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Destiny's Child reunited? Michael Flatley's Áras run? Recession indicators, big time

Destiny's Child reunited? Michael Flatley's Áras run? Recession indicators, big time

Irish Times3 days ago
Last week, Destiny's Child reformed for the first time in several years. All three members appeared on stage during a
Beyoncé
concert in
Las Vegas
. When I saw the news my brain instantly went to: 'Destiny's Child are reuniting = recession indicator.' Just the other day I was mulling about
Labubu dolls
– those crazed little fanged monsters hanging off handbags and backpacks – and thinking Labubus and their outrageous price tags must surely be a recession indicator. Young people enjoying themselves outside on the streets of Dublin? Recession indicator. Michael Flatley running for president? Big recession indicator. Huge.
It's been a social media trend for months now to label almost anything a 'recession indicator' and I get it, I really do. The combination of one horrific world event after another coupled with our ability to pour news of said events directly into our eyeballs from sun up to sundown means we are constantly waiting for the next global disaster to land. The obsession with recession makes sense. Meath musician CMAT, a true tastemaker, has her finger on the pulse as usual with her latest single Euro-Country, in which she savages 'All the big boys / All the Berties/ All the envelopes' of Ireland's catastrophic banking crash.
Depending on who you listen to, we're either hurtling towards a recession, have had three recessions since Covid, or are nowhere close to an economic downturn. Still, though, some of the cultural portents are there. Remember the great 'desk to dancefloor' movement that started circa 2008-9 when women went out clubbing in business-casual attire paired with a dangly earring? I'm telling you, it's back. Have you been in a Zara recently? Clean eating has found its new incarnation, this time in the form of the demonisation of 'ultra processed foods', and alongside it is a renewed obsession with 'heroin chic' slimness. Recession. Indicators. Every single one.
I'm somebody who made it through 2008 and the subsequent years relatively unscathed. My family and our means were extremely modest through the 1990s and early 2000s. Both of my parents had grown up with very little so were highly risk averse when it came to money. We didn't reap any Celtic Tiger benefits so there wasn't really much to lose. We didn't have a holiday home in Bulgaria or go Christmas shopping in New York and Santa never arrived in a helicopter at my school. The closest we got to helicopters was via my dad's job as an Air Corps sergeant in Baldonnel.
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When the crash came, we weren't dependent on any of the industries that came down with it. I graduated from my second go at college in 2006 and went into a radio journalism job on €26,000 a year. I felt rich beyond my wildest dreams, even though I was €12,000 below the average annual wage. I rented a flat with my friends and we bought the cheapest and most toxic spirits from the supermarket and mixed them with beverages that were shamelessly imitating Red Bull.
When the recession hit the most tangible impact I remember was the sharp downturn in media-adjacent launches and parties offering free booze. We threw a 'Re-Session' party in the flat and served the toxic vodka, as per usual. In 2008 my mother was a recently retired primary schoolteacher and in May of that year my father died of cancer, which was enough to distract from the global economic disaster.
Truly, though, not much changed for me. I feel lucky now that my parents' jobs as public servants and our place on the low end of the middle classes insulated me from the true horror that others suffered. The shock waves from 2008 and the years that followed still reverberate and I feel those keenly, particularly when it comes to housing.
All signs point to another crash like the one in 2008 being unlikely, but that doesn't negate the fact that many people are struggling. Conflating the cost-of-living crisis with possible recession via the shorthand language of memes and humour online isn't all that surprising. People are poised for disaster. If Will Smith making new music or Ryanair getting militant about the size of your tiny bag feels like recession indicator, then maybe it is. Just please, for the love of God, don't let skinny jeans come back. We've suffered enough.
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Why Irish romance fiction deserves its happily ever after
Why Irish romance fiction deserves its happily ever after

Irish Times

time28 minutes ago

  • Irish Times

Why Irish romance fiction deserves its happily ever after

The illustrious history of Irish literature is rife with romance fiction, from Sydney Owenson's The Wild Irish Girl: A National Tale published in 1806 to Anna Carey's recently released Our Song. Romance fiction revolves around a love story and ends happily. It includes literary classics as well as commercial fiction, and plays a crucial role in representing Irish society, past and present. By featuring characters who overcome internal and external barriers to happiness, it voices aspirations for personal fulfilment and a better society. Wildly popular with readers of all ages, romance has long been the most profitable genre in publishing. Colleen Hoover, an American whose novels revolve around love stories, was the bestselling writer in Ireland in 2022, and Irish authors from Maeve Binchy to Sally Rooney have had internationally chart-busting, award-winning novels rooted in romance. READ MORE A quick scroll through BookTok or Instagram, or a quick pass through any library or bookshop, confirms that romance is having a cultural moment. Yet, this genre continues to be dismissed as a mindless guilty pleasure for readers. Even the most successful Irish writers bristle at the 'romance' label because the term so effectively has been weaponised to demean and dismiss their work. An exhibition currently on view at the Museum of Literature Ireland (MoLI) – titled Happy Ever After: Falling in Love with Irish Romance Fiction – seeks to change that misconception. By awarding Irish romance fiction the serious consideration it deserves, it hopes to transform 'romance' into a neutral descriptor, one that generates as little adverse friction as labels like 'French fiction' or 'nature writing'. [ The rise of romantasy: Escapist books become more popular as real-world challenges loom Opens in new window ] The exhibition traces the long and varied history of the Irish romance novel, beginning with Vertue Rewarded; or, the Irish Princess, anonymously published in 1693. This is the first of many examples in which romance serves as political allegory. In subsequent centuries, numerous other novels have focused on love stories between English settlers or soldiers and Irish women, thus offering a highly personal metaphor for reconciliation. This tradition continues into the 21st century: Sue Divin's Guard Your Heart (2021) depicts two 18-year-olds from Derry, one Catholic and the other Protestant, who meet and fall in love in 2016, years after the Good Friday/ Belfast Agreement, but who must necessarily negotiate the legacy of the Troubles. Romance fiction has historically been written by women, for women. By taking romance seriously, we not only open the canon to more women writers, but also revise certain long-standing misconceptions of Irish literature. Aside from rare examples such as Joyce's 1922 novel Ulysses, it has been commonly understood that poetry, drama, and the short story were the dominant Irish literary forms until the late 20th century. But Ulysses didn't come out of nowhere. For centuries, Irish women writers published hundreds of popular novels, many of them romances. In the early decades of the 20th century, Katharine Tynan wrote more than 100 novels, Rosa Mulholland more than 50. Yet these contributions were largely ignored, disregarded as sentimental or too feminine. Irish romance fiction frequently depicts suffering, loss and shame – but it also shows how people can endure those trials. Photograph: MoLI Irish romance fiction is a transnational genre, one that has long been popular with readers worldwide. In fact, my interest in its history was stoked by a discovery in the library stacks of the Jesuit college in Massachusetts where I teach. At Holy Cross, our collection holds shelves and shelves of these older Irish romances, suggesting that these novels were relished by the many Irish immigrant priests teaching there during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. This finding undermines another stereotype, that only women read romance: over a century ago, priests and their male students were enjoying these warm tales of human connection. The enduring appeal of Irish romance fiction owes much to the qualities it shares with Irish literature more broadly: lively dialogue, vivid detail and a tight focus on ordinary life. At times, these books seem to depict cultural transformations almost as they occur in real time. Published in 1917, and dedicated to the 1916 revolutionaries, Annie MP Smithson's bestselling novel, Her Irish Heritage, might seem like a dusty artefact. Yet, it unfolds in a surprisingly modern Dublin with professional men and women enjoying motorcar rides and film screenings. In one scene, Smithson describes Dr. Delaney and nurse Mary Carmichael catching the opera Faust at the Gaiety; while the novel embraces the conservative mores of its time, Smithson's accounts of flirtatious banter and eating chocolates at the interval feel as though they could be happening today. Skipping ahead a century, Adiba Jaigirdar's Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating, published in 2021, invites readers into the everyday lives of two queer teens as their friendship evolves into a romance. Without significant toll, the young protagonists embrace their ambitions and their attraction with support from their middle-class Bengali-Irish families. Meanwhile, writers such as Marian Keyes and Patricia Scanlan are revisiting characters from their previous novels. Decades after we first met them, the Walsh sisters and City Girls now care for elderly parents, manage menopause, struggle with grief, negotiate a changing workplace and enjoy the freedoms of the empty nest – all with the backing of friends, family and love interests. Irish romance fiction moves with the times. Its characters might exercise reproductive choice, seek gender equity, escape intimate partner abuse, struggle to come out of the closet, or navigate the challenges of inward and outward migration. These books also reflect and normalise changing perceptions of love and marriage. Today, the happily ever after in Irish romance does not necessarily mean a Catholic wedding between a man and a woman. Instead, it may take the form of short-term relationships, queer relationships, polyamorous relationships or individual self-fulfilment. [ How to write a romance novel: just fall in love with your hero Opens in new window ] A global reading community is helping to give romance fiction its own happy ending. Photograph: MoLI In recent years, romance fiction has responded to legitimate criticism that it too often unfolds in a world of white, heterosexual affluence. Increasingly, Irish romance fiction, particularly in the Young Adult category, represents the diversity of the island's population. New works feature a broader spectrum of linguistic, racial and ethnic identities, as seen in Disha Bose's I Will Blossom Anyway and Zainab Boladale's Braids Take a Day. They also highlight a range of gendered identities and sexual desires, as with Jarlath Gregory's What Love Looks Like, Kel Menton's A Fix of Light and Ciara Smyth's The Falling in Love Montage. Love interests are more likely to have bodies that do not conform to traditional standards of beauty or ability, as in Carmel Harrington's My Pear-Shaped Life and Sally Rooney's Intermezzo. Some have claimed the consoling narratives of romance perpetuate false hope. But in a polarised world, these novels show us not only the risks and rewards of reaching out to others, and the power of emotional and physical intimacy, but also the roles that a community might play in the realisation of a happily ever after. Indeed, a global reading community is helping to give romance fiction its own happy ending. Through their purchasing power and their voices on digital platforms such as GoodReads, Bookstagram and BookTok, fans of romance fiction are advocating for the genre, helping to ensure it receives the respectful recognition it deserves. These books are also fun to read. Part of the pleasure stems from how authors cleverly revitalise recognisable storylines and tropes such as the love triangle or the second-chance romance – a fact evident in the many contemporary adaptations of Jane Austen's fiction, including the recent production of Emma staged at the Abbey Theatre. Such good feeling is reflected in the design of the MoLI exhibit. The objects on display tell fascinating stories about Irish romance, past and present; visitors are encouraged to flick through books and to listen to podcasts and interviews; informative quotes captured in speech bubbles and posted to the walls reflect the sense of community among romance readers, who in this case also happen to be well-regarded academics. Sally Rooney's Intermezzo is an example of where love interests are more likely to have bodies that do not conform to traditional standards of beauty or ability. Photograph: Simone Padovani/ Awakening/ Getty Images Progressive politics and pleasure are not mutually exclusive. As a scholar of Irish writing and an avid romance reader, I find it baffling that fictional representations of individuals finding love and feeling good have attracted such contempt. My decades-long academic career has been built on the rigorous study of formally complex books and plays about challenging issues. But I also enjoy the accessible and uplifting narratives offered by romance fiction. Truth be told, during the darkest days of the pandemic, I received a mildly unsettling email celebrating my status as among the 'top 1 per cent of Kindle romance readers worldwide,' so I know of what I speak. Like other readers of romance, I am not naive. These books and their happy endings do not seduce me into believing that everything is just fine and inevitably will work out for the best; I am, after all, a woman currently living in United States. Irish romance fiction frequently depicts suffering, loss, shame and sustained bad feeling – but it also shows us how people can endure those trials and even thrive. These stories suggest that consensual emotional and physical intimacy, and mutual gestures of care and attention, might help make the world a better place. Both romance fiction and Irish women's writing are flourishing, so this is the perfect time to revisit the genre's contributions. As in any written corpus, some of these books are great, while some are forgettable. Yes, romance novels are predictable in that they end happily. But for the record, no one criticises football matches when they end, as expected, on a grassy field rather than in outer space. The 'happily ever after' is not a generic failure, as Marian Keyes observed in our interview for RadioMoLI. It is simply where the author chooses to end the story. Happy Ever After: Falling in Love with Irish Romance Fiction continues at MoLI until November 9th Paige Reynolds is Professor of English at the College of the Holy Cross. Her latest book is Modernism in Irish Women's Contemporary Writing: The Stubborn Mode (2023) Irish romance fiction favourites - by curator Paige Reynolds By taking romance seriously, we revise certain long-standing misconceptions of Irish literature. Photograph: MoLI Kate O'Brien's Mary Lavelle (1936): Banned in 1936, this gorgeous novel depicts Mary's affair, while working as a governess in Spain, with the married Juanito. It is one of many Irish romances with an untidy HEA focused more on self-fulfilment than lasting romantic love. Emma Donoghue's Stir-Fry (1994): This insightful novel set in 1989 is a campus romance featuring lesbian characters. Read today, it reminds us of the rapid transformations in matters of gender and sexuality. Maeve Binchy's Tara Road (1998): Light a Penny Candle and Circle of Friends are Binchy's acknowledged masterworks, but I have a soft spot for this tale of an Irish and American woman swapping houses one summer: a potent reminder that romantic relationships are often opaque not only to outsiders, but to the people in them. Marian Keyes's Rachel's Holiday (1997) and Again, Rachel (2022): Two of my desert island books. Keyes realistically navigates Rachel's decades-long path of addiction and recovery, showing the support offered, in good times and bad, by her quirky family and her super sexy love interest, Luke. Anna McPartlin, Pack Up the Moon (2005): The term 'chick-lit' has a bad rap, but I love the early 21st-century romances from Poolbeg Press that show Irish women exercising their newfound spending power and sexual freedoms. This one focuses on healing from grief. Emer McLysaght and Sarah Breen, Oh My God, What a Complete Aisling (2017): Romance is one among many types of relationships in this first of the delightful Aisling series. When I first read it, I was impressed that a Brazilian appears among the cast of characters as a simple matter of fact – a confirmation that Irish romance fiction swiftly embraces and helps to normalise cultural changes. Sue Divin's Guard Your Heart (2021): Not many HEAs in Northern Irish romance, but this Young Adult novel set in 2016 is a smart, engaging account of two 18-year-olds from Derry (both born on the day the peace agreement was signed) who find love despite lingering sectarian discord. Caroline O'Donoghue's The Rachel Incident (2023): This is another campus romance, set in Cork. It cleverly spins a commonplace plot device found across Irish fiction, an affair between an older male professor and younger student. Naoise Dolan The Happy Couple (2023): Dolan's Exciting Times is more obviously a HEA romance, but in this second novel, she astutely (and hilariously) takes on the marriage plot with characters documenting the intricate path to Celine and Luke's wedding day. Sally Rooney Intermezzo (2024): In her fourth novel, Rooney reworks familiar tropes – the age-gap romance, the meet cute, star-crossed lovers – and grants her characters satisfying HEAs that fit the present day. Another favourite - by curatorial adviser Maria Butler Patricia Scanlan's City Girl (1990): This eighties-tastic novel was the first to apply the topics and themes found in the bonkbuster to a modern Irish context. Although parts seem a bit dated, it paved the way for everything we have now.

London Grammar at All Together Now 2025: A surprise duet and a rapturous ending from Saturday's headliners
London Grammar at All Together Now 2025: A surprise duet and a rapturous ending from Saturday's headliners

Irish Times

time5 hours ago

  • Irish Times

London Grammar at All Together Now 2025: A surprise duet and a rapturous ending from Saturday's headliners

London Grammar Main stage, Saturday ★★★★☆ London Grammar 's dreamy electropop has the quality of a lullaby performed at a rave, a combination of gently blissful melodies and blitzing beats that proves the perfect mix on night two of All Together Now . A lot has changed for the band since their last Irish festival performance, three years ago. Most notably, Hannah Reid , the band's singer, and her Irish partner have had a son, an experience that informed London Grammar's 2024 LP, The Greatest Love. That album was a not wholly successful attempt to push into new territory: the songs were slower and leaned more on Reid's powerful voice. There was lots to admire, but it lacked the rush of feeling that characterised formative hits such as the harrowing Wasting My Young Years. Tasteful and sometimes tedious, the record was not the stuff of thrilling festival sets, and in their Saturday headline slot London Grammar wisely focus on their older songs, beginning with the woozy double whammy of Hey Now and Californian Soil. READ MORE Reid, who has experienced stage fright, isn't a natural attention seeker. But she has a slowly fizzing charisma on the urgent How Does It Feel, a meditation from 2021 on the dark side of the music business. A charge sometimes directed at London Grammar is that their music is mannered to a fault. But no such accusation could be made against this gripping set. As well as their cover of Nightcall, by the noirish French producer Kavinsky – a hypnotic banger made to be listened to cruising down a motorway at 3am, and perhaps best known for soundtracking the opening credits to Nicolas Winding Refn's film Drive – the night features a surprise and moving duet between Reid and the Co Kildare singer Gemma Cox. It ends with the rapturous fade out of Lose Your Head, a chunk of sublime electronica that the band work into a techno belter. It's lapped up by an enthusiastic main-stage crowd. As the second night of All Together Now draws to a close, it's clear that London Grammar are speaking the audience's language.

CMAT at All Together Now 2025: This powerhouse set could be the performance of the festival
CMAT at All Together Now 2025: This powerhouse set could be the performance of the festival

Irish Times

time6 hours ago

  • Irish Times

CMAT at All Together Now 2025: This powerhouse set could be the performance of the festival

CMAT Main stage, Saturday ★★★★★ What a summer it has been for Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson, aka CMAT , the country-pop sensation from Dunboyne, in Co Meath. In June she accidentally conquered the internet after her tune Take a Sexy Picture of Me inspired a dance trend on TikTok dubbed the Woke Macarena. Shen then went viral all over again when the title track from her upcoming third album, Euro-Country, gave a starring role to the Omni shopping centre in Santry, in north Co Dublin. Euro-Country is a melancholy song about the ruinous death of the Celtic Tiger. But the lyrics burn hot as CMAT plays it for the first time at the end of her rollercoaster main-stage turn at All Together Now , which immediately stakes a claim as performance of the weekend. She explains that many of Ireland's present-day challenges are a result of the crash of 2008. How strange that such a seismic event has inspired so little art and instead been quietly put away in the psychological drawer Irish people reserve for Things We Don't Talk About. READ MORE Letting it get to my head @cmat 😔 But Thompson has plenty to say on Euro-Country as she conjures with the ghost of the follies of the boom years with lyrics about populist politics and the devastating aftermath. CMAT is a charismatic performer, and her music bears a lot more emotional weight than her upbeat persona might initially suggest. She opens with Have Fun!, a seemingly celebratory tune that takes as its starting point reports of parakeet colonies gone wild in London but is also about getting over a difficult break-up: she is smiling but with sadness in her eyes. All Together Now 2025: CMAT on stage on Saturday night. Photograph: Kieran Frost/Redferns All Together Now 2025: CMAT on stage on Saturday night. Photograph: Kieran Frost/Redferns There is humour, too. Her song The Jamie Oliver Petrol Station is inspired by her experience of seeing the television chef's likeness in motorway service stations across Britain. She grew to hate his grinning mug. The track is about her coming to terms with the fact that those emotions are her problem, not Oliver 's. Thompson isn't one for holding back. She laughs when someone in the crowd holds up a large 'CMAT for president' sign, written in Irish, and speaks passionately about the assault on trans rights across the western world. Saturday-evening sunshine has turned to shadows as the set draws to a close: the perfect metaphor for CMAT, the shiny pop star whose music glitters with dark depths during this powerhouse set.

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