There must be more to Irishness than pints, crisps, funerals and not being British, writes SHANE HEGARTY

MORE THAN 300 years ago, when Ireland was still centuries away from cutting itself free from the British empire, a group of cultured men and academics decided we were Celts. This notion of a glorious and ancient past was a difference that would set the Irish apart from the British, but also elevate our status within the empire.

Irish nationalists then intervened, cut away the idea of integrating Ireland within the empire, and instead looked to remove the country from it. They held fast to, and developed, the notion of an ancient and glorious Celtic civilisation, cruelly snuffed out by invaders. And from that point on, the Irish became interested and to some extent obsessed with stressing how different they were from the rest of the world. Or, more accurately, how they were not British.

In the 18th century, this was done through tales of warriors and legends; in the 21st century, it’s done through Tayto and our love of funerals. At least, that’s the approach of a couple of light new books on Irishness.

Stuff Irish People Love(O’Brien Press) by Colin Murphy and Donal O’Dea is a witty take, with short entries (numbered one to 88 for no apparent reason other than, perhaps, Irish people love not rounding things off). David Slattery’s How to be Irish: Uncovering the Curiosities of Irish Behaviour(Orpen Press) covers similar ground, only with longer chapters, more writing and a supposedly anthropological eye. Both go into Tayto and our love of funerals at some length.

There are many things that are peculiarly Irish: Tayto and red lemonade being the more famous examples, which is why they remain staples of care packages to emigrants (even those who never touched Tayto or red lemonade when they were home in Ireland). But our love of funerals crops up because funerals are a universal experience that we just happen to specialise in.

Indeed, How to be Irish is particularly good at breaking down the strata of mourners into A-list, B-list, C-list and D-list (the latter including “the elderly who are happily burying each other as a day out of the house”).

Stuff Irish People Loveincludes your mammy greeting you with the words, “Did you hear who died?” Some of the more serious, outsiders’ views of the Irish, such as Thomas Lynch’s The Undertaking – Life Studies from the Dismal trade(Penguin), pay homage to our ways with a wake. We’re not world leaders in many things, so we won’t sniff at that.

In these new books, pubs feature strongly too, as you’d expect – notably lock-ins and the complicated etiquette of the round system. Stuff Irish People Lovepicks up on the very Irish habit of treating last orders like it’s a bell informing patrons that alcoholic beverages will never again be served, leading to armfuls of pints being ordered.

Stuff Irish People Lovepicks out a few things that can only belong to the Irish: “Claiming that Guinness is Always Better in Ireland”, “Spice Burgers”, “The Angelus” and “Telling Foreigners that Hurling is the Fastest Sport on Earth”.

Then, there are those which may not be unique to us, but which we could claim a speciality in, such as “Driving Miles to Save 1 Cent on Petrol”, “Being the Best Fans in the World” and “Leaving Mass During Communion”.

There are things so specific that this Irish person in particular didn’t know he loved them, such as number 63: “Fried Christmas Pudding for Breakfast on St Stephen’s Day.” (A quick survey in the office proved that a couple of Irish people in the vicinity do, indeed, love that culinary breakthrough.)

But if there’s a thread running through each, it is a longing to live up to the stereotype of a mischievous bunch, simultaneously baffling and charming outsiders. It’s how the world wants to see us, so why fight it? Although, you wonder if the world is just being polite to us. Given the preponderance of alcohol, crisp sandwiches and fried food in these books, perhaps number one on the world’s list of things Irish people love is “having bad breath”.