
50 years of women's writing: The 21st century – a boom time... or is it?
women's writing
of the past 50 years, tracking its recognition and visibility, and in the 21st century there has been undeniable progress.
Irish women have fared exceptionally well, with
Anne Enright
and
Anna Burns
winning the Booker Prize,
Lisa McInerney
and
Eimear McBride
the Women's Prize; and the rise and rise of the cultural phenomenon that is
Sally Rooney
. Literary gatekeepers, it would seem, have seen the error of their omission and moved to rectify it.
It would be cause for celebration were it not for the pesky numbers. In the past 25 years, there have been 17 male
Booker Prize
winners to 10 female, two of whom had to share. That's a ratio of almost 2:1, or to spell it out, two great male writers to every great woman writer. In the 21st century.
Other prizes tell a similar story. Since 2000, nine women have won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction compared to 16 men (two shared).
READ MORE
The Baillie Gifford Prize for Non-Fiction (formerly the Samuel Johnson), first awarded in 1999 and billed as the UK's premier annual prize for non-fiction, boasts just eight women winners to 17 men. The shortlists tell their own story: 98 men were shortlisted compared to 50 women, and on only three occasions did a shortlist feature more women than men. These three years boasted a woman winner. Coincidence? No. Shortlists matter. It goes without saying that this year's 25th anniversary one-off 'winner of winners' was a man.
The Pulitzer General Non-fiction prize did no better: eight women, one shared with a male winner, to 19 men. (Literary prizes only seem to be shared when there's a woman involved.) It's almost as if subjects of interest to women historians and biographers and journalists could not possibly be of interest to anyone else.
Once again, the Women's Prize took up the slack, introducing a non-fiction prize in 2023. Writer and broadcaster
Kate Mosse
, announcing the launch of the prize, said it was 'not about taking the spotlight away from the brilliant male writers, it's about adding the women in'.
You can't argue with the numbers, yet so often that is precisely what happens. To those who would claim that one doesn't need gender balance on every shortlist and panel as long as it evens out in the long run, know this: it never evens out. The counts tell us this again and again: the VIDAs; #WakingTheFeminists' gender analysis of Irish theatre; Anne Enright's 2017 London Review of Books essay, Call Yourself George (fun fact: VIDA, in 2016, found that the London Review of Books had 'the worst gender disparity' in its reviews, with women representing only 18 per cent of reviewers and 26 per cent of authors reviewed).
If we are to even pretend that we consider women writers equal to men, gender balance is needed in every literary journal, every newspaper review section, every prize list, long and short: everywhere.
Eimear McBride, author of A Girl is a Half-formed Thing, which won the 2014 Women's Prize for Fiction. Photograph: Bryan O'Brien
In spite of a system stacked against them, 21st-century women writers flourished. For this woman writer, books kept me sane (by 2008 I had four children), and finally, after an extended apprenticeship, I wrote a couple myself. My PhD on women writing trauma kept me firmly in the zone, with a focus on Eimear McBride's singular novel, A Girl is a Half-formed Thing,
and its astonishing stage production directed by Annie Ryan.
There are too many books to talk about in this period, so I will pretend there is a gun to my head and I must choose just two. The Baillie Gifford in 2004 could not overlook Australian Anna Funder's brilliant Stasiland: Stories from Behind the Berlin Wall, which sheds light on life in the German Democratic Republic (GDR), 'the most perfected surveillance state of all time', where it was estimated that there was one informer for every 6.5 citizens.
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Funder placed an ad in a newspaper asking to speak to former members of the secret police force, the Stasi, and received an overwhelming response. Following leads that took her to the most unexpected of places, she writes about the women 'who sit in Nuremberg puzzling together the shredded files the Stasi couldn't burn or pulp', and East Germans such as Sigrid Paul, who found herself on the opposite side of the wall to her baby, who was being cared for in Westend Hospital in West Berlin.
Stasiland is not a history, trotting out impersonal facts; rather, it's a collection of essays, and essays digress. Deploying what Edward Hoagland calls the artful 'I' of an essay and other tools of fiction, Funder weaves her own story through the book, revealing life in the GDR in engaging, witty and often highly personal prose, joining the ranks of the many women essayists who made their mark over the timespan of this series: Susan Sontag, Joan Didion, Anne Lamott, Annie Dillard, Rebecca Solnit, Roxane Gay, Rachel Cusk, Sinéad Gleeson and Emilie Pine, to name but a few.
The Booker got it right with
Milkman, Anna Burns' 2018 novel, which was also named best Irish fiction title of the 21st century in a recent Irish Times survey. I would go one further and take out the word Irish. Milkman is an extraordinary feat of telling the truth, slant, to invoke Emily Dickinson.
Who knew that one of the most insightful and enlightening voices of the Troubles would be that of an unnamed teenaged protagonist who likes to read while walking? 'The day Somebody McSomebody put a gun to my breast and called me a cat and threatened to shoot me was the same day the milkman died,' it begins, and if you haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for?
The category and methods that have largely defined this series – women and counting – show that progress has been made, albeit from a very low base, yet the gender gap in the literary field stubbornly remains. Not only are women authors seen as producing literature of lower literary value – literary prizes hammer this home again and again – there is even a gendered genre hierarchy.
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The Wardrobe Department by Elaine Garvey: Evocation of youthful self-discovery is well wrought and truthful
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Dutch researcher CW Koolen uses computational analysis and other methods to demonstrate that so-called 'chick lit', usually perceived to have been written by women, is seen as of lesser quality than spy or thriller novels, usually perceived to have been written by men. Counting is dull work, but as long as we live in societies that value and prioritise men's voices and experiences over women's, it remains necessary.
(Space does not allow for distinctions of race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, class, economic status, age, education, disability, etc, of the writers discussed in this series, but 'woman' is not a monolith, and over the past 25 years, across forms and genres, women writers have provided essential global sociopolitical perspectives.)
This series has been about accountability, but it has also been a celebration of brilliant writing by women that informs, entertains, provokes and inspires. Women like myself, writing in the 21st century, owe an enormous debt of gratitude to our literary foremothers – the essayists, poets, dramatists, critics and novelists – of the past 50 years.
Leaning into my personal fiction bias, what other 21st-century flavoured novels would I press into your hand? In no particular order: Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk About Kevin; 2003's Adolescence; My Year of Rest and Relaxation – the ultimate Millennial read, in which Ottessa Moshfegh's unnamed narrator spends most of the novel sleeping (yet we're still talking about it); Room
by Emma Donoghue;
Zadie Smith's White Teeth; Jane Urquhart's The Stone Carvers; A Visit from the Goon Squad
by Jennifer Egan – playing with all the forms;
the Neapolitan novels, of course, by pseudonymous author Elena Ferrante (translated by Ann Goldstein), starting with My Brilliant Friend
in 2012; The Weekend by Australian author Charlotte Wood; Theory and Practice
by
Sri Lankan-Australian author Michelle de Kretser, for anyone who has ever experienced the dubious pleasures of literary theory with a capital T; and
there are so many more.
Looking back has been a joy. And now I'm looking forward: here's to the next 50 years of women's writing.
Paula McGrath is a novelist and assistant professor of Creative Writing at UCD
Reading list
Stasiland
by Anna Funder (2004) – pulling back the Iron Curtain one essay at a time.
Wifedom: Mrs Orwell's Invisible Life
(2024) – yes, I'm sneaking in Funder's novel, too. Wifedom combines the biography of Eileen O'Shaughnessy, wife of George Orwell, with personal memoir, exploring for both women what it means to be a writer and a wife.
Milkman
by Anna Burns (2018) – the GOAT, in this writer's humble opinion.
Generation (2015) and A History of Running Away
(2017)
by Paula McGrath – because if you liked this series, you might enjoy the novels ...
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Irish Times
8 hours ago
- Irish Times
Whales in Irish waters face a new threat
Almost a quarter of a century ago, west Cork skipper Colin Barnes gave up commercial fishing to set up one of Ireland's first whale-watching businesses. Now whales have left his search area of the ocean because the sprat they feed on have been fished to near extinction. Barnes recently told The Irish Times he can no longer offer 'world-class whale-watching.' Sprat are clearly being overfished. Objectors in Co Cork plan a march this month against this uncontrolled exploitation. The protest will take place in Clonakilty on Wednesday, August 13th. According to Dr Simon Berrow of the Irish Whale and Dolphin Group (IWDG), whales are moving farther north in Irish waters, probably following changing fish distribution. Thankfully, the Government has resolved to impose a ban from October 1st on the trawling of sprat in Irish inshore waters by vessels over 18 metres in length. READ MORE Among the most spectacular of these giant visitors are the humpback whales, which breach right out of the ocean. The overfishing of one of their main foods could mark the second time in more than a century that whales have come under threat in Ireland. [ Why are Ireland's whales disappearing? Opens in new window ] Few Irish people are aware that this country was once the base for a Norwegian whaling operation that killed and butchered hundreds of great whales from the Atlantic Ocean. I have been to visit the site of this whalemeat factory on the island of South Inishkea off Co Mayo. Here, on the little promontory of Rusheen, lie the remains of an industrial operation based on the giants of the ocean. More than a century after they were abandoned, the brick walls and rusting machinery of the whaling station lie dismembered in the ocean winds. A second station was built on the Co Mayo mainland at Ely Bay but little trace remains apart from a scattering of bricks. Whaling boats from these two locations killed and brought back to Ireland a total of 693 whales of six species over a seven-year period from 1908 to 1914. The most numerous quarry species comprised fin whales but it is hard to believe they managed to catch 66 blue whales, rarely seen in Irish waters but now gradually increasing again in the Atlantic. This fascinating history was researched by the Belfast zoologist James Fairley and described in his book Irish Whales and Whaling. The outbreak of war in 1914 put an end to the whaling operation, although the Ely Bay station was briefly used in 1920 and 1922, during which a further 202 whales were caught. Commercial whaling was banned in 1986 by the International Whaling Commission (IWC) after some species almost became globally extinct. Norwegian, Icelandic and Japanese vessels still hunt whales today but most other countries have banned this barbaric activity. In the early 1990s, then taoiseach Charles Haughey declared Europe's first Whale and Dolphin Santuary in Irish territorial waters. Although it is difficult to estimate population sizes in these animals due to their long migrations, there are signs of recovery in some species. In the 20th century sightings of the distinctive humpback whale in Irish waters were rare. However, since 1999 the IWDG has been collecting humpback whale data in Ireland including sightings by ordinary citizens. [ Ireland's 'hotbed' for whales who have migrated from southern waters Opens in new window ] With ready availability of high-quality cameras, at least 137 individual humpback whales have now been identified from their markings. The repeat matching of photos has confirmed many of these individual whales return to Irish waters annually, with an average resighting rate of about 63 animals in years when 10 or more individual whales were recorded. Dr Simon Berrow says: 'Clearly humpbacks are increasing due largely to an end to killing them and their distribution might also have been affected by climate change . Fin and sperm whale populations may possibly be recovering too. 'Grey whales were extinct in the Atlantic but are now recolonising as the population expanded through the opening up of the Northwest Passage from the Pacific due to climate warming. Among the smaller species, there has been a big increase in common dolphin numbers in Irish waters due to a shift in their distribution rather than a population increase.' The historic whaling operation in Mayo ended when the last whaling station was destroyed by fire in 1923. Still, the demise of this local industry was probably hastened by the replacement of whale oil with fossil fuels that still largely power our economy today. Now it is their key food species that is under threat in our waters. More than three decades after Irish waters were declared a whale and dolphin sanctuary, the unrelenting fishing of sprat here may be more than these giants of the ocean can survive. Richard Nairn is an ecologist and writer. His latest book is Future Wild: Nature Restoration in Ireland


Irish Times
8 hours ago
- Irish Times
Thought fuchsia and montbretia were native Irish plants? Think again
It's humbling to think how many of the different varieties of plants growing in our gardens, allotments, parks and public outdoor spaces are the legacy of previous generations. That much-loved variety of fruit tree? Very likely the work of plant breeders and nursery owners of the Victorian era. Your favourite rose? A thousand unknown hands and hundreds of years of expert plant selection almost certainly played a skilled role in bringing it into existence. Your favourite variety of daffodil, rhubarb, lilac, clematis, dahlia, beetroot or potato? The very same. On the other hand, it's chastening to consider how our insatiable hunger for new, exciting kinds of plants has inadvertently introduced species to parts of the world where some have subsequently become invasive, disrupting fragile, biodiverse ecosystems and threatening native plant habitats. Montbretia's super-tough underground structure enable it to withstand all but the most challenging growing conditions. Photograph: Getty Images Here in Ireland, for example, visitors to our little island could easily assume that the ribbons of scarlet-flowered, shrubby fuchsia (Fuchsia magellanica) and orange-flowering montbretia (Crocosmia x crocsmiiflora) that gaily festoon the damp roadsides, ditches and hedgerows of mild coastal counties such as Kerry and west Cork are native, when in fact nothing could be further from the case. READ MORE Instead, the former is a deciduous shrubby species hailing from South America that first arrived in Ireland back in the 1820s, and which, while technically not formally classed as an invasive, is surely close to being so. The latter, most definitely invasive, is a vigorous and remarkably resilient perennial from South Africa. Montbretia's super-tough underground corms allow it to withstand all but the most challenging growing conditions, making this naturalised hybrid perennial very difficult to control and almost impossible to eradicate once established. Japanese knotweed was introduced into Europe as a much-admired ornamental plant and a fodder crop. Photograph: Getty Images These are just two of a growing number of non-native species whose exceptional vigour and ability to outcompete other plants threatens the delicate balance of vulnerable ecosystems in the wild Irish countryside. Others include: Japanese knotweed (Reynoutria japonica, formerly known as Fallopia japonica); giant hogweed (Heracleum montegazzianum); various non-clumping or 'running' kinds of bamboo, including certain species of Sasa, Sasaella, Pseudosasa, and Phyllostachys; the sprawling evergreen periwinkle known as Vinca major; Rhododendron ponticum; and the appropriately named mile-a-minute vine (Fallopia baldschuanica). Many of these names will be familiar to you already. Type the words Japanese knotweed into any search engine, for instance, and it's certain to come up with an array of articles detailing how this stately perennial plant was introduced into Europe both as a much-admired ornamental plant and a fodder crop. You can read about how, in 1847, it was awarded a medal by the society of agriculture & horticulture at Utrecht for being 'the most interesting new ornamental plant of the year'. And how William Robinson, the famous Irish man who looms large in the history of garden design, described it as 'handsome in rough places'. Dig a bit deeper and you can learn about how the Japanese knotweed plants that now populate large swathes of wasteland, roadside verges and river edges throughout Europe and the US are almost all clones, vegetatively propagated, of a single female parent. Sent to Kew Gardens by the German physician, plant hunter and explorer Philipp von Siebold, it quickly escaped into the greater London area, from where it leapfrogged its way across the city's parks, gardens and wilder spaces into the wider world. Giant hogweed was introduced into Ireland during the Victorian era. It can threaten the stability of river banks as well as human health. Photograph: Getty Images Such are its powers of vegetative reproduction (thankfully it doesn't yet spread by seed), that just a single root fragment can grow into a sizeable plantation within a few years, with the power to potentially undermine roads, driveways and building foundations. It has, without overstatement, been described as the supreme weed, and yet astonishingly was still being sold in Irish garden centres as an ornamental plant right until the 1980s. Many other similarly invasive species were introduced as ornamental plants for garden ponds, but now pose a serious threat to Ireland's waterways. Examples include New Zealand pygmyweed (Crassula helmsii), whose dense, floating, carpeting growth habit is having a devastating effect upon native species by suppressing growth and germination, thus reducing the amount of oxygen in the water. Gunnera Tinctoria, Giant rhubarb, can clog waterways and crowd out native species. Photograph: Getty Images Another is the giant rhubarb, Gunnera tinctoria, whose ability to clog waterways and crowd out native species is notorious. So is giant hogweed, another 'garden escape' that I wrote about in a recent column. First introduced into Ireland during the Victorian era, it can threaten the stability of river banks as well as human health. American skunk-cabbage, yet another once-highly prized garden ornamental perennial (Lysichiton americanus), which was adored for its statuesque growth habit and giant yellow flowers, has also become naturalised in some parts of our waterways. Such is its potential negative impact upon vulnerable ecosystems that the European Union has banned its sale and cultivation. It's easy to think of the story of invasive plants like these as a solely historic one belonging to the era of the great plant-hunters of the 18th, 19th and early 20th centuries. But that would be misguided. Gardeners' curiosity and desire for novelty remain a constant and are now coupled with easy access to an often-bewildering range of species that can be purchased online as plants or seeds, sometimes from irresponsible nurseries or private gardeners blithely unaware of their potential dangers. Others are occasionally smuggled home in hand luggage from trips abroad. While the vast majority won't become invasive, there's always the risk that a handful will. Assessing the true scale of that risk is challenging, especially in the light of climate change, where constantly evolving growing conditions can lead to certain species gaining a foothold. For example, it might be a surprise to many to discover that the popular ornamental deciduous species known as tree of heaven (Ailanthus altissima) is on the EU's invasive alien species of union concern. This means that it can't be imported, traded, or released to the wild, while measures must also be taken to prevent the spread of existing populations. While there are no records of it having naturalised in Ireland so far, this could change. If we're to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past, then it's clear that gardeners have a key role to play. Practical measures include: sourcing plants and seeds responsibly; avoiding planting non-native species in the wild (this is illegal); avoiding accidentally allowing the seeds and root fragments of invasives to be transported outside our gardens and allotments; and taking decisive action when and if we find an invasive or potentially invasive plant species has inadvertently made its way into our garden or allotment. It's by no means an easy task, admittedly, but an important one. For a more detailed overview of invasive plant species, as well some excellent plant guides, see , , and This week in the garden Keep dahlias regularly deadheaded and liquid-fed, and make a point of regularly shaking any dropped petals off the foliage and stems to prevent disease setting in and spoiling the display. Lavender bushes should be lightly sheared back at this time of year after the flowers have faded, removing all the flower stems along with roughly 2cm-3cm of the top growth. This will help to keep the plants bushy and encourage a great display of their fragrant blooms next summer. But always avoid cutting back hard into old wood which can shock and even sometimes kill the plants. Dates for your diary Farmleigh House Plant Fair Phoenix Park, Dublin; Sunday, August 3rd (10am-5pm). Stalls by many members of the Irish Specialist Nursery Association, and a craft and food market, admission free, see . Wild Garden Adventures: Pond Dipping National Botanic Gardens, Glasnevin, Dublin 9, Wednesday, August 6th. A hands-on practical workshop exploring 'the weird and wonderful diversity of insects and mini-beasts living in and around the ponds at the National Botanic Gardens'. Suitable for children aged eight and over, pre-booking essential, see . Irish National Vegetable Championships The Showgrounds, Moate, Co. Westmeath, Sunday, August 24th (10am-5pm). The annual championship takes place as part of the Moate Agricultural Show and includes a new junior category. See for schedule and entry form.


Irish Times
8 hours ago
- Irish Times
Red kites have thrived since reintroduction, but motorists remain a threat to their safety
A passing cyclist recently spotted this distressed bird outside my gate, having been struck by a car while feasting on a pigeon. Apart from the large visible tags, the bird was also ringed and I was able to pass the codes to the relevant authorities via Birdwatch Ireland . We also notified an OPW ranger who collected the bird from the garden. I am told it's a kite. These are common in the area and very impressive in flight. I hope he survives. Nigel Murtagh Well, it won't be your fault if it doesn't; you did all the right things. Red kites were once a common bird of prey in Ireland but became extinct as a breeding bird by the 19th century due to poisoning and shooting. They were reintroduced to Wicklow in 2007, to Co Down in 2008 and to Fingal in 2011. They are breeding here now. Nestlings are ringed and given wing tags that allow them to be identified in flight. As well as catching their own prey, they will feed on dead rats, thus accumulating rodenticides and coming into contact with roadkill. This exposes them to speeding cars. The ichneumon is harmless, apart from where caterpillars are concerned. Photograph: Úna Smart This fellow was about an inch long and very thin. It had bright yellow legs and a yellow and brown abdomen. It crawled across my foot as I sat earlier in Mullaghmore, Co Sligo. We wondered if he was some kind of Japanese hornet. Úna Smart What on Earth makes you think there would be a Japanese hornet in Mullaghmore? Neither the Japanese hornet nor the larger sub-species, the Asian hornet, are seen in Ireland or Britain. The creature you have just slandered is a harmless ichneumon, Amblyteles armatorius. Harmless that is, unless you are a caterpillar on which it lays an egg, as the emerging larva will eat the caterpillar alive from the inside out. READ MORE Comma butterflies are relatively new to the Irish landscape. Photograph: P McGinty This comma butterfly landed on my windowpane on a sunny day in mid-July. I have never seen this species in these parts before. P McGinty, Balbriggan Comma butterflies are indeed a new addition to our butterfly fauna. They were first recorded here in Wexford's Raven Nature Reserve in 2000 and were breeding in Carlow by 2011. They have now spread widely due to a warming climate and have been recorded in every county except Donegal and Leitrim. Caterpillars feed on nettles and there are two broods per year. It overwinters as an adult, emerging to breed the following spring. This cluster of fossilised crinoid stems formed about 350 million years ago. Photograph: Frank Folan I found this on the shore near Claggan on Clew Bay in Mayo. Is it a fossilised coral? The rock looks like limestone. Frank Folan, Ballyvaughan This is a fine example of a cluster of fossilised crinoid stems in carboniferous limestone, which was formed 350 million years ago. Crinoids are sea creatures that lived in the shallow tropical sea waters covering Ireland at the time. They were in the group of sea animals called echinoderms – their modern relatives are sea cucumbers and sea lilies. When these crinoids died they became embedded in the lime mud, which solidified into the limestone rocks we find in parts of the Clew Bay area and more famously in the Burren. The bank vole is a common mammal in Ireland. Photograph: Anita Fennelly This little creature is round and a lovely chestnut colour and was sitting on the road by the Barrow Estuary here in Ballinlaw, Co Kilkenny. According to the unsolicited suggestions I keep getting from the artificial [so-called] intelligence on my phone, it is either a bog lemming from Canada or a Californian vole. Hmm! Don't think so! Cad é? Anita Fennelly, Slieverue, Kilkenny Glad you have the wit to doubt this rubbish. It's a bank vole, which is a common small mammal here. Please submit your nature query or observation, ideally with a photo and location, via or by email to weekend@