Anglican Gothic fiction proceeds beyond broad anti-Catholicism to consider theological problems. To some Anglican writers, the novel appealed as a more attractive vehicle for these ideas than religious tracts. In Melmoth the Wanderer, Charles Maturin articulates in novel form the ideas of an earlier sermon, which argues that specific, false doctrines of Catholicism lead to damnation. Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray approaches idolatry as obstructive because it places objects between the believer and paths to salvation. Both in Carmilla and in short fiction, Sheridan Le Fanu asserts what he believes are central topics for Victorian religious debate: the implications of science for theories of the natrural order, and damnation and persecution as realities of a spiritual life.

Religious identity and material culture intersect in Irish society and literature. Churcharchitecture, religious artefacts, and ritual paraphernalia find their origins in theDevotional Revolution, when under the influence of Cardinal Paul Cullen, IrishCatholic practices were standardised and aligned with Rome. During this period, thebuilding of outsized churches, along with the ritualized bodies of believers, becamesignifiers of an increasingly respectable and confident Irish Catholic identity. The1932 Eucharistic Congress illustrates the merging of church and state, and theutilisation of modern modes of production, dissemination, and consumption. VaticanII’s makeover of the liturgy allowed for modern designs in architecture and print totransform the experience of the Mass. Religion and nationalism increasingly sharedthe same iconography and cultural vocabulary in twentieth-century Ireland. Such aconflation of ‘Catholic’ and ‘Irish’ finds another material counterpart in theMagdalene Laundries, which now stand as a symbol of the church/state institutionalabuse of Irish women and children.

This chapter continues the book’s focus on the indirect effects of international litigation, examining how pending cases can help spur social movements at the domestic level. It analyzes the case of KESK, Turkey’s public sector union confederation, which mobilized international human rights law to carve out space for union organizing amid post-coup repression in the 1990s. Even before favorable rulings were issued, KESK activists invoked the authority of ratified treaties and the threat of ECtHR litigation to legitimize their demands, attract new members, and challenge state restrictions. In the post-2000 period, however, the AKP government shifted to more covert tactics, cultivating a clientelist relationship with a pro-government union to marginalize KESK and stifle dissent. As its organizing strength weakened, KESK increasingly turned to litigation, but ECtHR rulings proved ineffective at disrupting the structural constraints unions faced. Drawing on in-depth fieldwork data and archival material, the chapter shows how litigation evolved from a dynamic tool of mobilization into a strategy of documentation and symbolic resistance. KESK’s trajectory underscores a key insight of the book: the transformative potential of international courts depends less on their enforcement power than on the strength, strategy, and mobilization capacity of grassroots actors.

‘Songs of our land, ye are with us forever’, sang Donegal’s ‘blind poetess’ Frances Brown in the 1840s, but she was wrong. Although feted and garlanded in her time, and awarded a pension by Prime Minister Robert Peel (not a noted lover of Ireland, as we shall see), she and her stirring anthems are virtually forgotten now. Histories, like songs and poems, belong to the time in which they are written, and inevitably reflect their writers’ interests, preoccupations and experiences. This concise history is written by an Irish female born in 1960 and reared in an urban, lower-middle-class Catholic extended family in which there was as strong a devotion to history in all its forms (political, social, archaeological, local, national, international and, of course, familial) as there was to religion.

Contrary to the narrative of the Irish Catholic Church’s decline, there exists a range of evidence for a twenty-first-century religious revival. Some of the modern religious deviate from formal practice, engaging with Christianity away from the major churches, while other spiritual practices accord with twenty-first-century Ireland’s cultural diversity. Irish literature has challenged literature but, at times, idealised it. As the religious landscape of Ireland changes, Irish culture finds new ways to explore faith.

Meteorite falls can produce light phenomena (meteors, fireballs), sonic booms, and electrophonic sounds. Doppler radar can identify falls by their positions and velocity vectors. Incoming meteoroids lose mass during atmospheric passage; after slowing, the remaining pieces develop a fusion crust, typically a 1–2-mm thick melt-coating that solidifies in the air. Most meteoroids also develop regmaglypts during descent due to localized vortices of hot, turbulent gas sculpting the meteoroid’s surface. Some specimens maintain a fixed orientation during atmospheric passage and develop nose-cone shapes. The disruption of a meteoroid in the atmosphere can shatter it into thousands of fragments; when these individuals hit the ground, they form an elliptical pattern (strewn field) in which the largest fragments tend to occur at the terminus of the field along the line of the meteoroid’s trajectory. There are fossil ordinary chondrites recovered from Ordovician sedimentary rocks. Terrestrial impact craters associated with ordinary-chondrite remnants include Carancas (Peru) and Morokweng (South Africa). Meteorites have been concentrated on Earth in cold deserts (e.g., Antarctica) and hot deserts (e.g., the Sahara).

Precise definitions can aid in meteorite classification and reduce confusion during interactions across disciplines.

Standish O’Grady’s treatment of Cuchulainn was central to Patrick Pearse’s vision of sacrifice. O’Grady depicts Cuchulainn’s martyrdom as Christ-like, but does so in light of contemporaneous anthropological writings on blood sacrifice and the deities of vegetative regeneration. For blood to seep into the land and revive Ireland was a compelling image to Pearse, dauntless as he imagined that Robert Emmet smiled in anticipation of death. Accordingly, Pearse urged students at St Enda’s and St Ita’s to adopt Emmet and Anne Devlin as presiding figures although – contrary to Yeats’s ‘Easter 1916’ – in the act of sacrifice one should not aspire to individual fame. Influenced by Pearse, the Irish landscape thirsts for blood in Dorothy Macardle’s short fiction.