On Friday, March 20th, the Fitzgerald Lecture Theatre played host to the launch of physicist and poet Prof Iggy McGovern’s newest poetry collection: Hammer and Spark. The Fitzgerald Theatre, where McGovern once stood teaching equations and experiments, became a space for rhythm and reflection, reflecting McGovern’s rare ability to move between the worlds of science and poetry.
The event began with a witty introduction from James Harper, who recalled his own disastrous experiences of secondary school physics before pivoting to celebrate McGovern as someone who not only teaches physics but transforms it into art. The central idea of the evening quickly became clear: while there are many talented physicists and poets, it is exceptionally rare to find someone who meaningfully inhabits both disciplines, or exists within the intersection of that particular Venn diagram, as Harper joked.
Hammer and Spark’s title is rooted in Trinity’s scientific heritage, referencing Nobel Prize winner and former Erasmus-Smith professor, physicist Ernest Walton, who famously split the atom. McGovern once occupied the room next door to Walton during his time in Oxford, and recalled hearing experimental tinkerings through the wall, an image that becomes emblematic of the collection’s approach. Science here is not abstract or distant, but immediate, audible, and deeply human. Throughout the book, figures like William Rowan Hamilton and Walton himself crop up like old friends as Iggy uses his “scientific erudition and clarity to the locus of poetry” as described by Harper. Schrodinger, the subject of Iggy’s last book, once said that “the task is not so much to see what no one has yet seen, but to think what nobody has yet thought about that which everybody sees”. Harper rightly made the connection that while this applies to physics, it is also what poets are supposed to do, to “turn the prose of the quotidian into the poetry of the special”.
The collection is structured into four parts, described during the launch as a kind of ‘quaternion’ in a nod to Hamilton’s famous mathematical breakthrough. Each section explores different aspects of Iggy’s life, taking the audience on a journey through readings from each section.
Part one is a celebration of the so-called “4Ps” – prayer, physics, politics, and poetry – attributed to the late Enda McDonagh, professor of moral theology and canon law at Trinity, who wanted to close the divide between science and religious thought. McGovern was jokingly referred to as the “poster boy” of this concept and wove these ideas together with ease, as seen in poems that reflect on childhood faith, growing up in the north of Ireland, and the memories in between. In one reading, he revisited an Easter incident from his youth, recounting with both humour and vivid imagery the moment an older boy, attempting to extinguish a candle, accidentally poured molten wax over his own head in what McGovern described as a kind of “fiery baptism.” The anecdote, both comic and strangely tender, set the tone for much of what followed.
The readings then progressed into Part 2, The Home Front, which felt like a movement into more personal and familial territory. Poems, such as The Boys Named Ignatius, humorously poked fun at McGovern’s own name, dedicating it to his “fellow sufferers”. He also drew upon wider historical events, as one particularly striking poem recalled a day on the Thames overshadowed by news of the Omagh bombing, capturing the uneasy coexistence of ordinary life and political violence. McGovern’s treatment of such moments avoids grand statements, instead focusing on the small, human decisions – whether to make a phone call, whether to continue as planned – that give these events their emotional weight.
Despite the depth of these themes, the evening never lost its sense of lightness. McGovern’s wit surfaced repeatedly, recounting family stories that blend absurdity with affection. One such piece tells of the peculiar claim that his father was baptised two days before he was born, a detail McGovern attributes, with a raised eyebrow, to the likely involvement of alcohol. These moments of humour serve not as distractions, but as integral parts of the collection’s voice, grounding its more reflective passages in lived experience.
At the heart of the collection is a sequence of fourteen interlinked sonnets dedicated to his late wife, Eileen. This “crown of sonnets,” a technically demanding form in which each poem leads into the next (a form suggested to him by Seamus Heaney), traces the arc of a shared life: from early dates and marriage to parenthood and, ultimately, loss. McGovern’s reading of these poems was one of the most moving parts of the evening, shifting seamlessly between humour – describing a rainy Achill honeymoon and housing struggles – to profound tenderness. In describing Eileen’s final months in hospice care, he spoke not in terms of tragedy, but of presence, companionship, and even joy, ending with the quietly devastating reflection that they “made each other laugh.”
The final section of Hammer and Spark, described as a kind of “warming down,” leans into this lighter tone, offering poems that are playful, reflective, and self-aware. The evening concluded with an invitation to continue the celebration downstairs in the Fitzgerald Library, where a reception accompanied by a musical performance from fellow Trinity physicist Stefan Hutzler, who performed songs inspired by poetry, including adaptations of McGovern’s own work.
What emerged most clearly over the course of the evening was not just the strength of Hammer and Spark as a collection, but the coherence of McGovern’s vision. His work does not treat physics and poetry as opposing modes of thought, but as complementary ones, each offering a way to see more clearly, to notice more deeply, and to make sense of the ordinary. As Harper put it in his introduction, “It’s a book full of trademark Iggy-isms, ingenuity, wit, masterful use of rhyme, engaging humour, and innate human warmth. It’s a book that shows us how to value the world around us, and not at a deep particle level only, but through the everyday lens of loving relationships.”
