New Irish Communities

A Word from our Facilitators

Mark Granier

“The New Irish Communities (NIC) scheme, funded by Dublin City Council, was launched in October 2013. A year later, I was invited to take over, and it has been a privilege to contribute to such a vibrant and growing initiative. The original goal was to offer a series of creative writing workshops for non-native English speakers, a mission that continues to be at the heart of the programme. A few years later, the poet and tutor Jean O’Brien came on board, and it has been a delight to collaborate with her in its development. However, it is the enthusiasm and dedication of the participants that has truly exceeded expectations. Many have seen their work published in anthologies, read at literary festivals, and featured on RTÉ Radio. Recently, some have even launched poetry collections with leading Irish publishers such as Dedalus and Gallery. Most crucially, almost everyone who has participated in NIC appears to have found it rewarding, and many have stayed with the scheme, returning year after year to participate in the sessions and make this writing community truly special. I began with the modest intention of introducing a few people to texts or poems that were hopefully interesting, and getting them to do some writing exercises. The experience is a bit like scattering a few seeds, then turning around to find an oak grove standing there. It has been deeply gratifying to have a hand in establishing NIC, and long may it flourish.”

Mark Granier has an MA in Poetry from Lancaster University, and has taught poetry and creative writing at The Irish Writers’ Centre and UCD for many years. Some of his former students have had work broadcast on RTE and been published by major Irish poetry presses. Granier’s awards include two Patrick and Katherine Kavanagh Fellowships, The Vincent Buckley Poetry Prize and several Arts Council Bursaries. His sixth collection, Everything You Always Wanted To Know, was launched by Niall MacMonagle and published by Salmon Poetry in April 2025.

Jean O’Brien

“The New Irish Communities (NIC) scheme was in full flow when poet and tutor Mark Granier asked me to join, a number of years after he had taken the reins. It was a wonderful idea and I was delighted to be asked to help shape it into what it has become today, a vibrant and growing initiative funded by Dublin City Council.

The idea was that non-native English speakers be offered a series of rolling workshops, that they could dip in and out of as circumstances dictated. Over the  years it has grown and blossomed, with a core group staying with us developing and flourishing, some have had their work taken up by main stream Irish publishers, others have broadcast on RTE National Radio and local stations. Their work has been performed at open mics, festivals, and included in anthologies, they have been chosen for the Poetry Ireland Introductions initiative, while others have gone on to do degrees and one of them is currently pursuing a PhD.

Many participants keep in touch for years, others dip in and out; some have even formed sub-groups and stay in touch as friends as well as fellow writers. Often after classes we decamped to local hostelries. It is wonderful that so many have found the group a haven for their work. Recently we celebrated the NIC by holding a reading in Irish Writers Centre on 28 June 2025 for all who wanted to showcase their work to family and friends. Long may it run and prosper.”

Jean O’Brien has six collections of poetry, from Salmon Publishing Ireland, her latest book is Stars Burn Regardless (2022). An award winning poet she won the prestigious Arvon International (UK) and the Fish International, she has been shortlisted and placed in many others, most recently in the Bridport Prize (UK) placed & shortlisted.  She was poet in residence in the CCI in Paris and was awarded a Patrick Kavanagh fellowship. She has run courses in the Irish Writers Centre for over twenty years and tutors at post graduate level. She holds an M.Phil from Trinity College, Dublin.

Rafael Mendes

Rafael began as a member of the New Irish Communities and has been a NIC facilitator for the past two years.

“The story of how and when I first attended the New Irish Communities (NIC) has been fictionalised as memory fails me. In 2018, or possibly 2019, following an ambitious goal of writing in a second language, in which I had rudimentary proficiency, I attended a session led by Mark Granier, perhaps Jean O’Brien.

Without ever surrendering to rigorous feedback and attention to the development of my craft, Jean and Mark demonstrated unwavering gentleness and humour whenever my grammar hindered my poetry. Thanks to them and my fellow writers, I remained confident in this goal of becoming an English-language poet.

The crystallisation of the NIC’s significance for Irish contemporary literature was realised when many participants were included in Writing Home: The ‘New Irish’ Poets, published by Dedalus Press. Since then, many participants have become relevant figures in the literary scene.

In 2021, as I worked full-time while pursuing a full-time MPhil programme at Trinity, I couldn’t be physically present in the community but shared the joy of their success. In 2022, having received a scholarship to pursue a PhD, my participation shrank further.

Yet, I never stopped writing. How could I? During those Saturday mornings at the Irish Writers Centre, encouraged by that community and by the talent and generosity of those poet-mentors, I decided to be a writer, to improve my craft, to have some time in my day to be in writing mode, not to be satisfied with a first draft, not to give up with rejections, and to foster more communities.

Since then, my work has been published in magazines such as Poetry Ireland Review and Poet Lore, I was selected for Poetry Ireland 2023 Introductions Series, and my pamphlet, The Migrant Dictionary (Howl New Irish Writing), has been chosen as a co-winner of the Ireland Chair of Poetry Series 2025. Despite recognising the merit of these achievements, they are less gratifying than returning to the New Irish Communities as a facilitator. By inviting a former NIC member to lead a session, the Irish Writers Centre afforded me a chance to retribute to the community, to Jean, and Mark.

While I felt particularly anxious on that Saturday morning, as new and long-time members walked into the room, this feeling rapidly morphed into sheer excitement. It wasn’t a sudden realisation that I was prepared to do this, which I was, but rather the recognition of my privileged position: being in a room where I could share what I know about writing, discuss craft, propose writing exercises while witnessing my community creating with words.

So, for anyone whose English is not the first language, come along one day: I’m sure you’ll have a nice time.

Rafael Mendes is a Brazilian migrant based in Dublin. His poetry is upcoming in Poetry Ireland Review and Poetry Salzburg Review. He has been selected for Poetry Ireland‘s 2023 Introduction Series and was awarded the Irish Writers Centre/Tyrone Guthrie Centre Lacuna Bursary 2023. His pamphlet, A Migrant Dictionary, was the co-winner of the Ireland Chair of Poetry Pamphlet Series 2025.

New Irish Communities Showcase 2025

Jean O’Brien and some of our New Irish Communities members took part in our Showcase on 28 June 2025.

The featured readers included Anthony Kelly, Lola Le Guan, Valentina Tosi, Pat Béna-Hanly, Luciana Lynch, Ángeles Mañueco, Fabiana Reis, Sandy Seeber-Quayle, Xanda Monteiro, Yinka Parm, Edgard Wentz, Marc Gijsemans, and Luisa Di Somma.

Every month, the Irish Writers Centre will highlight the work of the New Irish Communities members.  You can read contributor Pat Béna-Hanly’s piece below!

I get a kick out of dictionaries

Free to let the words flow, away from everyone, surrounded by old possessions and forgotten things, the attic is where I can write.

– Tells us about yourself, how long have you been in Ireland?

– I don’t count the years anymore, I came in nineteen seventy-nine.

I would feel the weight of the years, the time passed as a flash, amassed into a ball of fuzzy memories we were encouraged to recall during class. My pen would hesitate, I never did that exercise before.  I find myself reflecting on my life in Ireland, considering how much I have changed along the way. Reminiscing feels like exploring a mythological life, me as the hero, one event leading to the next.

– So, you’ve become more Irish than the Irish themselves.

This expression to this day puzzles me, it whispers in riddles unlike a word that speaks outright. When I arrived in Ireland in 1979, with my school English, my bilingual dictionary in my pocket, I would listen to conversations among my new found circle of friends, standing at a bar, sipping my tomato juice all night, picking up what I could in the noisy, dark, smoky atmosphere of the Irish pubs, occasionally musical but only by choice. It was like listening to a foreign radio. From the cacophony of words certain ones stood out. To the difficulty due to poor vocabulary, I had to grapple with the Dublin accent too. The melody of the language getting into my head, some recurring sounds would come up in middle of the sentences with a sense of urgency. The same words would close a statement with such intensity, I imagined they must have been of importance. When I asked, everybody laughed. They laughed to discover their own way of saying things. It is very Irish I was told, depends on where the person comes from, mid lands, south… “Ye know like”…“Like ye know”. Just as salt and pepper are added to enhance the flavor of a dish. I never learnt that in school and certainly not in a dictionary.

I later surprised myself you know like, using the expression. I wonder how Irish I have become and what it means. Look it up in the dictionary. I hated it when Maman told me this when I was a kid, it would have been so easy to give me the answer. In time I understood she didn’t have the knowledge; she had left school at thirteen and she was covering up. Papa was educated but was too busy. Our school results mattered a lot to his father, my grandfather. He offered us money as a reward, but I winced when he requested my school reports. However, I developed an attraction for the big fat heavy book sitting on the shelf in my father’s office. I used to dip in looking at pictures. So at eighteen, with the birthday money I got from my grand-father, I bought my first dictionary. A Larousse 1975. He hoped one day I would read the entire volume, that was his advice. Start with the letter A. And I did. He was in his seventies and had read it all.

I acquired my first serious French English dictionary on Christmas eve 1983 in Dublin. Unfortunately, on the same day it was stolen from my fluorescent green Deux Chevaux (Deudeuche), the only one in town, along with the rest of our presents. It was parked on Fownes Street Upper, at a time when unpaid parking fines piled up in my glove compartment, a time when Temple bar was still dilapidated and the buses came flying through Fleet Street, Temple Bar and Essex Street at a hundred miles an hour. We had gone to Moran’s Pub, now the Ha’penny Bridge Inn, to meet friends. The next year I moved on to an English Chambers ‘84. Now I have an Oxford French English ’94. Over the years I collected second hand English dictionaries, Merriam-Webster ’88, Oxford ‘93, Chambers ’99, Collins 2000, one for every corner of the house. This fascination with dictionaries goes hand in hand with my fascination for old objects and history, as words carry historical baggage.

During my summers in France, I use to go to a “Vide grenier” the equivalent of a car boot sale. There, displayed on the pavement and make shift tables, framed World War two medals beside a ceramic piss pot, clockwork toys, hand coffee grinders, obsolete household appliances, lacy cotton night dresses, clogs beside a neglected breton hat with its flappy ribbons, each item its own particular smell. Exploring the market felt like glimpsing my ancestors’ world through a keyhole. One day, I found an orange dictionary. On its cover, “Nouveau Petit Larousse Illustré”, inscribed in art nouveau font. Clouds in the background, in the center, the face of a woman in profile with wavy long hair. Letter A. Achenes from a dandelion are blown away by the woman, each grain spreading sparks of knowledge in the wind, giving the idea of growth. Mister Larousse had a vision. 6 200 engravings, 140 maps. Inside the cover, a green field of dandelions. Second edition 1925, my grandfather was nineteen, was it possible he read that same edition? Once to hand, it fell opened to reveal a full page of engravings at letter V. Véhicule. All the while my mind was busy calculating, anticipating the bargaining to come. Amongst the engravings, I spotted the kind of limousine my father talked of in describing the car my grandmother was driven in as a child. Page after page, words I never heard before as usual, but also words that are no longer in use for what they represent has become irrelevant, words whose meaning has changed.

Letter W. Words come and go with time, culture and usage, they help construct our perception of reality.

Letter L. Language is like shifting sand, it shapes our subjectivity, how we think, feel and engage with the changing world around us.

I never found out much about my grandfather’s past, he never talked about it but one of the family myths about him or claim to fame, was that he educated himself in order to rise above his station, so he could marry the woman he loved, my grandmother. From car mechanic, he rose to chief conservator of waters and tropical forests in the French South Americas and even wrote a book on the subject. He did climb the social ladder for sure, but his love for my grandmother was more about her beauty, her literary passion and her fingers dancing on the piano he afforded to buy her to impress guests at evening parties. 

How much have I changed? More Irish than the Irish themselves. That’s what the English said about the Normans settlers in Ireland, the Anglo-Irish. They embraced their culture, adopted their way of life, learnt their language, intermarried. So, the English invented the word Irishness to describe Ireland and its people’s character.

Letter C. Colonisation. In an attempt to prevent alliances with native Irish, they made laws and over time they concocted characterisations to describe their differences in derogatory terms, “Savage Irish” being one, to justify domination and control, imposing a racial hierarchy and strip people of dignity. The picture of my grandfather as a young man, somewhere in the Ivory Coast, pith helmet on with his “boy” in the background, comes to mind.

What kind of Irishness have I acquired? Nowadays, it is the net, Oxford English Dictionary.

Letter I. “Irishness, n. the fact or quality of being Irish; Irish character or identity”. Uninvited stereotypes lurking in my unconscious present themselves. Letter H. Heuristic, mental shortcut. The brain tends to categorise and simplify information for quicker processing, sustaining and perpetuating stereotypes. “Irish character”, subjective, left open to interpretation, spurs me to explore further. This time, I grab my old dictionaries. For a word that has crossed centuries, no definition nor mention of Irishness in any of them except one. At this point I realise that Word Document in my old computer doesn’t recognise it either. I get the bug.

Letter D. When the British compiled dictionaries, in the 18^th century onwards, which Irish people still rely on, Irishness never entered, in the same way Frenchness never did either but for good reasons as it didn’t exist, unlike Irishness. Why did it make a late entrance, in the 90s?  

Letter L. Lexicographers include new words in a dictionary when they are used frequently and widely, across various sources and have meaningful use. The Internet is a powerful tool, I wish sometimes, I had it available to me when I was younger.

Letter F. Frequency Statistics based on printed books from 1500, offer a glimpse of its cultural journey. Looking at the graph, from 1800, signs of use, but the occurrence of Irishness plateaus at a low level until 1900, although the word was on every one’s lips concerned with empire. A slight, steady increase occurs at this stage, reflecting the influence of the Irish revival, Irishness being its central concept. For the first time, Irish people explore what it means to be Irish, regain a sense of identity, self-esteem. From then on, leading to the war of independence, the civil war, a slight steady rise until 1950, at which point a new Irish pride ignites the Irish mind after Devalera through Lemass and takes off as the Irish diaspora from one side of the water to the other keeps growing. From the 60s on, the curve rockets through the seventies and the troubles, 80s more emigration, 90s Celtic tiger and Peace Agreement as the question remains vital especially within the island of Ireland, into the millennium and to this day the Irishness curve has not reached its zenith.

Letter I. In Chambers ’99 (First published in 98), under the category Irish, subcategory Irishness, definition. “… n I’rishness, the quality or characteristics of Ireland or the Irish.” So, what are the characteristics of the Irish in 1998 according to Chambers?  

“Irish I’rish, adj. relating to, produced in, derived from, characteristic of, Ireland; self-contradictory, ludicrously inconsistent (as Irish thought and speech is traditionally supposed to be; facetious, rather offensive). – …” In comparison to “Brit’ishness, ..”, mentioned but no definition. “Irish thought” “supposed to be” is this in reference to old stereotypes vehiculated by Irishness over the centuries of data compilation?

Letter E. Empire. It sounds like at a time when Irishness sought its own sovereignty alongside Britishness, the British Empire’s days and prejudices were kept alive in 1998, year of the peace agreement. You could say that it still does, just recently, the American ambassador to Israel criticised the Irish stance on Palestine, suggesting the Irish had fallen into “a vat of Guinness”, asking the Irish government “to sober up” talked about an “act of diplomatic intoxication”. Words indeed, carry an historical baggage.

I am sure, when I am told I am more Irish than the Irish themselves, it is a compliment. The Irishness here refers to the spirit of the Irish revival rather than the habits of the Savage Irish. My father who spent most of his youth abroad often said that no matter where I am, I will remain true to my ancestors and I will also gain from the other cultures and make it my own, like he did. I guess that’s what Irishness is about for me. Irishness remains in flux and nowadays, in a distinctly multicultural Ireland, it needs to be reaffirmed in news ways. It needs to be heard, shared, discussed, whispered, printed, distributed, owned. It is available to anyone who has a plausible affinity with Ireland. Irishness is like a lake you slowly become immersed in. It has contributed to who I am now and I am irreversibly steeped in it at this stage.   

 Bio:

I am a Franco-Irish writer in the process of editing a historical coming-of-age novel in French. Over the last few years, I have been attending the NIC Program, which has been a great help to me to now write English with confidence. I investigate real and perceived memory, examine its influence in the present, as well as its precarious role in the future.