Clare Moriarty

Oct 10, 2024 | irishtimes.com | Clare Moriarty

Trinity College Dublin’s largest library has been denamed and now renamed. The new dedication will celebrate Irish poet and 1966 TCD graduate Eavan Boland and replaces that of fellow Trinity graduate, philosopher and much less good poet George Berkeley. In 2015, I spent four lovely months in northern California.

Oct 5, 2024 | irishtimes.com | Clare Moriarty

Mine is one of those giant Irish babies that is constantly flagged for his status atop the centiles. Our public health nurse referred him to our GP because it was thought he really needed to be measured by a doctor, such was his anatomical bountifulness. Of course, we don’t know his accurate centiles, since he is a formula-fed baby measured using a growth chart based on data from breastfed babies. Why do that, you might ask?

Aug 19, 2024 | philosophersmag.com | Clare Moriarty

The concepts “philosopher” and “mother” have never sat close together in the library of my ideas. I don’t want to be misleading – I was raised by intellectual women and have known many nurturing philosophers – but, drawn down to their essential properties, I never felt philosopher and mother had much overlap. At the beginning of my studies in early modern European philosophy, I recall being struck by the conspicuous shortage of parents around.

Jul 15, 2024 | rte.ie | Clare Moriarty

Analysis: The strange story of Ireland's most conservative philosopher, bishop and slave owner, and his interest in growing hemp in Clare and Limerick By Clare Moriarty, TCD George Berkeley is Ireland's best-known philosopher. Born in 1685, he attended Kilkenny College before heading up to TCD at 15. He is best known for a view called immaterialism, which is the philosophical position that no material things exist independent of the beings that perceive them.

Jul 7, 2024 | irishtimes.com | Clare Moriarty

There will always be bad nights with small babies. On one of those nights, I was at the infant coalface, and for whatever reason, I just couldn’t get mine settled. Her lovely round tummy was full, her nappy clean, and yet there we were, chest to chest in a desperate mutual grip, heartbeats in a ratcheting shared crescendo. We’d already been out for one of her beloved night walks – the combination of the cold January air and her warm cocoon in the baby-carrier providing instant solace.