The Moth — monthly newsletter

[The Moth]

The rain grinds on, but the mornings are brighter at least. We're not getting up in the dark. That's something. The dark evenings don't bother me as much - once the fire is lit and I have a good book to read. I just revisited The Catcher in the Rye after some thirty-five years. It broke my heart. My brother and a friend and I started a little book club (my first). We kicked off with Dermot Healy's A Goat Song. He was a most extraordinary writer, one of our finest, and one of our least talked about. I failed to record an interview with Dermot for The Moth at the Farnham Hotel on Main Street in Cavan back in 2011 and so had to ask him for a second interview (this time with Will). He very kindly invited us to his home in Sligo. His wife Helen made us delicious pancakes. It was magic. There's a beautiful film about Dermot, directed by Garry Keane, called The Writing in the Sky, if you care to take a look. Our first book club meeting was funny. Though we all loved A Goat's Song, we struggled to talk about it. I guess we were a bit shy. Next we're going to read some Ursula Le Guin.  The children and I went up to the Cuilcagh Mountains in search of snow last week. We climbed Benbeg. It was wild up there ‒ windy and white with mist ‒ but we managed to find some patches at the summit. Other than that, I have been going on little excursions down the lane or into the field and down to the lake with our dogs Billy and Arthur. Nothing too strenuous.    Will and I went to a couple of wonderful gigs at our local Townhall in Cavan Town recently. The first was the launch of the debut album of the Feel Bad Movie Club, a local band fronted by Liam McCabe, who has a real gift for songwriting, I think. Check out 'New Year's Day, Too Hungover to Cry'. Last weekend, we were at our friend Cormac McCann's first big solo performance as the 'Piano Man'. It was a lovely vaudevillian mixture of music and comedy. He even brought his 85-year-old mother up on stage to duet with him. Cormac's father Brendan taught me English in my last few years in secondary school. Engaging, witty and hugely encouraging, he persuaded each of the girls in his class that we could write well so long as we wrote about what we were passionate about. If you were mad about horses, then you should write about horses! He always carried a little black notebook, for jotting down ideas. He had to leave school when he was young, and worked on the buses in Dublin before putting himself through night school and university, which is probably why he was such an ardent and empathetic teacher. I was lucky enough to reconnect with him later in life, and to have the pleasure of helping him compile his collection of poems, Erne Valley. Here's a lovely little poem from the opening pages ...    Berries of the Haw Blossom white the summer field, and when corn is cut and milled redden round the haggard straw.  Sweeten when dark winds blow,  through bitter frost and snow fill the song-birds craw. Blood-red morsels, let them eat what stirs the sap in bitten feet. Oh never that beak or claw    come spring, forgets your feast;  nor in songs of praise the least the famine berries of the haw.    Brendan McCann Speaking of poetry, we expect to hear from The Moth Poetry Prize judge Ishion Hutchinson in the next couple of days, so if you entered the prize please do bear with us, we'll be in touch very soon! And don't forget, The Caterpillar Poetry Prize is up and running. You have until 31 March to write a winner. If you've never written a poem for children before, then why not set yourself the challenge now?   Until next time xo Copyright © The Moth Magazine Ltd All rights reserved. Our mailing address is: enqu...@themothmagazine.com Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.