Fuelled by anticipation, the audience of bibliophiles and journalists alike stream into Smock Alley Theatre’s inner sanctum for an evening with some of Ireland’s most creative minds. Ciaran Carty, Rob Doyle, Paula Meehan and Joseph O’Connor emerge into the intimately lit space to tremendous applause, and a hush comes over the theatre as we settle into our seats for an hour of intelligent, literary conversation.
Carty, acting as chair, introduces the topic for discussion: What is the role of the writer in a society that is becoming increasingly self-censored? Inspired by his recent work, Writer to Writer: The Republic of Elsewhere, published by the Lilliput Press, Carty explains that, writers are from the realm of the creative, “the country of the imagination, the Republic of Elsewhere”. Removed from society yet still central to its representation in the world, writers are finding themselves increasingly labelled by their backgrounds, gender, class and race, with more attention being placed on the individual person as opposed to the true value of their art. Where do the incessant identity politics of today actually leave a writer?
O’Connor, critically acclaimed author of Star of the Sea, believes that the role of the writer is as it has ever been, only now there are more opportunities to “marinate” in social issues and filter them into the creative process. For O’Connor, it doesn’t matter where your writing comes from, as long as the end result is of merit: “Sometimes I think it’s really important to try change the world… but the most important thing is to create something beautiful and memorable.” Regardless of the “us and them” mentality, as O’Connor puts it, that has become commonplace in a number of societies across the world, people still have a “need for an experience of empathy” that only artists and writers can cater to.
Similar to O’Connor, Meehan, a poet and playwright, has strived throughout her career to escape from the labels placed upon her. For her, the role of the writer is to lose sight of themselves and to see writing as “experimental” and exploratory, as opposed to simply confirming what you already know about the world and yourself. As an Irish woman born in the 1950s, Meehan feels she was handed unresolved issues on a plate just by simply entering the world. Recalling one of her first experiences of being “labelled”, she remembers overhearing the parent of a friend of hers say “don’t play with her, she’s from the tenements”. As destructive as labelling can be, Meehan believes that “what oppresses you can become your tool”, and her poetry comes from a place that is outside the stereotype-laden society we face every day.
With Doyle’s confession that he “recoils against the imposition of labels”, he tells Carty that he is drawn to the notion of “art for art’s sake”, that is purely there to evoke, and not to radically and morally better society. And “money, for God’s sake!”, quips Meehan, believing that today’s society forces its writers to conform in order to survive. Yet, Doyle describes literature as a “great human project, a supreme adventure”, and to box yourself into what society deems you to be is to be “ghettoised” into creating something simply for the sake of it. In Doyle’s opinion, it is no wonder so many writers go through a reclusive period. They are merely self-protecting against the politics and “culture wars” of our time.
Describing censorship as “a curious mix of power and insecurity”, O’Connor finds that the past tradition of censorship in Ireland encourages the writers of today to express themselves honestly, risking the wrath of disagreement. For so long, Ireland’s approach to the radical writer was, as he puts it, “we give with one hand and we burn your book with the other”. And yet Irish writers are among our greatest national treasures. Doyle quips that, “if all the books on his shelves written by people with poor morals were confiscated, there would be nothing there”. As Carty reminds us, being what is considered a “good” person is not inextricably linked to being a good writer.
The way Irish writers will respond to the intense focus on political correctness in the Trumpian era of “fake news” will reveal how far we have come, or have yet to go, from the mid-20th century censorship that our history is riddled with. As O’Connor explains, we have always expected our writers to have an opinion, and all we can do is hope that those opinions are welcomed going forwards.
Leaving the audience with a lot to think about on their commute home, Carty closes the discussion on a hopeful note, stating that, as Curator of the Hennessy Literary Award, he sees new Irish writers coming to the fore every year, despite the further encroachment of politics, labels and stereotypes upon the international literary tradition. As the lights come on and the doors are opened, the audience leaves elated, educated and hopeful that the coming centuries of Irish literature will be just as fruitful and defiant as the last.
