireadh, ach ní go dtí go scaoileann an bhean óg le droch-chuimhní aici ar an tsaol.
Tá Cathal Ó Mhurchú - scríbhneoir, ceoltóir, agus stiúrthóir an cheoldrá-
“It’s Weird to Have People in my Brain”: Members of DU Players on Showcasing their First Productions
Emma Rouine
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have your writing on stage? To have words that were originally just sitting on your Google Doc or scribbled into the comfort of your journal for “your eyes only” to be taken out of this space and recited by actors in a public setting? Holly, Rhian, and Fiona are all experiencing this as their debut plays take to the DU Players’ stage in the next few weeks.
Holly O’Connor is a first-year film student whose play Virginity Rocks is set in an abstinence camp. She describes the play as “thriller and comedic” and adds, “there's this ax murderer in the woods of the camp that murders any of the campers that are intimate with one another.” She says that the idea first transpired from a StarKids production, an American theatre company that produced a play during COVID called “Abstinence Camp.”
Rhian Gregan is a second-year Drama and Film student, he labels his play, First Dates, as a “comedy with an underlinement of seriousness about it.” He adds, “First dates is a play about a first date in real time, and it is a bit strange. It's a bit strange queer, if you might say. And as the day goes on, it kind of goes off the rails, it's really about gay dating, and what it's like dating in the gay community, the highs and the lows of it all.”
Fiona Murray is a third-year Ancient History and Hispanic student
and describes that her play, IOU, is all about giving “platonic love a space on stage” which she says has not seen enough representation in the media. The play revolves around two girls, “Florence and Jade, who've been friends for like, 17 years. And essentially they're kind of at a point in their lives where they're changing ... how they're becoming different people, and how that's affecting their friendship.”
In deciding to write and produce a play, Rhian refers to his time on the Players’ committee as Basement Manager as well as his involvement as Stage Manager and Publicist for other people’s shows over the last two years. He says that last summer was the first opportunity he had to write a play.
Previous to this, he says “I never really sat down and was like, Oh, this is something you can do. Even though was really interested in drama, always saw myself as a performer. So during summer, I had free time, and then had this idea of, like a first date play, and then one day I just sat down, I started writing it.”
Similar to Rhian, Fiona recalls her experience within Players’ as Chair of the society as well as her experience as Crew member with multiple Players’ plays as an encouragement to put forward her play. Fiona says, “I think I was a bit scared of directing, because I hadn't done drama in so long.
So I was like, Oh, let me see other people do it. Let me kind of get a feel for it. So I started doing lots of crew stuff…. But then I decided. It's my chance to be direct something, try something I've never done before, be on the other side, be the kind of vision of the show.”
However, it's important to distinguish that it is not just people with specific experience within Players’ who get their plays featured. Holly’s experience is a testament to this. She acknowledges, “we didn't know whether we'd get accepted or not, because, you know, have never done a Player’s show before, and I don't have a lot of experience, but we were trying our best, and we did get submitted. So I was very, very grateful.”
Along with the process of writing and directing the play, there is also the pressure of securing a crew before submission. Holly says that when she came up with the idea of submitting the play, she asked her friend Na Nguyen to co-direct, saying, “I definitely would not have been able to put it on without her […] Na really helped with that, because she knows a lot of people and Players. So she was able to gather all these people that she knew had experience”.
ma tar éis buille mór a leagan ar son drámaíocht na Gaeilge i gColáiste na Tríonoide le ‘Leigheas ar na nGrá ach Damhsa’, ceoldráma uathúil atá greannmhar agus gleoite. Ó thús go deireadh an tseó, is léir an stiúr suntasach atá aige agus ag a cheoil féin-chumtha ar a tharlaíonn ar an stáitse. Tá meán faighte anseo aige, le dóthain spiorad agus brí, inar féidir scéal a insint agus gur cuma cén teanga ina bhfuil sé – is ana-éacht é seo. Caithfear ard-mholadh a thabhairt go Muireann Carey agus Tara Ní Bhroinn a bhí i bhfeighil ar chóiréagrafaíocht. Tugadh deis don rince bheith mar mhórchuid de chur chun cinn na gcarachtar agus an scéil. Dhein Stella Cullen Browne sár-jab ar na gcultacha freisin.
I measc na n-aisteoirí, sheas Elsie Doyle (Caoimhe) agus Anna Morris (An t-IarChailín) amach ach go háirithe mar chailíní a bhí ar an dá thaobh den ghrá. Áfach, tugfaí ard-mholadh don chriú óg ina iomláine, ina measc Dara Ní Dhochartaigh Madrigal, Robyn Coughlan, Hannah Nic Eindrí, Rian Breathnach, Ursula Ní Fhiaich, Dearbhla Sacoman agus Eilín Ní Riain. Bhí nádúrthacht breá sa chaidreamh eatarthu ar fad ar an stáitse, más rince, canadh nó comhrá a bhí ann. Is ceoldráma den scoth é ‘Leigheas ar na nGrá ach Damhsa’, a nascann ceol, sár-samhlaíocht, agus an Gaeilge go fuirist agus i mbealach tarraingteach don lucht fhéachana. Beifear ag súil leis an ndrámadóir óg seo, Cathal Ó Mhurchú, a fheiscint arís gan mhoill!
They each describe the numerous roles that make up the play’s crew from publicity to dramaturg, who Rhian describes as “another eye, to make sure the story makes sense for the audience.” Fiona said she has a crew of about 20 people, “before the submission even goes through, you need to make sure you have that team, because it's such a short period of time we have to put on a show.”
In explaining the little time they have, Fiona said to me at the time of the interview that she had just cast her show with the show’s first date less than three weeks away.
Holly describes the community found within the crew, “it's all kind of like a bonding experience, because we're all in it together.”
On showcasing their art, Holly shows her excitement at the opportunity, “I find it so exciting, writing these stories and then seeing them come to life on stage […] especially because it's gonna be my debut of something I've written coming to life.” She adds, “it's almost nice, in a way to know that people do appreciate my writing and it gives me some sort of confidence because the industry I’m going into is quite hard.”
Fiona says, “I think I'm excited. I'm a bit nervous, obviously, because think people can judge people's work. I think that's one thing about theater.
It's quite a vulnerable thing. So it's always, how are people going to take this?”
Nevertheless, she adds, “I'm excited to kind of see how people take the characters, because, in my head, I have them kind of seen as a certain way from the people in my life slightly. They're kind of skewed a little bit… when it's another performer in those shoes, I think that's going to change that perspective of that character a bit and take that away slightly, but they'll also still be the sprinkles of, like, what I've imagined for those characters.”
Rhian also showcases his mixture of nervousness and excitement saying, “It feels weird to have people in my brain… like walking around in my brain and getting to see what I'm thinking about as it feels so personal to me. But it's also like, I'm ready to share this and put something out there.” He reflects on how close the play is to him describing that “it's such a constant thing in my life, since summer, like, nearly, a whole year of my life, writing this play, to actually eventually put it up, is such a great, crazy opportunity.”
Virginity Rocks will take the players stage in Week 10 from Monday the 24th to Saturday the 29th at 1 pm, followed by First Dates at 7 pm. IOU takes to the stage in Week 11 from Monday the 31st to Saturday the 5th at 1 pm. Make sure to follow @duplayers on Instagram for details on tickets.
For over two decades, fans have watched Bridget Jones prosper, fail and try again. Last month with the release of Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy (Michael Morris, 2025) we said goodbye to the beloved heroine and her relatable mischief.
Helen Fielding first created Bridget Jones as a satire of contemporary women's obsession with romance and social standards. Over the years, Bridget Jones (Renée Zellweger) has grown to feel less like a caricature and more like a comforting friend that audiences can laugh with about our shared embarrassments and insecurities.
Bridget Jones has always been chaotically charming and never the ideal rom-com heroine. However, her many flaws and imperfections are what endeared generations of women to this character and what makes this final film so bittersweet.
Throughout the years we have witnessed Bridget Jones's persistent and optimistic spirit.
She is bubbly, relatable and quick to make a self-deprecating joke.
Bridget often says the wrong thing and sometimes makes the wrong decisions. She struggles to value herself and that is why the most important love story in this series is Bridget Jones’s journey to loving herself.
The first film in the series, Bridget Jones’s Diary (Sharon Maguire, 2001), was released before I was born and yet I feel as though I
have grown up with these films. Despite being based on a series of novels that began in the ‘90s, author Helen Fielding has recently stated that at her book signings “half the audience are Gen Zs”. Bridget Jones has managed to stay the charming mess that is loved by many for decades.
From the black and white screwball comedies of the ‘30 and ‘40s to the feel good aspirational flicks of the ‘90s, the rom-com has maintained popularity through decades of cinema. The romcom is known for its predictable storylines and reliable happy endings. While this genre can be traced back to Shakespearean and Austenian literature, the golden age of the Hollywood rom-com is often considered the ‘90s. The heroines in these films tended to fall under certain tropes such as the beautiful, quirky girl next door usually played by Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts as the irresistible cool girl. The typical romantic comedy, like the majority of Hollywood films, tended to promote an aspirational lifestyle. The heroines of these films were just regular enough to appear potentially relatable but beautiful and smart enough to be unattainable. They have a great apartment, a great job and a best friend who exists solely to praise them. Additionally, despite their successful professional lives they tended to uphold conservative values and spend the majority of the movie yearning to get married and have kids.
Bridget Jones shares some of these qualities. She repeatedly wishes for a husband and a family and despite facing a career change mid-way through the first film, she never seems to struggle financially. She has a great friend group and a fun London lifestyle. However, Bridget, while still played by a beautiful Hollywood actress, was totally chaotic and laughably relatable in a way that made her feel more genuine than the stock heroines that the genre tended to depict. She never hid her bad habits and often found herself in embarrassing situations. Bridget externalised the imperfections that Hollywood generally told us to hide.
While Bridget’s constant and unnecessary obsession with her weight has not aged well in the context of today’s body positivity movement, her concerns about her appearance are realistic. Even though society and beauty standards have changed since the film's 2001 release, the internal pressures and external stresses to look a certain way remains prevalent in our contemporary culture.
The first film in the series, Bridget Jones’s Diary introduced us to the world of single 32-year-old Bridget Jones. As described by the film’s tagline Bridget Jones is “Uncensored. Uninhibited. Unmarried.” This film follows Bridget’s attempts to change her life by quitting smoking and drinking, losing weight and finding her “Mr Right”. During the film Bridget engages in a shortlived affair with her womanising boss Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant), becomes a television reporter, reexamines her feelings for the previously arrogant Mark Darcy (Colin Firth) and discovers her self-worth.
Bridget Jones is easy to root for and American actress Renée Zellweger is fantastically believable as the British heroine, contributing a large amount of the charm that the film conveys. Additionally, there is undoubtedly a nostalgia factor which influences the joy and humour that this movie never fails to deliver. The
When Flow won the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature Film, beating the likes of Inside Out 2 and The Wild Robot with its budget of three and a half million dollars, it was a win for independent film everywhere. Flow proved that Hollywood’s hegemony over animation is not unyielding and that it is possible to push creative boundaries with small-scale production, focusing on impression rather than detail to tell an impactful story. The mastermind behind Flow is 30-year-old Latvian filmmaker Gints Zilbalodis, whose unconventional approach to filmmaking has finally paid off on the world stage. His first feature-length animation Away (2019) he wrote, animated, and produced himself, a feat rarely accomplished. To make Flow, he sought to expand his horizons and took on a small team of Latvian animators while remaining deeply involved in all aspects of the filmmaking process, from writing the script to composing the soundtrack.
animals and skillfully uses body language and behaviour to express ideas in lieu of dialogue. The lack of dialogue does not make the film silent. If anything, it makes every sound more audible and every movement more intentional.
first film is fun and escapist but also reminds us that adulthood is not perfect, a recurring message in this series.
By the third film Bridget Jones’s Baby (Sharon Maguire, 2016), Bridget has achieved it all, in terms of the rom-com standard of happiness. She is married to Mark Darcy and they have begun their family. However, the fourth and final film Bridget Jones: Mad About The Boy, shows audiences that even in the rom-com world a perfect life is not guaranteed. This series is built upon showing us what happens after the happy ending.
While the film salways feature a romantic plot, the narrative reminds us that this story is about Bridget and her journey of self-discovery. At the beginning of every movie in the series Bridget is always single. Her character development and personal growth is at the heart of this story. Neither life nor Bridget will ever be perfect but we are reminded that we must keep living and growing regardless of the obstacles we encounter.
Mad About the Boy opens a few years after Mark Darcy’s death.
Once again our heroine is single, this time as a widowed mother. Throughout the film Bridget goes through one last journey of self-discovery and self-reliance. We witness how Bridget manages to function in Darcy’s absence, learning to find joy in the world while accommodating her grief.
Returning to work, managing her two young children and falling in love again. The film is an emotional journey, particularly for fans of the Bridget Jones series. The film pairs laughs and tears in a well-constructed goodbye to the iconic heroine. An unexpected highlight of the film is the genuine friendship that Bridget and Daniel have formed years after their failed romance and the supportive community that Bridget has built over the years. This film considers the fans of the series with references to the previous movies in the form of reindeer jumpers, oversized knickers, and sheer shirts. Nevertheless, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy does not feel like a cash grab opportunity for studios to profit off of fans of the series. This film feels like a genuine and heartfelt goodbye to a character that has been loved by many. Helen Fielding respects Bridget Jones and this movie told me that she also respects those who have followed Bridget on this journey. The Bridget Jones films remind us to know our worth, never to give up and remember that, in the real world, there is no happy ending, but there can be a happy life as long as we work every day to build it for ourselves. This final film is about learning to live when we have found ourselves confronted by life’s hardest challenges and simply surviving.
Zilbalodis has recognised how the film reflects this experience: Flow is not only a physical journey through an unknown landscape but also a personal journey to self-discovery. It follows a cat as it traverses vast expanses of nature and is forced to band together with other outcasts to survive ever-rising water levels. Its cast of characters is composed entirely of
With Flow, Zilbalodis abandoned the industry-standard animation software used in Away and opted for Blender, which is both free and open-source, encouraging other animators to follow his lead. Flow does not aim for perfection and a polished look but leaves in those imperfections that betray the computer-generated imagery to reveal how it was crafted by human
hands. It does not look unfinished, but it invites the viewer to participate in the creative process of animation as the scenes unfold. Remaining committed to a low budget and creative experimentation, the film used no storyboards. Normally, storyboards visualise the script and serve as a guide for the animators to make the scenes come to life. As he has explained in interviews, Zilbalodis would instead create rough models of the environment and explore them until he found the right camera angles, thus bypassing the stepby-step model of telling the story and, in a sense, letting everything
happen all at once. The camera explores the environment alongside the cat, and Zilbalodis, leaving the viewer with the sense that they are uncovering the story in real time. The story unfurls intuitively – after all, this is the first time both you the viewer and the cat are experiencing it. The use of animal characters also allows the film more creative freedom to infuse the camera with a dynamism that would otherwise feel unnatural. This gives Flow an almost video-game-like quality, where the story pulls you in from the perspective of a playable character.
Connoisseurs of cat-related media will recall the 2022 video game Stray developed by BlueTwelve Studio and marketed as an adventure game set in a post-apocalyptic, cyberpunk-like world. Stray, like Flow, follows a cat that is forced to embark on a journey for its own survival, meeting characters and making friends along the way. Central to both is a journey, a path to self-discovery, and the adventurous qualities of Flow is what makes it feel like a video game. Stray has a clear end goal: to escape a walled-off city and return to the outside world. Flow is more open-ended, but it is still framed as an adventure with a set goal, even if that goal is not explicitly revealed to the viewer.
In Flow, mirror images follow the cat and serve as introspective breaks in the story, allowing time for self-reflection. Comparing the opening and closing scenes of the film where the cat sees itself (and its friends) staring back from a puddle of water reveals the growth we have all experienced watching the film. The recurring reflective surfaces make the film feel deeply personal but also invite us to collectively examine ourselves and our role on this planet. What stalks in the background of both Flow and Stray are memories of disaster and societal collapse. In Stray, the player seeks to piece together the city’s backstory to understand what happened before the game began. The only remnants of humans are
the memories downloaded into a small robot called B-12 which helps the player in this task, but they are detached from their corporeal form and fragmented. Flow takes a much more go-withthe-flow approach and chooses to leave the backstory and our role in it unexplained, but it is not difficult to draw conclusions from the combination of the lack of a human presence and the threat of natural disasters. In Stray, nature exists as something just out of reach but which occasionally intrudes on the built environment. In Flow, conversely, the built environment appears only sporadically and traces of human civilization are dotted across the landscape, but they do not fit together to form a coherent past. In the beginning, we see the cat enter the window of what appears to be a human cottage overgrown and abandoned. Later, a boat journey sees the group of animals pass by the magnificent remnants of an ancient empire. The imagined past of Flow lends it a mysterious and inexplicable element. In this way, Flow succeeds in breaking out of the constraints of its environment and transcending it, utilising only the most integral parts of it to move the story forward. Water is infused into every aspect of the story and gains a life of its own as it continually transforms itself to express various shades of beauty and terror. Flow is experimental, not in the sense of being difficult to follow, but in emphasising impression. Zilbalodis has claimed in interviews that the lack of detail in the world-building was intentional to shift the focus to the animals. The genius of Flow lies in using a non-human animal and a natural element to express universal ideas about both personal and collective fears and desires. The animals are given human qualities but retain the quirks that make them endearing to us. They are sometimes vain, searching for instant gratification. At other times they express the pure kind of affection that only animals are capable of. In both Stray and Flow, the player/viewer is invited to feel a sense of responsibility for the cat and to protect it from the larger forces at play. The low vantage point of the small cat is juxtaposed with the immense natural world to reveal our insignificance. But the cat’s successful adaption to a situation that has spiralled beyond its own control also leaves viewers with a sense of hope, and what feels like dejection turns into acceptance in the end.
Award-winning Belfast-born writer Maria Fusco has never been one to adhere to boundaries—whether literary, cinematic, or disciplinary.
In conversation with Clara Potts, Fusco delves into her recent contribution to In the Good Seats: Essays on Film, her thought-provoking current exhibition, History of the Present, and the vibrant experimentation that defines her artistic practice.
Now based in Scotland as a Professor of Interdisciplinary Writing at the University of Dundee, Fusco is renowned for a protean body of work that seamlessly blends theoretical rigour with creative daring. Across eight critically acclaimed books and four ambitious performances translated into ten languages, Fusco consistently explores intersectional socio-economic realities through innovative narrative forms. Her latest works—History of the Present, an avant-garde opera film confronting Belfast’s legacy of defensive architecture co-directed with artist Margaret Salmon and featuring new music by Annea Lockwood, and the provocative lyric essay collection Who does not envy with us is against us, which examines working-class identity as method (both 2023)—exemplify Fusco’s bold, multifaceted artistic practice.
Clara: Your current exhibition, History of the Present, weaves together text, sound, and moving image in a way that feels both rigorous and deeply sensorial.
Given your longstanding interest in the politics of voice and narration, how did you approach the interplay between these different mediums?
Maria: Many of the materials on show are research materials from the making of History of the Present, the photographic installation are images made by co-director Margaret Salmon. There is some further sonic archive situated in the hall, which are procedural phrases edited from the recordings we made during production phases, such as recordings of us with the composer, Annea Lockwood, listening to and through her initial field recordings made of the Ardoyne peacelines I grew up beside. These recordings unpack a way of us communicating, of working through problems, the banal "watch your finger" to expose our working process: this feels important from a feminist point of view, to not conceal, to be clear.
There are other materials included, personal items from mine and
Margaret's lives, things which might be seen as being leftover or waste items (for example Margaret brought the red head of a tube of toothpaste), and I brought an old measuring tape. The object items in the lower gallery space (a paper rack, an overturned bookcase, a lightbox, lampshade skeletons) are all from Craftworld, which is what the building used to be before it became a gallery. I used to visit Craftworld when was a child to look at stuff and dream of making, so it was important to me to include physical traces of that place's history in a way that transforms them into something like portals.
Clara: Your writing often dismantles traditional narrative structures, experimenting with rhythm, syntax, and form. How did this literary sensibility shape the spatial and material decisions in the exhibition?
Maria: Experimental syntax, if I can phrase it like that, is always with me. I tend towards retaining my own remembered phrasing as a counterpoint to perceived 'correctness'; this way of going about things is inscribed across all of my work, whichever form am working in, and maybe it is an expression of "working-class-ness as method", which I propose in my book of essays Who does not envy with us is against us.
Clara: Collaboration seems integral to your practice, from working with sound artists to engaging with the politics of collective authorship. How did collaboration manifest in History of the Present, and were there any unexpected creative tensions or breakthroughs along the way?
Maria: Actually most of my work is made alone. But when I do collaborate, find it immersive. It's important to remember that this exhibition is made in collaboration with Margaret and that the final form is a cooperation between us that happened in the space (carrying cabinets, taping images, negotiating. So then, when I collaborate, it is with people who are specialist in their fields (for example, Margaret is a highly esteemed artist and filmmaker,) so must learn each time how to communicate with them precisely, respectfully and without compromise. This is as close to a defined literary sensibility as I would like to get. am, after all, an interdisciplinary writer, I seek meaning not form per se.
Clara: In much of your work, language doesn’t just describe—it disrupts, challenges, and reorients perception. What were the particular challenges of translating that kind of textual friction into the physical space of an exhibition?
Maria: In this exhibition there is no form of translation or description. Rather, there is, I hope, stroboscopic language embodied in each artefact; the use of language here is ambient and affectual. In the opera-film, History of the Present,(which is also, of course, the title of the exhibition), language is used to show how history enters the body and how, in this work, it exits the body through voice, but that a trace of that history, a shard perhaps, never leaves the body and is incorporated into it. This is trauma. So, when I employ language in an aporetic expanded way, as it is employed in this exhibition, it is concrete and I am pointing towards what is left behind rather than what is told.
Clara: Your work often engages with social and historical structures in ways that resist straightforward interpretation. Rather than asking what you ‘hope’ audiences take from the exhibition, I’m curious—what kinds of readings or misreadings do you find most compelling when people interact with your work?
Maria: It would be remiss of me (of anyone for that matter!) to believe that history is straightforward, or that it is accurate; close reading and listening is essential to try to develop a critically engaged relationship with extant historical materials. I am attracted to the minor characters in major events, to the 'marginal', to the forgotten, to those who did their hard work without being noticed. As the subject of History of the Present grows from a place of a specific place during a specific period of history (Belfast during the Troubles), had to think carefully, with Margaret (who is American)
The Weight We Carry
The weight of surviving sexual assault is crushing. Guilt, shame, and fear become so heavy it becomes impossible to carry. Fear of not being believed. Fear of being ostracised. Fear of being put on trial ourselves, scrutinized and judged as the world asks, Are you the perfect victim? These emotions are all-consuming. They change us, reshape our lives, and alter the chemistry of our brains. For many survivors, the question remains: Why do we feel responsible for what was done to us?
about how much audiences would know about that civil war, or how much they chose to forget. The work is not a documentary; it is abstract, experimental, lyrical but also precise and emotionally tough; audiences seem to respond to that in an emotionally intelligent and speculative way, each audience is different, and I learn something new from them each time.
In the Good Seats and Film
Writing
Clara: Your essay in In the Good Seats takes a distinctive approach to film. Without presuming too much about the text before reading it, I’m curious—how did you conceive of the form and tone of this piece in relation to your broader writing practice?
Maria: I don't strategise an individual text in the content of my 'oeuvre' though someone did say to me recently that I am my own genre... I wrote about Alan Clarke's 38-minute film Elephant, which was screened on BBC Two on 25 January 1989. The essay was commissioned as part of the collection, as a 'personal essay', i.e. from a subjective point of view.
It's a very difficult film, a non-linear sequence of eighteen uncontextualised killings, shot on Steadicam, on location in Belfast, I wanted to match the tone of Elephant, paying attention to pace and how the work settles on its subject at the end of each sequence to give time for the viewer to consider the implications of what they have seen and, I suppose, to situate themselves in relation to a violent (deadly) act.
This requires much labour and attention on the part of the viewer,
so wanted to attend my own critical, subjective analysis with the same rigour and honesty. It is a highly detailed and sometimes difficult read, but as with much of my work, not without humour: I am Northern Irish after all, and we do like to laugh.
Clara: You’ve written extensively about the politics of voice, authorship, and representation—how do you see critical writing influencing the way we experience and interpret film? Does it clarify, disrupt, or generate new cinematic possibilities? Was there a particular film that sparked your interest in writing about cinema in this way?
Maria: I have always watched a lot of films, mainly on TV. When I was growing up, I watched everything, with no knowledge nor presuppositions about quality, value or taste.
I have written about film in the past, I have an ongoing cycle of texts about Donald Sutherland's filmic output between 1970-1980 for example, in fact am writing about Don't Look Now at the moment, which I have been wary of writing about for years, to help me access the film's inner workings, I am focussing on minute details as a form of declaration. All forms can slither into one another, depending on the ambient atmosphere.
Clara: Lastly, if you could program a screening to accompany your essay, what films would be in the lineup?
Maria: I'm not sure, however seeing as you've asked, tonally I would offer: Pasolini's Porcile, Frederick Wiseman's Titticut Follies and a few late 1970 episodes of Dr Who.
As Sexual Assault Awareness Month approaches this April, I want to write about the weight of guilt, shame, and fear, and how we can begin to let go of it. I share my story because hearing other survivor’s stories eventually gave me the courage to reclaim my own. By speaking, I took my power back. I refused to carry this sick man’s secret any longer.
Sexual assault isn’t always at the hand of a scary man hiding in the bushes waiting for their next victim, or a violent attack in a dark alley. It is so often forced upon us by someone we know. Someone that we have crossed paths with many times, are familiar with, and maybe even trust.
One in three women globally has experienced physical and or sexual violence in their lifetime, often perpetrated by someone they know. For men, the number is one in six. If you are one of these people and you are questioning whether to share your story, know this: whatever choice you make is valid. Whether you speak or stay silent, I believe you.
The Roots of Stigma: How Society Frames Sexual Assault
Only recently has society begun to align on the fact that consent is both legally and socially non-negotiable. As recently as the 2010’s, pop culture and mainstream media were littered with “jokes” that normalized coercion and blurred the lines of consent. That is a discussion for another article, but the point remains: the cultural lens through which we view sex and consent is still deeply flawed.
Survivors face a barrage of questions: What were you wearing? Were you drinking? Why didn’t you call the police? Why were you even there? Why didn’t you fight back?
Surviving sexual assault is life-altering enough. Adding the social and legal trials that follow often deters individuals from coming forward. If someone isn’t the perfect victim — blameless,
likable, traumatised in a way that is palatable to the public — their experience is dismissed. Shame is one of the heaviest burdens a survivor carries. It silences and isolates, leaving a constant feeling that we are somehow damaged beyond repair. It’s an invisible branding that lingers long after the assault, shaping the way we see ourselves and the world around us. For me, the guilt, shame, and emotional whiplash of the assault changed the way saw and interacted with every element of my life.
How Shame is Weaponised Against Survivors Shame is a powerful deterrent em-
bedded in all cultures in different ways. While the source of shame may vary, the feelings it evokes are often similar. In social circles, survivors fear losing friendships if people side with the perpetrator, refusing to believe someone they know is capable of such violence. In professional environments, reporting sexual assault can lead to being labeled “difficult” or “dramatic,” and can often stunt career progression. In more conservative communities, survivors may be pressured to stay silent to “avoid bringing shame” to their families. The shame imposed by others is enough to keep many silent. But shame thrives in secrecy. It grows
stronger in the dark. And yet, when survivors finally put their experiences into words, the shame starts to lose its grip.
The False Sense of Responsibility
Self-blame is a common response to trauma, and sexual assault is no exception. Feeling complicit in the assault is a highly reported experience among survivors. The self-blame thought loop is easy to fall into, but let us never forget to refocus our attention on the person who is truly responsible: the perpetrator. It comes down to this: the assault happened because that person is a sexual predator. Not because of the clothes you wore or how much yous drank. A predator will always find their prey. Often, it is simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This is a brutal and stark reality that I wish could go back and tell myself. It would’ve saved years of self-loathing and agonizing over all the what-ifs of the night of the incident. It is not our fault for trusting someone to do the decent, humane, and legal thing, which is to not sexually assault people. That isn’t much to ask. Expecting someone not to take advantage of you is a basic expectation, yet we live in a world where even that is too often violated. So let’s place the responsibility back where it belongs. You wouldn’t blame a murder victim for getting murdered, or a carjacking victim for being robbed, so why is sexual assault treated differently?
My Story
I was assaulted by my supervisor. A man I considered a close friend and mentor. We had known each
other for years. Our families had met, we shared career and life milestones, and I trusted him. One night, after a group of us had been out drinking, we ended up back at his house. He cornered me in a bedroom, blocked the door, and assaulted me. The next day, I confided in a close friend, who convinced me to go to the hospital. refused the forensic exam. It felt too invasive, and at the time, I was certain I wouldn’t press charges. The doctors treated me, documented my injuries with photos and notes, and I left. I told no one else for four months. During that time, I was consumed by shame, confusion, and selfblame. Why didn’t fight harder? Why didn’t call the police? Why didn’t I scream? I convinced myself it was my fault because hadn’t done those things. The weight of it was crushing, and I was deteriorating in every way. Eventually, I broke. The secret had been holding inside spilled out. At first, speaking up didn’t feel like relief. It felt impossible. Terrifying. But as they say: Feel the fear but do it anyway. Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes. Any and all platitudes I could scrounge up to inspire the courage it took to face this process of seeking justice in the courts against my assailant. As word spread of the incident and investigation that was taking place, other women that this man had assaulted began to come forward. One by one, until there were six of us from the same workplace that had all fallen victim to this man’s violent, devious agenda. Every day that didn’t want to keep going in the dragged out legal process, where was the one who essentially ended up on trial, I found strength in the fact that holding him accountable might keep another woman from being his next victim. Not all of us saw justice for our cases, as many charges went unconvicted. In the end, he was sentenced to only three years in prison for his crimes against half a dozen women he was the direct supervisor of. A devastating reality to face after putting up a half decade long fight. But I would never wonder “what if” again. I could sleep a little better knowing that by coming forward, other women felt called to come forward as well and share their truth. That we may have put an end to his cycle of abuse and easy access to victims by sharing our stories and pursuing legal justice against him. Or at least made it a little more difficult for him to hide behind the title of a “trustworthy leader” any longer.
Good food equals happiness. As well as your body thriving on all the nutrients in a well-balanced meal, there’s a certain flavour of joy that accompanies sitting down with a dish that you know will be satisfying. If I had all the hours in the day, and all the money in the world, I would buy the freshest, most luxurious ingredients, and spend hours making the most delicious dinners. Alas, student life is not conducive to that lifestyle. After a long day of college, the last thing want to do is stand in my shared kitchen for more than twenty minutes and slave over a dish that uses up all the ingredients in my fridge, only to realise have to do the same thing all over again tomorrow night. However, I've mostly figured out how to find the balance between the ideal and the practical, and most nights, (some nights just require takeout), I am happy with the meal I’ve prepared.
When I first came to college, finding the creativity, patience, and skill to go grocery shopping and cook dinner every night was difficult. I was living on my own for the first time, and before then, had never needed to plan out meals for the week, let alone
cook them. However, with a little practice, grocery shopping has become easier, and I’ve learned how to budget where I can and how to decide what is worth spending the extra euro on (extra virgin olive oil, every time). Though I’ve experimented with some truly odd recipe combinations, most nights I have been able to find a balance between easy meals and more exciting, yet still budget-friendly recipes. Here are a few of my favorites to inspire you. I’ve included prices for ingredients that aren’t usually pantry essentials, and most can be found at Tesco.
Tomato Gnocchi Bake Gnocchi, the outlier in the pasta community, is traditionally a simple mix of potatoes, flour, and eggs. It often gets overlooked when grocery shopping, but is great for a quick and delicious meal. My absolute favorite gnocchi dish is adapted from a New York Times recipe, and it's been a family staple in the Criscuolo household for a few years. We whip it out for dinner parties or a quiet night in front of the TV, and it's delicious every time. Now, at school, it’smy comfort meal, and I make it when I’m missing home.
This recipe is approximate, and can be adjusted as necessary for the amount of servings you’d like. This is enough for 2-3 servings, which means delicious leftovers!
1 tsp olive oil
1 pkg of gnocchi (Tesco brand is around €1.40)
1 pkg of cherry tomatoes (under €3), or more if you are a tomato lover like I am
Around 1 tbsp butter
1 pkg fresh mozzarella (€1.35), torn into even pieces
2 garlic cloves, chopped Salt to taste
Optional: a bit of basil
Heat the olive oil in an oven-proof pan, and once hot, add in the gnocchi. Let these cook, covered, until they are toasty and golden brown on the outside, tossing every so often to ensure even cooking. Set aside. Melt the butter and chopped garlic in the same pan and add the cherry tomatoes and a pinch of salt. Cook the tomatoes down, and burst with a spatula as they soften. Once the juice from the tomatoes thickens, stir in the gnocchi and basil, (if using), and place the mozzarella pieces on top. Broil the dish in a preheated oven until the cheese is melted and turning golden brown.
Courgette Spaghetti
One of the first cookbooks I bought for myself included a delicious recipe for courgette spaghetti, and I make it a few times a month. Originally, was apprehensive about buying a two pack of courgettes, (what’s typically sold at Tesco), as I wasn't quite sure what to do with the remaining courgette, but this recipe is so delicious and easy to make, you will want to make it more than once a week - perfect to use up both courgettes in the pack. The recipe is approximate and can be adjusted based on how much pasta you would like to eat.
1 courgette (a 2-pack is €1.69), sliced in thin strips
1 Tbsp olive oil
One serving of spaghetti (€1.65/ pkg)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
Grated parmesan cheese (€1.99/ pkg)
In a saucepan, heat the olive oil and garlic. Once hot, add the courgette and cook it down until it's mushy and fragrant (which will take more than 10 minutes).
Boil the spaghetti in a separate
pot, and when draining, reserve a cup of the starchy water. Add the spaghetti to the courgette and toss, adding in some of the water if it’s too thick. Stir in as much parmesan as you would like and enjoy!
Homemade Sushi
will always associate sushi with dinner with friends, and it’s one of my favourite foods. However, going out to get sushi can be expensive, and I only will do so on special occasions. But on days when I would like a little decadence at home, I make my own. It's easier and cheaper than you think, and there are so many possible combinations.
A pack of Yaki Nori Seaweed is €3 for 10 sheets from Dunnes, which is well worth it, and will last for ages in your pantry. You also don’t need to buy specific sushi rice, regular rice works just as well, and you can add a bit of white wine or rice wine vinegar in for taste if desired.
My favorite sushi combinations are cucumber and tofu, canned tuna and cucumber, broccolini and tuna (it sounds weird but it's good, I promise), tofu and carrots, and the list goes on and on. Pretty much whatever is in your fridge will work. I like to make sure I have something crunchy and a
Chloé˙ Feldman
At age sixteen, when I bought my first Joan Didion book, had to order it online, as my local bookstore had none of her work in store. She was a National Book Award winner and a literary icon, yet somehow she was missing from the shelves. don’t know whether to blame that certain Montreal bookstore’s curation or a general lack of demand, but when I finished Slouching Towards Bethlehem did not understand why she was so hard to find.
bit of protein in there to balance it out.
When rolling the seaweed, spread the rice thinly over the non-shiny side, (there’s instructions on the package), and leave an inch gap on the end. Fill your roll, roll it carefully up, and cut into pieces. Or eat it like a burrito, that works too.
Regular soy sauce works well for dipping, or you can get even fancier and mix some honey, soy sauce, and white wine or rice wine vinegar to make a tasty sauce.
Roasted Chickpeas
Chickpeas are my absolute favorite bean, and are ideal for a little protein boost in pasta, rice, on salad, or, (if you have a blender), for homemade hummus. A can in Tesco costs 43 cents, so they’re a great pantry item to stock up on. The best way to eat chickpeas, (in my opinion), is to coat them in olive oil, salt, and pepper, and then stick them in the air fryer or on a sheet pan in the oven and cook until they’re nice and crispy. This adds a nice crunch to your meal! I hope you’ve found some inspiration from these recipes, and that your meals this week will be better than ever. Happy cooking and even happier eating!
Now five years later, I walk into the same bookstore and Didion is everywhere. Her books line the shelves, and newly published works about her take center stage. Since her passing in 2021, there has been a surge of books dissecting her life and her legacy. There’s Didion and Babitz by Lili Anolik which explores her relationship with writer Eve Babitz, We Tell Ourselves Stories where Alissa Wilkinson examines her relationship with Hollywood, and The World According to Joan Didion by Evelyn McDonnell, who describes her overall influence. While these books paint Didion as a complex and remarkably talented figure, there is something unsettling about seeing readers engage with these bestsellers without ever reading her own
work. Is this what truly defines a great writer; her legacy, rather than the words she’s left behind? Or, has Didion’s legacy shifted from her writing to a mere aesthetic? British Vogue published an article on her style choices, celebrities have been photographed carrying her books like accessories, and Julian Wasser’s iconic image of Didion, cigarette in hand, is being sold on tote bags. While it is exciting to see a talented female writer in the spotlight, would Didion herself have enjoyed the way her image has been commodified?
While described as “scotch and cigarette chic”, Didion was more than an aesthetic but a dedicated writer and cultural observer who spent decades scrutinising life in America. In South and West, she traces a road trip through the South, observing small towns, conducting interviews, and examining the intersections of race, class, and heritage.
In The Year of Magical Thinking, Didion offers a very personal account of grappling with grief and illness of loved ones. Her work spans politics, cultural figures, civil unrest, and human relationships, awarding her an array of awards including the 2012 National Humanities Medal awarded by President Barack Obama.
Despite having over 20 books published, it is her life, rather than her work, that dominates popular media. While there is nothing inherently wrong with
admiring her effortlessly cool persona, the focus has shifted from celebrating her as a writer to elevating her as an aesthetic, cigarette-holding, Céline-wearing, chic celebrity. Didion was a master of self-reflection, as shown in her journal entries, and non-fiction work. So why are we rewriting her story for mass consumption, when she has already shared it in her own words? Historically, other literary figures have had their story cut short: for example, Sylvia Plath’s suicide at age 30 left biographers many gaps to fill. There was a necessity to reconstruct her narrative, as Plath was unable to do so herself during her lifetime. But Didion, who lived to age 87, left behind a rich body of essays, and books that tell her story with great clarity, leaving little unsaid. Additionally, in April 2025, one of Didion’s private diaries will be published as a book titled Notes to John. With her own story being told in the most personal form, there is no need to perform the same level of scrutiny. Instead of engaging with Didion’s writing, we have become fixated on her persona. While Didion was undeniably cool during her lifetime, since her passing, this is what has taken centre stage. By focusing on her image, we are missing out on her cultural observations, intense vulnerability, and insights into American life. The best way to honour Didion’s legacy should not be by aestheticising her, it should be by reading her.
