The problem with reviewing books on local history is that many of them do not qualify as history but rather as nostalgic reminiscences. Not that there is anything wrong with genuine, heartfelt reminiscences - indeed, many such books contain valuable folk memories, local lore and genealogical information. But their merit is often marred by their limited vision and their tendency to isolate the subject from wider contexts.
No such strictures inhibit Kilkenny to Murrisk, by Rosemary Garvey (published by the author, £8.75). This well-written history of the Garvey family ranges from west Mayo (home of the Garveys for "ten or more generations") through Armagh (where one John Garvey was Archbishop from 1589 to 1594) to Normandy (location of the famed Garvey Bodega de San Patricio), Jamaica, Moscow and Madras.
Rosemary Garvey's late husband, Terence, was sometime British Ambassador in Belgrade and Moscow and retired to Dadreen in west Mayo in 1975. His contribution to this interesting family chronicle, about Edmund Francis Garvey and his role in 1798, is but one of many highlights in a most readable book which will interest not just Garveys everywhere but also anyone with a liking for unusual family history.
The story of another noted western family is related in The Royal O'Connors of Connaught, by Patrick O'Connor (Old House Press, Swinford, £7). This clan, claimed to be among the oldest in Ireland, produced eleven High Kings of Ireland and twenty-six Kings of Connaught. The family split into three distinct branches - O'Connor Roe, O'Connor Sligo and O'Conor Don. This is an informative, albeit concise account of the family. However, although the author cites seven secondary sources for his data, he does not indicate in the text what information comes from which source - a drawback if any O'Connors (or O'Conors) wish to pursue a study of the family.
With a title like Asses' Colts and Loving People (Carlow Methodist Church, £12), Rev. Dudley Levistone Cooney is bound to attract attention to his "story of the people called Methodists on the Carlow Circuit", which included Kilkenny and Waterford as well as parts of neighbouring counties. The book is essentially a history of the local Methodist Church with consequent interest for people of that persuasion, particularly in the areas mentioned. The title comes from a comment by John Wesley after preaching in the Sessions House in Carlow in 1767 to "a numerous company": "The greater part of them were like blocks, and some like wild asses' colts. I was constrained to reprove them sharply. They received it well, and behaved with more decency."
The history of another people largely identified by their religion is found in The Scots-Irish in the Carolinas, by Billy Kennedy (Causeway Press, no price given). This, the third book in Kennedy's series on the northern Irish Presbyterians who colonised the Tennessee hills and the Shenandoah Valley - and the Carolinas - relates in detail the story of those hardy pioneers who tamed what was then the wilderness of the American frontier. One of the thirteen original English colonies in North America, North Carolina was the first state of the Union to declare independence from Britain on April 12th, 1776, and some of the decisive battles of the American War of Independence were fought in the state.
Kennedy's book, while giving much factual information about the Ulster Presbyterians who settled in the Carolinas (incidentally, they called themselves Irish, not Scots-Irish, at the time), lacks background enlightenment as to why they left Ireland in the first place - "religious persecution and economic deprivation", says the back-cover blurb and leaves it at that. A people which gave thirteen of the forty-one Presidents of the United States deserve greater attention to their origins and the factors which compelled them to emigrate.
The Ireland, and especially the Ulster, which they left behind were soon to be engulfed by revolution, sectarianism and agrarian disorder. Mainly to combat the latter, baronial police were established in rural Ireland in 1773 and augmented in 1792 by so-called "Barnies" (called after one Barry McKeown, a well-known member). In 1814 the "Peelers" were sat up, followed in 1822 by the County Constabulary. In Belfast, however, there was a separate, municipally-appointed force, nick named the "Bulkies", from 1816 to 1865.
This latter force is the subject of The Bulkies: Police and Crime in Belfast, 1800-1865, by Brian Griffin (Irish Academic Press, £27.50). A scholarly and heavily annotated work, this book is nevertheless entertaining in its detailed descriptions of Belfast's efforts to control crime in its many 19th-century manifestations - burglary, prostitution, theft, drunkenness and rioting. According to the Northern Whig, on various dates in 1824, 1827 and 1829 Cornmarket was "a scene of frequent brawls, blasphemous imprecations and obstructions from women squatted like Indian squaws on the pavements while they sold herrings and vegetables".
The "Bulkies" had to deal with more serious matters also, such as the sectarian riots of 1857 and 1864 after which charges of partisan behaviour were made. Griffin writes: "They undoubtedly were central in spelling the end for a force whose members were drawn disproportionately from one section of the community." Who says history does not repeat itself?
The "Bulkies", incidentally, apparently got their name from the men's bulky appearance when they wore capes, although the term "bulky" in reference to a policeman was already in use in England.