Oliver St. John Gogarty (1878–1957)

Truth in reviewing: I didn't finish this book, largely because I was growing increasingly disinterested in it. One had the sensation of a person telling a very long-winded joke, which one can't get because of the allusions contained within it. Unless you're very well versed in 1920s and 1930s Irish politics, I don't think you're going to get more than a fraction of the allusions and references in the book. Be forewarned.

This is a memoir of the Irish Rennaissance, from the Irish side. Highly fanciful, but extremely readable Gogarty feels that his friends and contemporaries were worthy of the record. I would agree that the people revealed here were worth the effort. Perhaps led away by the lure of a punch line, there is much good material here. Do cross check before using this work as a footnoted source, however.

A fantasy-Memoir of the Irish flowering of the Early twentieth Century, by a man who was not the least of the blooms. Though he lost the libel suit arising from material in this book, Gogarty portrays many of the period's luminaries sympathetically. He said, "the names are real, the characters fictitious!" It runs from 1932 to 1904, in that order, and is interesting, where it's not riveting.