Literature of Northern Ireland

Literature Of Northern Ireland

Literature of Northern Ireland may include literature written in Northern Ireland and in that part of Ireland before the partition of the island of Ireland and literature written by writers from Northern Ireland. It includes literature in English, Irish and Ulster Scots.

The impact of Irish nationalism that led to the partition of the island of Ireland in 1921 means that literature of the Republic of Ireland is not considered to be British - although the identity of literature from Northern Ireland, as part of the literature of the United Kingdom, may fall within the overlapping identities of Irish and British literature where "the naming of the territory has always been, in literary, geographical or historical contexts, a politically charged activity". Writing from Northern Ireland has been described as existing in a "double post-colonial condition" being viewed as not British enough, not Irish enough, and (for writings in Scots) not Scottish enough to be included in consideration within the various national canons.

The identity of literature of Northern Ireland is as contested as the identity of Northern Ireland itself, but Northern Ireland writers have contributed to Irish, British and other literatures as well as reflecting the changing character of Northern Ireland society. As Tom Paulin put it, it should be possible "to found a national literature on this scutching vernacular".

Read more about Literature Of Northern Ireland:  History, Literature in Irish, Literature in Ulster Scots, Literature in English, Poetry After 1922, Poetry After World War II, Belfast Literature, Derry Literature, Writers From Northern Ireland

Famous quotes containing the words northern ireland, literature, northern and/or ireland:

    ... in Northern Ireland, if you don’t have basic Christianity, rather than merely religion, all you get out of the experience of living is bitterness.
    Bernadette Devlin (b. 1947)

    Poe gives the sense for the first time in America, that literature is serious, not a matter of courtesy but of truth.
    William Carlos Williams (1883–1963)

    You’ll wait a long, long time for anything much
    To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
    And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
    Robert Frost (1874–1963)

    Come, fix upon me that accusing eye.
    I thirst for accusation. All that was sung.
    All that was said in Ireland is a lie
    Breed out of the contagion of the throng,
    Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die.
    William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)