Bear In Mind These Dead, By Susan McKay

Susan McKay's title comes from a poem by John Hewitt which cautions against using "that loaded word, Remember", which every Irish person has instilled into them.

Instead, his words "propose no more than thoughtful response;/ they do not pound with drum-beats/ of patriotism, loyalty, martyrdom". The dead recalled to mind by this careful, dispassionate book are victims of the Northern Irish Troubles, some killers themselves, some soldiers, some murdered in retaliation for this or that atrocity, some innocent bystanders, like the eight-year-old girl who stepped outside her front door in the village of Claudy just as a car-bomber went about his diabolical work. For those not personally affected by the slaughter, each shocking event makes an impact at the time, but quickly fades into a generalised sense of something unspeakable and unbearable, designated only by its location: McGurk's Bar, Kingsmills, Enniskillen.

Mckay's book obliges us to confront the realities of the violence, the identities of the dead, the ruined lives of those left behind. It is a corollary of the monumental Lost Lives (1999), which specified every victim, and to which McKay pays graceful tribute. Her own account is more selective; by focusing on a smaller number of deaths, she gains a narrative momentum as each appalling story unfolds in its own way. She makes no moral judgements and keeps her tone compassionate but detached.

Bear in Mind These Dead is an exemplary undertaking, but you have to read it in small doses or risk being overwhelmed by horror and despair. Almost the most discouraging aspect of the Troubles is the exultation displayed by one faction whenever those of a contrary affiliation are blown up, shot, hacked to pieces or in any way horribly done to death. Even with the conflict at an end, you get continuing quarrels about who is entitled to be commemorated, and in what way, with vandalising of gravestones and memorials. You are left with the sense of a community overlaid by a terrible confusion of grief and hatred, horror and historical justification.

For all that, this is not a pessimistic book. Amid the sectarian violence and venom, there are instances of integrity and refusal of atavistic coercion. It's a necessary book, which restores humanity to those among the dead who tend to be remembered in terms of statistics alone. Susan McKay has gone about her difficult task with bravery and finesse.