It is the city of Dublin’s misfortune to be administered by a council that appears to hate its own citizens and by a government bureaucracy whose vision is to see the entire cityscape redeveloped as one big hotel. There is a feeling that, post-pandemic, the city is enduring a malaise – its purpose seemingly focused on addressing the whims of tourists rather than the needs of its own citizens – so it can be easy to overlook what makes Dublin great.
Dublin is a city blessed by the quality of its storytellers and historians, and it surely has few more ardent champions that the indefatigable Donal Fallon. In “Three Castles Burning: A History of Dublin in Twelve Streets”, Fallon sets out to tell the story of the city through the prism of a dozen districts and thoroughfares. Through these twelve streets (a chapter focusing on each one), he explores the key themes in the development of Dublin city, from commerce and trade unionism, radical republicanism, the city’s brewing tradition, policing and firefighting, feminism, Catholicism and censorship, through to the battle to conserve Dublin’s archaeological and architectural treasures.
What makes “Three Castles Burning” such a lively, enlightening read are the connections that Donal Fallon sketches. Who else could draw the links from Vietnamese immigrants to the 19th century campaign for Home Rule, and on to the 1974 Dublin and Monaghan bombings, with the D1 techno record label ... and all through the inauspicious environs of Parnell Street East? Through these associations, Fallon illuminates streets that people like me have been blithely traipsing for decades.
Taking in a span of over 1,000 years (dodgy millennium celebrations notwithstanding), “Three Castles Burning” presents morsels even the most knowledgeable Dubliner may not be familiar with. The origins of that time-honoured phrase synonymous with Dublin chippers - “a one and one” – are revealed. Dublin’s past - whether through the Vietnamese of the North-Inner City or the ‘Little Italy’ district of Ship Street - is shown to be much more multicultural than you might think. There is even an attempt to rehabilitate the reputation of the tourist trap of Temple Bar (or a small part of it, anyway) in the shape of the Quakers and United Irishmen of Eustace Street.
Dublin’s most famous sons (Behan, Swift, O’Connell, Pearse, Lynott, and so on) all get their dues throughout the book. But “Three Castles Burning” also throws the spotlight on the city’s unsung heroes, like the visionary city architect Herbert Simms, the preservationist Uinseann MacEoin (saviour of Henrietta Street), the indomitable Terry Fagan of the Inner City Folklore Project, and Alderman Thomas Kelly (the early 20th century crusader for quality housing). By highlighting such ‘ordinary’ fighters for Dublin city, “Three Castles Burning” isn’t just a psycho-geographic study, but also acts as a rallying call for radical activism.
If Dublin was obliterated in a nuclear catastrophe (not an impossibility given how carelessly Dublin City Council are currently administering it), “Three Castles Burning” could be applied as a blueprint to rebuild it from scratch. But this book is also a timely reminder of what makes living in the city bearable and the generations of Dubliners who have made the Hibernian metropolis. Dublin ain’t dead yet, and “Three Castles Burning” brilliantly captures its still beating heart.