This year's Irish March reading was pretty underwhelming. First off, I forgot all about it until halfway through the month (I was absorbed in my latest Structured Reading), and by the time I started all I could cobble together was William Trevor's The Boarding-House and some of Jonathan Swift's lesser-known satirical works. Though I loved The Boarding-House, and Trevor is one of Ireland's greatest writers, the story wasn't Irish at all, instead revolving around the oh-so-English residents of a rundown London boarding house. Then it was on to Swift, but after reading the brilliant and concise A Modest Proposal, I soon learned that A Tale of a Tub wasn't a story at all, but instead a very long and abstract essay. As I struggled to read the arcane prose, my eyes glazed over repeatedly (it was nothing at all like the imaginative and often fun storytelling of Gulliver's Travels) and I knew that even if I finished the piece it would be a long and unsatisfying slog. So with March ending yesterday, I abruptly ended Irish March as well. Next year I hope to be much better prepared.