Born in Boyle, Co. Roscommon, Patrick Moran lived most of his adult life in Dublin where he took an active part in the GAA, the Gaelic League, the Trade Unions and the Irish Volunteers. He was an active participant in the 1916 Rising and was deported to England after the surrender. On his return in August 1916 he renewed his interest in football and hurling, became a founder member of the Grocers, Vintners and Allied Trades Assistants and he helped to reorganise the Volunteers in Dublin and in his native Roscommon. He was arrested following the assassinations of British Intelligence Officers in Dublin on Bloody Sunday, 21 November 1920, and was finally charged and convicted by a court martial for the murder of Lieutenants Ames and Bennett. He was executed by hanging in March 1921 amid calls from civil and religious leaders for the King of England to exercise the Prerogative of Mercy in an upsurge of overwhelming belief that he was innocent. But was he?

"2022 is the centenary both of the founding of the Irish State and the publication of James Joyce's Ulysses. In this book, which describes a more radical edge than previous treatments of Joyce, Luke Gibbons counters much of the Joyce and modernism scholarship, while challenging popular historical accounts of events from 1913 to 1923. He takes up two, widely held notions: first, that Joyce and his writerly contemporaries were set apart from events in Ireland of the period, especially during the writing of Ulysses; and second, that Joyce was not appreciated in his native Ireland at the time, and only came to widespread notice as he was embraced by non-Irish critics much later in the century (during the 1980s and 90s). In contrast, Gibbons here shows multiple points of intersection between the modernist avant-garde and figures and events in the Irish Revolution. As Gibbons suggests, the Ireland of Joyce and Ulysses was the same culture that produced the Easter Rising and the Irish Revolution. How is it, he asks, that societies "not yet modern" are able to produce breakthrough works in modernism? Gibbons here redefines the Easter Rising as a modern event, not a belated, resurgent mythic gesture of a bygone Romantic Ireland. By reconceiving the revolution as modern, not as the revival of Celtic pride, as earlier studies claim, Gibbons is able to connect Joyce to other, forward-facing projects, to Yeats's radically conceived Abbey theater, for example, or the Victorian Gael of Standish O'Grady and the insular Catholic nationalism movement. He also places Joyce in a wider modernist community of artists and thinkers, including Bertolt Brecht, Ernst Bloch, Alfred Döblin, and Hermann Broch, and beyond Europe to writers in America, among them, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Marianne Moore, H. L. Mencken, W. E. B. Du Bois, and Claude MacKay. Thus Gibbons recasts what has gone before in a new, unexpected light, placing Ulysses and the Irish Revolution, not at the end of a process or an Irish "renaissance," but at the beginning of global decolonization, a new way of understanding Irish history at the turn of the century, and Joyce in the context of world literature. The book will be read-and contested-by scholars of modern Irish history and the development of modernism across the arts"--

Hot on the heels of Killing at its Very Extreme, Dublin: October 1917 – November 1920, Someone Has to Die for This, Dublin: November 1920 – July 1921 wrenches the reader into the final frenetic months of Dublin's War of Independence, in uncompromising, unflinching, and unprecedented detail. The reader will follow in the footsteps of IRA assassination units on Bloody Sunday, witness the hellish conditions in Croke Park, taste the gripping tension that stalked the city as intelligence services battled it out over the winter, while equally clandestine peace feelers were set in play. The pressure ratchets up in 1921 as surging IRA Active Service Units take the fight to the Auxiliaries, police and military in Dublin. Swathes of the country erupt into violent attacks and barbarous reprisals. Killings escalate in daily ambushes. Prison escapes are vividly detailed, as are the Mountjoy hangings. Shuttle diplomacy intensifies as a settlement is desperately sought, but fault lines develop among the Republican leadership. Street-battles paralyse the city with civilians bearing a brutal burden; the IRA relentlessly presses on. The devastating Custom House attack precedes the war's ferocious final weeks, culminating in a near bloodbath that almost scuppered the truce. Experience these breathtaking events through the eyes of their participants. This is an unforgettable story, its style providing long-overdue justice.

This book explores the lives and deaths of over 300 men, women and children buried in Dublin's Glasnevin Cemetery who died due to the War of Independence and Civil War. Detailed research brings their stories together for the first time with first-hand accounts of those who witnessed and participated in these historical conflicts. Through the exploration of seemingly ordinary burial records, extraordinary events are revealed. Unfolded are stories of ambushes, informers, assassinations, spies, executions, raids, mutiny and bombings, together with ordinary members of the public, caught up in extraordinary events.

Killing at its Very Extreme takes the reader to the heart of Dublin from October 1917 to November 1920, effectively the first phase of Dublin's War of Independence. It details pivotal aspects at the outset, then the ramping up of the intelligence war, the upsurge in raids and assassinations. Vividly depicting mass hunger-strikes, general strikes, prison escapes, and ruthless executions by the full-time IRA 'Squad', amid curfews and the functioning of an audacious alternative government. Intensity builds as the reader is embedded into Commandant Dick McKee's Dublin Brigade to witness relentless actions and ambushes. The authors' unprecedented access lays bare many myths about key players from both sides. The tempo escalates with deployment of the notorious Black and Tans and Auxiliaries, as well as a host of cunning political and propaganda ploys. Desperate plights and horrific reprisals are portrayed, the effects of mass sectarian pogroms and killings. Tthe sacking of Balbriggan, the killing of Seán Treacy, the death of Terence MacSwiney, and the capture and execution of teenager Kevin Barry. As in the authors' previous works the pulsating tension, elation, fear, desperation, hunger, the mercy and the enmity leap from the pages. The harrowing circumstances suffered by those whose sacrifices laid the bedrock for modern Ireland, and whose own words form the book's primary sources, are recounted in unflinching detail.

During the War of Independence, faced with an armed insurrection it couldn't stop, the British government introduced increasingly harsh penalties for suspected republicans, including internment without trial. This led to the incarceration of thousands of men in camps around the country, including the Rath and Hare Park Camps at the Curragh in County Kildare. Interned is the first book to tell the story of the men who were held in the Curragh internment camps, which housed republicans from all over Ireland. Faced with harsh conditions, unforgiving guards and inadequate and often inedible food, the prisoners maintained their defiance of the British regime and took whatever chances they could to defy their gaolers, including a number of escapes. The most audacious of these was in September 1921, during the Truce period, when sixty men escaped through a tunnel. This unique book is the first to investigate the Curragh Internment Camps, which housed thousands of republicans from all over Ireland. It contains a list of names and addresses of some 1,500 internees, which will be fascinating to their descendants and those interested in local history, as well as an exploration and details of the 1921 escape, which was one of the largest and most successful IRA escape in history.

Dublin was the cockpit of the Irish Revolution. It was in the capital that Dáil Éireann convened and built an alternative government to challenge the authority of Dublin Castle; it was where the munitions strike that crippled the British war effort in 1920 began and it was where rival intelligence organisations played out their deadly game of cat and mouse. But it was also a city where ambushes became a daily occurrence and ordinary civilians were caught in the deadly crossfire. Restrictions on travel, military curfews and the threat of internment would ultimately make normal life impossible. As in his previous work, A City in Wartime, Pádraig Yeates uncovers unknown and neglected aspects of the Irish Revolution, including the role that the Bank of Ireland played in keeping the city solvent, the rise of the Municipal Reform Association to challenge the hegemony of Sinn Féin and Labour, how one of Ireland's leading businessmen started out as a bagman for Michael Collins and how, ultimately, many Dubliners found it easier to sympathise with the fight for the Republic than participate in or pay for it.