The myth and memory of Eavan Boland's latest poems

My mother was my hero. Where the scars showed was in her indifference to the past. She didn’t want to remember or talk about history

IF you skip randomly through Eavan Boland’s New Selected Poems, you’ll most likely stumble across an image that plays with the concept of memory. Boland’s work has always distinguished between the past and history: two words that appear almost identical at first blush.