Exercise: Fictionalizing history
FinsburyParkCarrots
Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
Please read this:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irish_Potato_Famine_%281845-1849%29
Research as much as you like on the topic, and please write a piece of prose, poetry or drama set historically at the time of the famine. You could write from any perspective: A starving Irish countryman, woman or child on the land; an emigrant preparing to flee to America; or an English politician or statesman. This exercise is a test of how you take historical data and shape it imaginatively.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irish_Potato_Famine_%281845-1849%29
Research as much as you like on the topic, and please write a piece of prose, poetry or drama set historically at the time of the famine. You could write from any perspective: A starving Irish countryman, woman or child on the land; an emigrant preparing to flee to America; or an English politician or statesman. This exercise is a test of how you take historical data and shape it imaginatively.
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it is challenging, especially for an american in kansas.. if i am allowed to interject personal observations of poverty (i did not live in poverty, however, i did observe poverty) from my youth, i will do the research and compose a poem..
fins is one tough professor!!
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
Well, you could write from the perspective of an Irish immigrant arrived in Kansas City during the famine!
on a side note, i had some RedBreast Irish Whiskey today in Toronto, and it was spicy-scrum-didily-umptious.. [in combo with the bloody-mary i had for breakfast on the boat-over and the Molson Red i had with lunch afterwards;)]
sorry, sometimes i just can't help myself.. AND I"M STILL HOPING NEIL COMES OUT TO PLAY THE TORONTO SHOW!!!!!!!
There is a town in north Ontario,
With dream comfort memory to spare,
And in my mind
I still need a place to go,
All my changes were there.
Blue, blue windows behind the stars,
Yellow moon on the rise,
Big birds flying across the sky,
Throwing shadows on our eyes.
Leave us
Helpless, helpless, helpless
Baby can you hear me now?
The chains are locked
and tied across the door,
Baby, sing with me somehow.
Blue, blue windows behind the stars,
Yellow moon on the rise,
Big birds flying across the sky,
Throwing shadows on our eyes.
Leave us
Helpless, helpless, helpless.
see Ed's church?--he's breathing fire.....
I can't feed my family
no potatoes to grow
how did I even survive it, I dont know.
No potatoes to sell
gotta make a living doing something else
no potatoes for half a decade
think how much vodka that could have made.
Tom Pendergast was the son of Irish immigrants and he ran Kansas City's political machine well into the 20th Century. His influence on the U.S.A. was subsequently felt when Harry Truman became President. Truman was a cog in the Pendergast political machine which controlled K.C. during his time. Starving Irish immigrants in KC due to the famine? I'll check it out.
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
I'm Irish. Funnily enough.
I'm Irish.....funnily enough.......
said with just the right amount of British sarcasm
(ps.....if I have time, I'll do this one.....no pormises)
nice.
.....
read that again today, makes me laugh
So can projectile missiles. :cool: In Ireland in 1845-50 I think you'll find whiskey in its variant forms was the drink being made from spuds. This exercise is about researching the historical info and turning it into art.
It's beautiful. Thankyou.
I thought poteen or pocheen was the potatoe drink, 100% proof rocket fuel. Ireland did distill the first whiskey though, bushmills, I think somewhere near giants causeway in antrim. I visited the distillery, was first used by warriors to give them courage. apparently.
Mr Layden stood in their street, he had wanted to show himself at least and maybe say something. He did not say anything but he thought sadly and bitterly that he had no choice.
They lifted their cart, one on each side at the front. Their children sat unsmiling on the cart, their legs hanging over the end and made it easier. They faced back toward their home and watched Mr Layden who was ashen and grew smaller.
As this is a Treasury Department meeting, you will all be privy to extremely confidential material. Davis, (who was Spalding's kind of retriever dog), please pass out the information. (Davis almost jumps out of his skin, as he had completely switched off, and starts handing out papers to the other people). Spalding continues with more authority....what you see before you is the Treasury's forecast for the next 5 years, taking into account the recent conflagration in Africa, and keeping in mind that situation is not resolved, and also taking into account how over-extended we are in India. Frankly, gentlemen, the Empire is exceedingly stretched currently, and (with all the aplomb of an elephant, he dropped this little gem to those cherry-picked civil servants present), and we have decided to maintain a light approach to the Irish situation, which frankly is their own fault. (Some grimaces met this statement, and more nervousness, but Spalding looked only at Reynolds, who had an expression of strength, which although it gave Spalding some courage, only added to the sense of rivalry with this brilliant underling of his). Reynolds, please enlighten us on the public stance that the Ministry would like to take.
And Reynolds stepped up. The Minister for Her Majesty's Territory of the Island of Ireland, (Hibernia), announces that currently Her Majesty can offer no practical help to Her Irish subjects due to conflicting demands elsewhere in Her Majesty's territories, and has complete faith that those Irish subjects will be able to turn their fortunes around in good time.
Spalding's mouth dropped. He'd seen the figures, thousands dying every day, and this is what the Ministry wanted to offer. He looked around the room, to see the expressions of the heads of department from different Ministries, and realised that this would be a catastrophe. His career might be over, if he ever had one. Reynolds on the other hand, was as solid as a rock, and with a twinge of envy, he realised that Reynolds had that kind of sang froid that would make him a star in the civil service. Davis, of course, was dumbfounded, as was everybody else present. They all thought that they were called to the meeting to discuss measures to alleviate the problem in Ireland, but it seemed a blind eye was the order of the day. Spalding trying to recover his composure, said 'well, that's it boys.....there you have it......no need to extend the meeting any longer, when we have the word from the top, but, please, not a word to the Press, except for the official dictum.....
(I am completely plagiarising The Constant Gardener which I'm reading right now in tone etc......don't worry kids......I don't steal money, I only steal lines
I want to see some more attempts at this from people! Then I'll put mine up, but not before.
Da always danced funny in his Guinness shoes and he would makes us laugh by telling us that Ma looked better when he was wearing his Guinness goggles. But Ma was always quick with the tongue though and told Da that the only thing he would get tonight was a piece of her cold shoulder. We had no idea what cold shoulder was, but it sounded nice. Any food sounded nice though.
All my friends kept going to heaven and it was because they needed some dinner. If only Ma had enough cold shoulder, then everyone would have been alright.
p.s. written in the same time it'll take you to read it...so you don't have to tell me how pish it is.... don't phone its just for fun
I must admit I laughed out loud at that one. It reminds me of a dirty story my Dad likes to tell me about the old days in Mayo, "and makin' prick holes in the bog to keep warm".
Nice!!!
Its a shame that the typed sentence can't convey the warmth and humour of the Irish accent....