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Children of the Troubles: The Untold Story of the Children Killed in the Northern Ireland Conflict
"The bullets didn't just travel in distance, they travelled in time. Some of those bullets never stop travelling." Jack Kennedy, father of James Kennedy
On 15th August 1969, nine-year-old Patrick Rooney became the first child killed as a result of the 'Troubles' - one of 186 children who would die in the conflict in Northern Ireland.
Fifty years on, these young lives are honoured in a memorable book that spans a singular era.
From the teenage striker who scored two goals in a Belfast schools cup final, to the aspiring architect who promised to build his mother a house, to the five-year-old girl who wrote in her copy book on the day she died, 'I am a good girl. I talk to God', Children of the Troubles recounts the previously untold story of Northern Ireland's lost children -- and those who died in the Republic, the UK and as far afield as West Germany -- and the lives that might have been.
Based on original interviews with almost one hundred families, as well as extensive archival research, this unique book includes many children who have never been publicly acknowledged as victims of the Troubles, and draws a compelling social and cultural picture of the era.
Much loved, deeply mourned, and never forgotten, Children of the Troubles is both an acknowledgement of and a tribute to young lives lost.
On 15th August 1969, nine-year-old Patrick Rooney became the first child killed as a result of the 'Troubles' - one of 186 children who would die in the conflict in Northern Ireland.
Fifty years on, these young lives are honoured in a memorable book that spans a singular era.
From the teenage striker who scored two goals in a Belfast schools cup final, to the aspiring architect who promised to build his mother a house, to the five-year-old girl who wrote in her copy book on the day she died, 'I am a good girl. I talk to God', Children of the Troubles recounts the previously untold story of Northern Ireland's lost children -- and those who died in the Republic, the UK and as far afield as West Germany -- and the lives that might have been.
Based on original interviews with almost one hundred families, as well as extensive archival research, this unique book includes many children who have never been publicly acknowledged as victims of the Troubles, and draws a compelling social and cultural picture of the era.
Much loved, deeply mourned, and never forgotten, Children of the Troubles is both an acknowledgement of and a tribute to young lives lost.
- GenresNonfictionIrelandHistory
464 pages, Hardcover
First published October 10, 2019
11 people are currently reading
131 people want to read
About the author
Joe Duffy
17 books2 followersJoseph "Joe" Duffy is an Irish broadcaster employed by Raidió Teilifís Éireann (RTÉ). He is the current presenter of Liveline, an interview and phone-in chat show broadcast on RTÉ Radio 1 on Mondays to Fridays between 13.45 and 15.00.
There is more than one author with this name on Goodreads. See also Joe Duffy.
There is more than one author with this name on Goodreads. See also Joe Duffy.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
January 4, 2021
Not only is this book wonderfully researched and laid out, it's also one of the most beautifully presented books I've ever seen. Full of full-page and increasingly common full-colour pictures, it's as much tribute as it is a closely researched look at an often neglected side to the Troubles. Whether it's a case of the deaths of children just being simply too dark to acknowledge in any detail, or the fact that these young lives get lost in the sheer volume of other deaths and scandals, I don't know, but it's a relief to know that something out there chronicles these lives. Some of the entries are detailed, with a photograph and testimony from the child's friends and relatives; others are short, lacking a photograph and drawing only from official sources, a poignant reminder that if not for that single entry in a book their names might never have been acknowledged again. Needless to say, this is heavy reading, but touching all the same.
When I first received this book, I got the inevitable over and done with -- I flicked to the entry for a friend of mine, beaten to death simply for being Catholic. We were all 14 or 15 years of age. His death changed everything I knew about the situation where I grew up: it was no longer something that happened in the background, or that the adults discussed in low voices, or that reached me from the TV in snatched moments of overhearing the news. I had grown up being told it was better now, that it was getting better all the time -- gone were the days of my early childhood, where my mother would snatch me up from the back garden and bundle me into the house to the sound of gunshots, or going with my parents to bombed-out shops to buy fire-damaged merchandise on discount. All of this cautious hope our parents had for my friends and I -- that we wouldn't experience this kind of horror -- was destroyed when Michael died. I remember feeling stunned for months. I remember wondering why it had happened, even though I knew what things were like in that country; what they had been like for decades. Suddenly everything was real, not just a way of life but something that could affect it as well, brought out of the background and into the present in complete and terrible clarity. A few months after Michael's death my parents needed to go to the town where it had happened for some shopping, and as we drove past the pizza place where he got his last meal, I broke down. I was unable to leave the car once we arrived at the shops; my parents brought me home, and I never set foot in the town again.
It is an incredibly surreal feeling to hold a book like this and look down at a picture of a person who isn't just a name or a statistic; knowing that he was included with all these other names brought home both the scope of grief contained in this book and the care and empathy shown in the telling of these stories. The Troubles often feel to me like some kind of strange nightmare -- growing up I accepted it all as normal, even as I knew that it wasn't. It was a way of life, it was just how things were, and how they had been for my parents as well. There was nobody around me who remembered a time before it was like that, and only when I moved away from Ireland for university did I realise just what an unusual upbringing I had. I was also shocked to find that outside of Ireland, barely anybody knows much about it at all. The fact that I carried with me this kind of background, and the loss of a friend when we were all only 15 years old -- all because of a situation that began decades before our birth -- was suddenly shocking to me. It's a relief to know that there are people out there dedicated to bringing these stories to light; that there's a account of this, proof that it happened and that every one of these victims were people who were loved and who were real.
When I first received this book, I got the inevitable over and done with -- I flicked to the entry for a friend of mine, beaten to death simply for being Catholic. We were all 14 or 15 years of age. His death changed everything I knew about the situation where I grew up: it was no longer something that happened in the background, or that the adults discussed in low voices, or that reached me from the TV in snatched moments of overhearing the news. I had grown up being told it was better now, that it was getting better all the time -- gone were the days of my early childhood, where my mother would snatch me up from the back garden and bundle me into the house to the sound of gunshots, or going with my parents to bombed-out shops to buy fire-damaged merchandise on discount. All of this cautious hope our parents had for my friends and I -- that we wouldn't experience this kind of horror -- was destroyed when Michael died. I remember feeling stunned for months. I remember wondering why it had happened, even though I knew what things were like in that country; what they had been like for decades. Suddenly everything was real, not just a way of life but something that could affect it as well, brought out of the background and into the present in complete and terrible clarity. A few months after Michael's death my parents needed to go to the town where it had happened for some shopping, and as we drove past the pizza place where he got his last meal, I broke down. I was unable to leave the car once we arrived at the shops; my parents brought me home, and I never set foot in the town again.
It is an incredibly surreal feeling to hold a book like this and look down at a picture of a person who isn't just a name or a statistic; knowing that he was included with all these other names brought home both the scope of grief contained in this book and the care and empathy shown in the telling of these stories. The Troubles often feel to me like some kind of strange nightmare -- growing up I accepted it all as normal, even as I knew that it wasn't. It was a way of life, it was just how things were, and how they had been for my parents as well. There was nobody around me who remembered a time before it was like that, and only when I moved away from Ireland for university did I realise just what an unusual upbringing I had. I was also shocked to find that outside of Ireland, barely anybody knows much about it at all. The fact that I carried with me this kind of background, and the loss of a friend when we were all only 15 years old -- all because of a situation that began decades before our birth -- was suddenly shocking to me. It's a relief to know that there are people out there dedicated to bringing these stories to light; that there's a account of this, proof that it happened and that every one of these victims were people who were loved and who were real.
November 10, 2019
Heartbreaking.
May 21, 2023
I bought this book at Books Upstairs when I was in Dublin last year and it has taken me since then to finish it. The reading is difficult because the material is quite heavy and the book is also literally heavy (1.8 kgs/4 lbs), so it's not one you can easily carry with you.
It's a beautiful tribute to the children's lives lost in the Troubles. Each child gets their moment to have their life story told--not just how they died. Each child's story (for most) also include quotes from parents, siblings, friends, neighbors, etc., who provide a person glimpse into who that child was. The stories told are heartwarming, but also devastating when you know that a few paragraphs further, their life-story will abruptly end.
Two things bugged me the most with this book. First was the set up of essays mixed into the chronological telling of every child's story in order of death date. The essays are well written and tie the children into the overarching story of the Troubles, however, they are not positioned effectively. Oftentimes we hear additional stories about a child 100 pages after their moment, or we see pictures and hear stories of a child that we won't meet for another 150 pages. Having them closer or the essays at the beginning (with a note to the mentioned child's story), would provide much needed clarity. Also, it provides context for the reader to better understand each child's individual story. The fact that the "Young Combatants" essay is 321 pages into the book (out of 407), once we're already in 1990 for the death year, means one misses a lot of context that would've been useful for those killed in 1970's and 1980's.
Second thing that bugged me was the authors' age used to define a child. For the purpose of this book, anyone killed in the Troubles, who was 17 or older at the time of their death, is considered an adult, "Aside from age-16 or under-our only criteria have been that in each cases we believe the child's death was as a result of the Troubles" (xx). 16 was the age that a child could leave school (and many in this book did), so I can understand that as a potential basis. However, this also means that often you have a 17 year old killed with a 16 year old and the 16 year old gets a page in this book while the 17 year old is just a line in that 16 year old's story...especially considering that the authors state later in the book age limits for joining some Troubles era organizations, "In theory, 17 was the age limit for joining the IRA; in practice this was not always adhered to" (326). On page 324, it lists 4 members of the Fianna in Ardoyne that were killed. Remember, Fianna is the youth wing. 3 of those killed were 16, they're in the book. The other was 18, so Joseph McComiskey doesn't get his moment--even though he is considered in the youth wing. Two pages later, the book references the story of John Dougal, as told by his younger brother Jim, and how blurred the lines of membership and adulthood were: "'In all the memorials you'll see John referred to as Fianna,' says Jim Dougal, 'but when John was killed, John was in the IRA. A Well-known republican came to the house and said, 'We can't claim his as a volunteer, he's too young,' so he was put down as Fianna'"(326). This blurred age line between youth and adult is reflected here as well. While the authors' ignored the deaths of 17 year olds as children, they included in the book, and counted as children, unborn "children"--even if the "child" never took a breath out of the womb. I'm not here to start a "when does life begin debate", but it is something I found particularly interesting. Think the age cut off should be reconsidered, especially when unborn "children" are included.
Some of the quotes from this book will stay with me and I wanted to include some here:
"The bullets that killed James didn't just travel in distance, they travelled in time...Some of those bullets never stop travelling" (342) [Jack Kennedy, father of James Kennedy].
"Molly recalls her youngest daughter Tina, who was only seven when Danny was killed, asking, 'Do you think they've given our Danny his breakfast in Heaven?'
'I'm sure they did, aye,' said Mollie.
'What would they give him?', asked Tina.
'Do you know your first Holy Communion that you made?' Mollie said. 'Well, I think that's what Danny'll be getting in Heaven for his breakfast.'
'Mammy,' said Tina, 'you'd better go back to Heaven and get him, for he hates that Holy Communion'" (290).
It's a beautiful tribute to the children's lives lost in the Troubles. Each child gets their moment to have their life story told--not just how they died. Each child's story (for most) also include quotes from parents, siblings, friends, neighbors, etc., who provide a person glimpse into who that child was. The stories told are heartwarming, but also devastating when you know that a few paragraphs further, their life-story will abruptly end.
Two things bugged me the most with this book. First was the set up of essays mixed into the chronological telling of every child's story in order of death date. The essays are well written and tie the children into the overarching story of the Troubles, however, they are not positioned effectively. Oftentimes we hear additional stories about a child 100 pages after their moment, or we see pictures and hear stories of a child that we won't meet for another 150 pages. Having them closer or the essays at the beginning (with a note to the mentioned child's story), would provide much needed clarity. Also, it provides context for the reader to better understand each child's individual story. The fact that the "Young Combatants" essay is 321 pages into the book (out of 407), once we're already in 1990 for the death year, means one misses a lot of context that would've been useful for those killed in 1970's and 1980's.
Second thing that bugged me was the authors' age used to define a child. For the purpose of this book, anyone killed in the Troubles, who was 17 or older at the time of their death, is considered an adult, "Aside from age-16 or under-our only criteria have been that in each cases we believe the child's death was as a result of the Troubles" (xx). 16 was the age that a child could leave school (and many in this book did), so I can understand that as a potential basis. However, this also means that often you have a 17 year old killed with a 16 year old and the 16 year old gets a page in this book while the 17 year old is just a line in that 16 year old's story...especially considering that the authors state later in the book age limits for joining some Troubles era organizations, "In theory, 17 was the age limit for joining the IRA; in practice this was not always adhered to" (326). On page 324, it lists 4 members of the Fianna in Ardoyne that were killed. Remember, Fianna is the youth wing. 3 of those killed were 16, they're in the book. The other was 18, so Joseph McComiskey doesn't get his moment--even though he is considered in the youth wing. Two pages later, the book references the story of John Dougal, as told by his younger brother Jim, and how blurred the lines of membership and adulthood were: "'In all the memorials you'll see John referred to as Fianna,' says Jim Dougal, 'but when John was killed, John was in the IRA. A Well-known republican came to the house and said, 'We can't claim his as a volunteer, he's too young,' so he was put down as Fianna'"(326). This blurred age line between youth and adult is reflected here as well. While the authors' ignored the deaths of 17 year olds as children, they included in the book, and counted as children, unborn "children"--even if the "child" never took a breath out of the womb. I'm not here to start a "when does life begin debate", but it is something I found particularly interesting. Think the age cut off should be reconsidered, especially when unborn "children" are included.
Some of the quotes from this book will stay with me and I wanted to include some here:
"The bullets that killed James didn't just travel in distance, they travelled in time...Some of those bullets never stop travelling" (342) [Jack Kennedy, father of James Kennedy].
"Molly recalls her youngest daughter Tina, who was only seven when Danny was killed, asking, 'Do you think they've given our Danny his breakfast in Heaven?'
'I'm sure they did, aye,' said Mollie.
'What would they give him?', asked Tina.
'Do you know your first Holy Communion that you made?' Mollie said. 'Well, I think that's what Danny'll be getting in Heaven for his breakfast.'
'Mammy,' said Tina, 'you'd better go back to Heaven and get him, for he hates that Holy Communion'" (290).
May 19, 2021
I found this very confronting and hard to read. At the same time, I agree with the authors that it is important to remember these children and the pain of families. Such wars have no victors but a lot of losers. We read so we can commit to living at peace with our neighbours, no matter our differences.
July 8, 2020
A painfully powerful book where children murdered in the North of Ireland many by the state become so much more than grim statistics
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews