Monthly Archives: April 2011

What do I know? (Or, why I need to give up post-modernism and live an irony-free life)

One theory holds that Northern Irish poets ‘share elements of an outlook – ironic, stylish, suspicious of obvious sincerity’ (Martin Mooney In the Chair), but in fact when I was growing up, all the best culture was like this: ironic, referential and – God help me – ludic. In the 1990s, the films of the Cohen brothers and Quentino Tarantino played in multiplexes as well as art house cinemas, and I can’t have been the only one who was too young to appreciate their references and flirtation with pastiche, but enjoyed them anyway. More

Clare Gallagher: Domestic Drift

A grassy dome littered with tiny flowers sits in the middle of an earthy path.  The scale, at first, is confusing: is this a small mountain, or raked leaves in a garden?  A plastic shark and an orange ball balance, equally improbably, on irregular, glassy waves in what must be a paddling pool, or part of a child’s toy. More