Out of Print

The Green Book 6

Published: October 2015

So far The Green Book has been avoiding Mr. Bram Stoker. Not out of dislike or animosity, but for a journal that hopes to illuminate the lesser seen corners of Irish fantastic literature, I felt it was okay to let Stoker—our most prominent spokesman—wait patiently in the wings for the first few issues and allow others the spotlight for just a moment. But now that we’re six numbers in, it’s time to give Mr. Stoker his due and allow him to take centre stage. And so we pull back the red velvet curtains on this issue in grand style. It’s …

The Green Book 5

Published: April 2015

“In Ireland we have a national apathy about literature . . . It began to descend on us after we became self-governing; before that we were imaginative dreamers.” – A.E. to Van Wyck Brooks (10 October 1932) So wrote the poet, painter, and mystic George William Russell (1867-1935)—better known by his spiritual name A.E.—less than a year before he left Ireland after a lifetime working to enrich a nation he loved and dedicated himself to. Yet his vision of Ireland as an enlightened society was seemingly at odds with the mass desire for the cultural censorship and social conservatism that …

The Green Book 2

Published: October 2013

As I write this, the newly constructed bridge spanning the River Liffey here in Dublin remains yet unnamed. The short-list is comprised of five Dubliners and includes trade unionist Rosie Hackett, who participated in the 1913 Lockout; and camogie player Kay Mills. But one name among them will stand out to devotees of horror and gothic literature the world over: Bram Stoker. Since Dracula was chosen for One City, One Book in 2009, public awareness of Stoker’s connections with Ireland (he was born in Dublin, so he was!), and Irish acceptance of his importance to world literature, has approached fever …

The Green Book 1

Published: April 2013

“To my young fellow-countrymen, at home and in exile, in the cottage and the mansion, amidst the green fields and in the crowded cities, soon to be the men of Ireland, I dedicate this little book . . .” – Alexander M. Sullivan, The Story of Ireland (1883) This journal’s inception arose from a series of questions that I’ve long pondered and often asked others: Is there a tradition—a traceable pedigree or lineage of dialogue—in Irish fantastic literature? And if so, in what way might it be defined? How has it developed over the centuries? What are the connections, if …