The New Liath Luachra Book [Liath Luachra: The Swallowed]

Osraighe: Ireland’s shadowy centre, a desolate region of forest, marshes and mountainous terrain where unwary travellers are ‘swallowed’ and never seen again.

Caught up in an intra-tribal conflict when her latest mission turns sour, the woman warrior Liath Luachra finds herself coerced into a new undertaking. Dispatched to Osraighe to find a colony of missing settlers, she must lead a mismatched group of warriors, spies, and druids through a land of spectral forest, mysterious stone structures, and strange forces that contradict everything she knows of the Great Wild.

Haunted by a dead woman, struggling to hold her war-band together, Liath Luachra must confront her own internal demons while predators prowl the shadow between the trees …

Awaiting their moment to feed.

Liath Luachra: The Swallowed is the second stand-alone book in a spin-off series from my original Irish mythological cycle, the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series. Although originally envisaged as a minor character in that series, the woman warrior Liath Luachra’s compelling personality meant she became a dominant force in every book. This particular novel is the direct result of a stream of emails from readers demanding more background to the character.

As you can see, ancient Ireland wasn’t exactly the most comfortable of spots. The more complex stone monuments that pepper the countryside were there two thousand years before the Celts turned up. By the 2nd century, the majority of the land was challenging to traverse in that it was heavily forested, the midlands were reeking swamp and the island itself was sparsely populated.

And that’s not even counting Na Torathair, misshapen creatures lurking in the darkness to snatch the unwise and unworthy.

Liath Luachra: The Swallowed unsheathes its sword on 1 July 2018 and is available for pre-order on Amazon. A limited number of ARCs are available to reviewers who like to dip their toes in new worlds … that are remarkably ancient.

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The Mandatory Excerpt!

In this excerpt, Liath Luachra, the Grey One of Luachair, is awaiting a meeting with the Mical Strong Arm, (Chieftain) of the Uí Bairrche tribe. While waiting, she comes across his daughter.

——————————————————————————————————————–

Mical Strong Arm’s daughter looked up from her play, her lips compressed in a prim expression of suspicion and annoyance at the intrusion. Skinny and pale, she had straw-coloured hair and her wide blue eyes assessed the newcomer with cool disdain. The Grey One thought her quite small for her age, for Dalbach had told her the girl had ten or eleven years on her.

Ignoring the cold reception, the woman warrior reached over to pluck one of the dry mud cakes from the stone, raised it to her nose and pretended to sniff it.

‘Mmm. That smells good. Shall I eat the cake?’ She licked her lips in exaggerated appreciation of the prospect. ‘Num-num.’

The girl stared, her expression a mixture of irritation and incomprehension. ‘You don’t eat mudcakes. They’re … They’re mud!’ She regarded the woman warrior in exasperation, her jaw jutting out with comical self-righteousness.

‘My brothers and I, we made mudcakes. We made the best mudcakes in Luachair. People came from all over to try them.’

‘Really?’ Despite her suspicions, the girl’s expression softened. Her features were quite delicate the Grey One noted, the small nose and distinct cheekbones probably due more to her mother than her father.

Liath Luachra shook her head. ‘No,’ she confessed. ‘Our cakes were terrible. They were so bad everyone avoided Luachair. Even the rats wouldn’t eat them.’ She screwed her face into an exaggerated grimace causing the girl to giggle effusively.

‘Does your father beat you?’ Liath Luachra asked.

The girl’s eyes widened. ‘No! He …Why would he …?’ She went silent, too confused to articulate what was clearly an alien concept.

‘You’re not afraid of him?’

‘Of my father? Of course not.’ She puffed up her tiny chest. ‘I’m not afraid of anything. I’m not … Well, except for the black shadows at night of course.’ Her face took on a worried expression.

‘You don’t need to be afraid of the black shadows,’ the woman warrior reassured her. ‘That’s simply what happens when the colours of the world go to sleep.’

This time the girl stared at her, completely intrigued. ‘The colours of the world go to sleep?’

‘Yes. Every night, Father Sky opens his bag, gathers up the colours of the world and sets them all inside. When the colours have gone, there’s nothing left in the world but black, the colour of night, the colour even Father Sky has no use for.’

‘Why does Father Sky put them in his bag?’

‘Because colours have to rest too. Just like us. In Father Sky’s bag they can sleep the good sleep so that when he releases them again the next morning, they’re refreshed and new and shine as brilliant as the day before.’ She made a loose gesture with one hand. ‘Except for the dull days when they didn’t get enough sleep.’

The Uí Bairrche girl sat back on her haunches, her lips pursed in thought as she considered the logic of Grey One’s explanation. ‘Is that true?’ she asked at last.

‘I don’t know for sure,’ Liath Luachra admitted. ‘But I think so. My mother told me that story and she wasn’t the kind of person to tell lies.’

The girl looked at Liath Luachra with fresh interest. ‘Lígach’s the name on me,’ she said at last, the revelation apparently a formal confirmation of the Grey One’s approval. ‘What name do you have on you?’

‘I don’t have a name on me. Not anymore.’

Lígach’s nose crinkled in adult-like incredulity. ‘That’s silly. Everyone has a name.’

‘Not me. Not a real name. I lost my real name … long ago. Back when I was a little girl. Just a few years older than you.’

The girl shook her head. ‘That doesn’t make sense. How can you lose your name?’

The Grey One looked at her, silent for a moment. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said at last and gave a shrug. Perhaps …’ She paused. ‘Perhaps it fell out of my pocket.’

Lígach giggled. ‘That’s silly.’

The Grey One looked down at the ground. ‘Perhaps,’ she said again.

Lígach nodded with certainty, as though her own answer resolved that particular conundrum. ‘Are you here to speak with my father?’

‘I am.’

‘Is he sending you away to An Díthreabh Uaigneach [The Lonely Land] too?’

Taken by surprise, the woman warrior pulled back a little. ‘Yes.’

The girl leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner, pressing her lips close to the woman warrior’s ear. ‘When you’re in The Lonely Land,’ she whispered urgently. ‘Stay away from the dark shadows. The dark shadows eat you up.’

Liath Luachra blinked and regarded Mical Strong Hand’s daughter in consternation but before she could question her further, a loud voice called out to her rear. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Dalbach standing in the doorway of the stone hut, waving urgently for her to join him.

‘Grey One! Come. Mical Strong Arm and the others are waiting.’

As the woman warrior got to her feet, he disappeared inside again. ‘I have to go,’ she told the Uí Bairrche girl. Thank you for talking with me.’

Lígach nodded again, apparently knowing better than to interfere in her father’s business. ‘Remember,’ she said. ‘When you’re in the Lonely Land, stay away from the dark shadows.’

 

Song of Granite – A Review

As an Irish publisher, I’m always interested in Irish stories no matter what the medium used, hence I’d heard of the film Song of Granite long before I finally got a chance to see it earlier this month. A movie by Irish art-house director Pat Collins, Song of Granite tells – or rather illustrates – the life story of Seosamh Ó hÉanaí (known in English as Joe Heaney), the famous Irish sean-nós (unaccompanied, old style) singer from County Galway.

No one could deny Heaney was an accomplished singer and the folklorists adored him as his repertoire reputedly included over five hundred different songs in Irish, many whose origins had been lost and which were impossible to date definitively.

Collins approaches the story in an interesting way, splitting the film into three parts: Heany’s childhood in Carna, his life as an emigrant labourer in Glasgow and his later his years in America where he eventualy died in 1984. On a cinematographic level, the first part of the movie is certainly the most spectacular with many scenes – including the opening scene of the boats – reminiscent of the famous ‘Man of Aran’.

Although Collins approaches Heaney’s story in an indirect manner, it seems to suit the subject of the movie. Heany, by all accounts, was something of an elusive and prickly figure. Never entirely comfortable with his life in the city and his growing reputation as a singer, he often disappeared without warning, deserting his family for periods of over a year, sometimes returning back to the country where he worked on simple labouring jobs. It’s never stated directly that he’s fleeing the city but there’s one telling shot where he’d looking down at his kids in Glasgow, where they’re trying to play football in the concrete confines of a narrow alley-way. After the panoramic freedom and grandeur of Carna, the comparison is obvious.

The singing, of course, forms an essential part of the story and is present throughout the film. My favourite scene is one very-well recreated pub-scene where Heaney (played by Micheál Ó Confhaola) sings while getting that supportive touch of another sean-nós singer, something that’s totally distinctive to that particular art-form.

One aspect of Heany that came across (and which I wasn’t aware of) was his refusal to sing songs derived from the Irish music-hall stage (the ‘Oirish’ songs overseas audiences were used to hearing, and which many people demanded). Most people feel comfortable when another culture is presented to them in a familiar (i.e. in their language, in concepts they’re accustomed to dealing with etc.) and I really appreciated the way that Heany appeared to see himself as much more than that.

Either way, if you’re interested in sean-nós singing, Joe Heany’s life or a beautiful and poetic rendition of an earlier time and art-from, than this is very much the film for you.

Beara Dreaming

Twenty years ago, during a particularly tough winter, I found myself thumbing along a country road in Beara, trying to make my way back to Cork city. To be honest, it probably wasn’t the smartest of moves given that it was New Year’s morning and the landscape was empty of human activity. In the two hours I’d spent walking in the direction of Bantry, only two vehicles had passed: a van and a Morris Minor driven by a tight-faced old woman. Both had been headed in the opposite direction.

The previous night in Glengarrif had been a typical New Year’s Eve, heavy on the traditional music and the booze and a singing session that went on till the early hours. For some reason, I still woke up at six in the morning and, despite the hangover, had this deep-rooted drive to move on. This was some weird kind of personality glitch that plagued me from my late teens until about the age of thirty, a strange apprehension that I was enjoying something too much and that, if I didn’t let the joy go voluntarily, it would somehow be taken off me. Even today, I’m still not sure what was behind all that.

After two hours of walking the empty road, I couldn’t really feel my fingers or my toes. Fortunately, there was a liquid sun that kept the worst of the cold at bay and transformed Beara’s habitual grey bleakness into one of the most beautiful landscapes I know, and which still holds a death-grip on me.

Eventually, I heard a puttering sound in the distance behind me. When I looked hopefully back over my shoulder however, it turned out to be a motorbike, a tiny Honda 50, already loaded down with two people. As it drew nearer, I realised that I recognised both the motorbike and the two people on it. The driver, was one of my best friends from university while the person on the back was a girl I’d had a romantic fling with two years earlier (ironically, the last time I’d been home to Cork). The latter was wearing a hurling facemask as they only had one helmet. She was also wearing a large black, plastic rubbish bag to keep the cold off. The motorbike didn’t sound too healthy, you could actually hear the motor’s relief as it crested the hill and started downhill towards me.

This is typical Beara of course. It’s always been a strikingly surreal place, full of fascinating characters, dreamlike encounters and an odd sense of magical realism that’s tempered with the brutal weather, the unemployment and the other harsh practical realities of living there.

In New Zealand, where I’m currently living,  Maori have a word – turangawaiwai (literally, it means ‘the place where I stand’) – to express the connection between a person and a particular place, or a piece of land. The word, and the concept, really encapsulate that idea of attachment in terms of familial, generational, spiritual and cultural connection in a way that English words like ‘homeland’ (or even most Irish words I can think of) fail to capture. It’s the kind of word that necessitates a ‘walking of the land’ –  a regular and consistent of land to the point where you know the ground intimately and it forms part of your vocabulary.

Down where we lived, each field had its own name, generally associated with a physical characteristic, an event or a use or a person. The field in front of our house was called ‘An Páirc Mor’ – the Big Field – nothing like stating the bleeding obvious. A bit further on, you came to An Páirc Glas – the Green Field – because of the vibrant grass colour, and so on.

I used that kind of in-depth cultural background when I wrote my first book – Beara Dark Legends – because when you first start writing, you pretty much use what you know and in that particular case, it was a means of lancing the power of homesickness. The location for much of the land where the action takes place – Carraig Dubh (pronounced ‘Corr-igg Doov’ for the non-Irish speakers) is essentially drawn from the house and surrounding land where I spent a substantial part of my childhood and I occasionally used some of the local field names.

For those who’ve read the book, that’s the house and that’s Cnoc Daod up there in the background, dominating the world with its granite bulk. Some people have asked why I never give it the English name but I suppose, for me, the English name just doesn’t sound right. It’s probably just a personal thing. I like its English name fine, but it’ll never have the same emotional resonance or connection that ‘Cnoc Daod’ has.

Living here in New Zealand has by necessity meant that I’m unable to ‘walk the land’ like I used to. It also means that I can sometimes feel my culture – and its creative associations – slipping away and I have no choice but to go back and ‘draw from the well’ once again. I’m hoping to get home again this year and will probably be spending a substantial period of time down Beara way.

Hopefully you’ll see the practical ramifications of that in future works.

An Historical Irish Revenge Thriller

For those with an interest in film, an interesting ‘Irish film’ premiered at the Berlin Film Festival in February this year and although I’ve been keeping an eye out for it on the international scene, it seems to have pretty much disappeared beneath the radar. Entitled ‘Black 47,’ it refers of course to 1847, the nadir of The Great Famine – An Gorta Mór.

Irish films based on An Gorta Mór are pretty few and far between (I can’t actually think of any), probably because as a tragedy and cultural injustice so epic in scale, the topic is still a somewhat sensitive subject, at least for our older population.

Fortunately, director’s like Lance Daly are young enough to avoid the worst of that burden so it’ll be interesting to see how he manages to balance that interaction between respect and voyeurism.

Daly was smart enough to approach the topic through the medium of a historical thriller/revenge movie – the plot basically concerns an Irish soldier who deserts and returns to the west of Ireland to seek revenge during the famine. Interestingly, Daly chose two Australian actors in the two major roles (Hugo Weaving and James Frenchville). The latter – in the attached scene – speaks pretty good Irish but I must admit I’m curious as to what it’ll turn out like.

Has anyone seen it?

The Irish Imbas: Celtic Mythology Collection 2018 is Out!

The third in our series of Celtic Mythology Collections – the Irish Imbas: Celtic Mythology Collection 2018 – is now available in hard copy through Amazon/Createspace HERE.

The digital version of the book is currently available for pre-order from Amazon HERE and will be formally released on 1 JUNE 2018.

This series, which we first started to publish three years ago, was our first attempt at distributing accurate cultural information on what’s generally referred to as ‘Celtic Mythology‘.

As well as a new introductory essay on the misinterpretation of Irish Mythology in ‘Commercial Fantasy’, this particular collection contains fours stories:

  • ‘Moireach’ by Donna Rutherford, which concerns the adventures of a young girl who’s convinced she’s a selkie (this is truly a funny and quite touching story).
  • ‘Homecoming’ by Damien J. Howard (also concerning a little girl ‘taken’ as a changeling); and
  • ‘The Shadow of the Crow’ by Jerry Vandal – the story of an avian intermediary between this world and the Otherworld.

The collection also includes one of my own short stories which concerns the infamous tale of of Labhraidh Loingseach – the fascinating individual on the cover.

Although this particular version is priced at 99c, the first two collections in the series remain free in digital form.

Choosing the Next Book

You can tell it’s been a busy first quarter when you’re already wishing it was the Christmas holidays!

In terms of writing and other creative work, the last four months have been a bit of a strain but we’re approaching the end of a creative cycle. For at least two months now, I’ve barely been visible on social media and, here on the blog, there’s obviously been a notable absence.

Two of the reasons for that will become apparent shortly with the release of two new books (but I’ll post on those soon).  With those projects coming to a close however, I’m now looking at what other writing projects we can start this year. We do have two ongoing projects, however I’m also keen to start another book and this is where – if you’re interested – you get a chance to yell out if there’s anything you’d prefer to see. The options are as follows:

  1. Fionn 4: The Salmon of Secret Knowledge
  2. Liath Luachra 3: The Seeking
  3. Beara 2: Cry of the Banshee

If you drop me a line at info@irishimbas.com with your preference, that would be great. If you don’t feel like sending an in-depth missive with a critique of my writing style, dress sense or poor life-choices, just stick your preference in the title space. Naturally, I’ll go with the book that gets the highest number of votes. I’ve already pout this out on our monthly newsletter Vóg and so far the two favourites are Fionn 4 and Beara 2 – both of which are neck and neck.

Sometimes, I could kick myself for not finishing one series before starting another but I guess that’s just the way of it. From a creative perspective, I tend to grow weary of a project as I reach the conclusion and I’m usually keen to start something different. Hence, the jumping from one series to another.

In terms of future projects I’m keen to start, these are highest on the list (although I know I’ll have one or two ‘revelations’ over the next year which I’ll – no doubt – want to follow up on as well).

  • Dún: This is a series of three books based around the events leading up to a famous battle way back in Ireland’s dim past. Although there are no historical records for the battle, the story itself is deeply ingrained in local folklore and has a lot of surrounding placenames associated with it. These books would be about 60,00-70,000 words each, so shorter than my usual but at least I’d deliver a finished series in one hit.
  • Máire: A stand-alone novel based on the adventures of an Irish Olympic athlete. This is probably more sci-fi than anything else I’ve done (only because it’s set in the future – the science itself is actually very light) and it’s very much a character-driven story. If it ends up a goer, I might look at a trilogy.

In terms of non-fiction projects:

  • Field Guide to Irish Mythology

In any case, we’re looking forward to your feedback.

Saint Patrick’s Day Book Sale

As most people are no doubt aware, the 17th of March has something of a symbolic significance for us here at Irish Imbas (hint-hint: It’s Saint Patrick’s Day!)

Given that we’re going to be uncontactable (and, most likely, incomprehensible) over the next 24-36 hours or so, we figured it might be a good time to have a sale. And to be honest, if you don’t have a sale of Irish-themed books on Saint Patrick’s Day, when are you going to have it?

Most of the books listed on this site(HERE) therefore are either at half-price, substantially reduced (Fionn: Defence of Ráth Bládhma) or free (The Celtic Collection books). I hope you find something you like.

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig ort!!

Brian O’Sullivan

Happy St Paddy’s …. Or not!

About twenty years ago when people first started wishing me a ‘Happy Saint Paddy’s Day’, I felt a bit left-footed and unsure how to respond. Back then, most Irish people didn’t really use that expression as Saint Patrick’s Day wasn’t really a celebration you ‘wished happiness’ to someone for and, in English, the term sounded wrong and clunky. When you look at the Irish form of celebrating the event you can really see why.

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig ort.

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig ort (literally “the Blessings of St Patrick’s Day on you”) is very much an Irish/Gaelic way of thinking. When you think in Irish, emotions are generally ‘on’ you so when you offer blessings, you offer then ‘on’ someone (in the same way you’d wish happiness on them). Emotions in an English sense of speaking is generally more static or more a state of being (‘I’m happy, I’m sad’ instead of ‘Happiness is on me, sadness is on me,’ etc.)

The first time I was wished a happy St Paddy’s, I’d just emigrated from Ireland. In my own head the construct felt wrong. At the same time, because I’m fluent in English and exposed to media and influence from English-speaking countries, I also understood what was meant. It was just a bit … odd. I experienced the same thing many times over the following years but it was really only a few years ago that I finally understood what was happening out of sight and at a far deeper, cultural level.

But first some context:

For a lot of people growing up in Ireland in the seventies and eighties, St Patrick’s Day was much more of a religious festival, sober and a bit up-tight, dominated by an extended St Paddy’s Day Mass and alleviated only by the prospect of a parade (a sea of black umbrellas, sodden kids up on a truck with paper maché castles that were melting in the rain!). Occasionally, on television, we’d see stories about giant parades in the States where some cities made the rivers run green for the day and the parades themselves ran like giant Hollywood productions. In our eyes, they seemed oddly surreal, disconnected from what we were living in Ireland and, in some ways, weirdly plastic.

Up to the early 1990s, the main ‘foreign’ influence on Irish culture (in terms of language, entertainment, employment options, sales markets, etc.) was undoubtably Great Britain, although this was tempered to a degree due to the animosity between both countries over that period. With improved international transportation, increased international sales of media entertainment (and later, the internet and social media) other diverse influences and ways of thinking came to the fore. From that point on, you could say that Irish culture and society started to become more influenced by American influence (particularly television and other media, etc.) to the point where today, some Irish people are more familiar with certain aspects of American life than their own.

Other influencers, were the first, second, third (etc.) descendants of Irish people living overseas who, on days of significance (like St Patrick’s day) were understandably keen to engage with the culture/country they felt affiliated to. Some of them, keener to embrace Irish culture than others, took a step further and make an effort to engage in the Irish language. That’s why online today you’ll find a lot of people who use the following version of the blessing/greeting:

Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit!

Literally, of course, this means ‘Happy St Patrick’s Day to you’, although the Irish/Gaelic cultural intent /context has been soundly replaced by an English/American cultural context (it’s simply an extension of the ‘Happy Birthday’, Happy Mother’s Day, Happy Christmas structure). It’s a very little thing but it does demonstrate how Irish/Gaelic cultural concepts – the things that make us different and unique in the world – are slowly being eroded.

To be fair, it’s also important to recognise that no culture is static. All cultures evolve as they’re exposed to outside influences and Irish culture is no exception. No-one wants to be part of a culture that doesn’t adapt with the times because such cultures risk being erased by other, more dominant, cultures. Ireland certainly was in that situation for a very long time but, fortunately, seems to have taken on new confidence over the last few decades.

The downside of that ‘non-static’ argument of course, is that if one culture dominates, then that removes any ability for diversity and, longer term, innovation. The Blue Mink’s misguided “Great Big Melting Pot” would have essentially removed any form of individual ethnic or cultural variety, reduced the world to a uniform and very bland way of thinking and living.

If you’d like to ‘stick it to the man’ and make a small gesture for genuine Irish/ Gaelic concepts, then this St Paddy’s why not raise your glass and bless everyone there with a heartfelt Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig ort! instead.

[Note: In celebration of the day that’s in it, Irish Imbas is having the usual St Paddy’s Day sale on 17th March (Saturday). If you’re interested just check out the books page.

New Book News

It’s been a tough few months with challenging workloads on all fronts but fortunately I’ve had the chance to work with some fascinating and talented people this year. As a result, I’m hoping this year’s output is going to be one of our most substantial and best to date.

The second book to appear this year will be the next LIATH LUACHRA adventure (THE SWALLOWED) which should be out sometime in the next 3 months. This follows the experiences of the 2nd century Irish woman warrior Liath Luachra (the future guardian to Irish mythological hero Fionn mac Cumhaill) and her fian (war party) ‘The Friendly Ones’.

The draft blurb outlining the story currently reads as follows:

Ireland: Second century.

The Lonely Lands: Ireland’s shadowy centre, a desolate region of dense forest and swamp where unwary travellers are swallowed up … to disappear forever.

Caught up in a tribal conflict when their latest mission goes sour, the woman warrior Liath Luachra and war party “The Friendly Ones” find themselves coerced into a new undertaking:

* Lead a mismatched group of warriors into the Lonely Lands.

* Find ‘The Swallowed’.

But intra-tribal rivalry is never what it seems, old enemies bear fresh grudges and predators move in the dark heart of the forest …
Awaiting their moment to feed.
————————————————-

PRAISE FOR THE LIATH LUACHRA SERIES

“The thinking woman’s warrior!”

“This is an Ancient Ireland that is entrancing and savage, much like Liath Luachra herself.”

“Liath Luachra is an engaging protagonist – deliciously sensual, yet calculatingly violent when the cause demands it. Never a dull moment, difficult to put down.”

“You don’t often come across such a compelling hero(ine), written with such depth and understanding.”

“She’s intriguing – fierce and capable of killing…but loyal and gentle too at times. I love the picture painted of old Ireland and the wildness of it – and the occasional use of the Irish language adds another dimension to the story – a kind of authenticity. I’m looking forward to reading more.” (less)

Further details on our expected output this year should appear in the next edition of Vóg (our monthly newsletter). You can find a copy of last month’s edition here: Vóg

A Bad Cover for a Great New Fantasy Novel by Award Winning Irish Author

Proud of Modernity is a new novel by Irish author Brian O’Sullivan. Although a mind-shattering and life-altering novel (in a good way!), the cover is very bad. Laughably bad.
So let’s have some fun with it. Tell us what you think of it in the poll below by suggesting some new responses and we’ll pick ten random entries to win a signed copy of the hardcover. We’ll pick the ten winners on March the 1st (2070). Everyone’s welcome to play. Just cast your vote and post a comment.

Thanks to Terry Goodkind for this awesome idea!!

This cover is good enough to:

  • make me stop drinking for ever
  • make me cut my hand off to free myself and flee
  • makes a pig’s arse look oddly attractive
  • makes me feel suddenly kinda sexist

[Note: For those who are a bit slow on the uptake, this is a pastiche of the recent scandal wrt Terry Goodkinnd’s cover for a book called Shroud of Eternity(?), Modernity … something like that].

Results for the Celtic Mythology Short Story Competition 2017

Well, one bottle of Sauvignon down, twenty-five minutes of intense discussion and this must have been one of the fastest judging sessions I’ve ever partaken in for the Celtic Mythology Short Story Competition.

To be fair, we have learned a lesson or two from the previous competitions. For last year’s session we had about ten short stories and two bottles of wine (which, in truth, probably didn’t help to focus the discussion). We also had the additional dynamic in that we changed the voting system to reduce my input so the story I had expected to win didn’t (although it was in the top three) and one I’d assumed would score highly didn’t even make it into the final compilation. That took over an an hour and a half of painstaking argument before we finally agreed on the competition winners and the awarding of prizes. After the seriousness of the hangover I had the next morning, I knew we had to make it simpler and reduce the shortlist to a more manageable number the next time around.

This year therefore, we started with a shortlist of six stories. Interestingly, even before we had the wine bottle open, the initial discussion had already reduced the shortlist to three stories (on which the judges were unanimous). The remaining twenty minutes of discussion were really limited to the allocation of the prizes.

But enough about us and our alcoholic, self-indulgent ramblings. Here are the stories shortlisted for the Celtic Mythology Short Story Competition 2017.

  • Homecoming by Damien J. Howard
  • Moireach by Donna Rutherford
  • The Ancient Ash by Margaret McCarthy
  • The Ford of The Fork by Will O’Siorain
  • The Shadow of the Crow by Jerry W. Vandal
  • The Quest of Oscar and Plor na mBan by Aoife Osborne

And without further ado, here are the three winners in descending order

FIRST PRIZE
$500 and story published in Irish Imbas Celtic Mythology Collection
‘Moireach’ by Donna Rutherford

 

SECOND PRIZE
$250 and story published in Irish Imbas Celtic Mythology Collection
‘Homecoming’ by Damien J. Howard

 

THIRD PRIZE
$100 and story published in Irish Imbas Celtic Mythology Collection
‘The Shadow of the Crow’ by Jerry W. Vandal

Congratulations to the winners who we’ll be very pleased to see appear in the final Irish Imbas: Celtic Mythology Collection 2018. Commiserations also to Margaret McCarthy, Will O’Siorain and Aoife Osborne who despite some good storytelling, unfortunately missed out on this occasion.

So What Happens Next?

The winning authors should receive payment over the next seven days.
The Irish Imbas: Celtic Mythology Collection 2018 should be released towards the end of April 2018. We’ll be posting on the website and elsewhere when this occurs.

Next year, there will be some significant (very significant) changes to the way we run the competition in order to make it more inclusive and more closely aligned with our own objective for it. But we’ll tell you all about that when it’s closer to the time.

Until then, our congratulations once again to the winning authors and our thanks to those of you who took the time to enter or follow the competition.

Father Ted and Me- Twenty Years

I learned this morning that Dermot Morgan (the Irish actor who played Father Ted) died twenty years ago today.

Back in the late 90’s I used to let my young kids watch Father Ted with me as a way to familiarise them with Irish humour, something that was a bit of a challenge as we’d moved to the other side of the world from Ireland and the possibilities of the internet were still in their infancy. To this day, they still make quips like “Careful now, Dad!”, “Down with that sort of thing” (usually when they dislike my cooking!) or “That would be an ecumenical matter” (when they’re losing an argument).

As a result, even twenty years later, like a lot of Irish people I still have a huge affection for Father Ted.

Suaimhneas síoraí duit, a Dermot Morgan. Somehow it’d seem a bit hypocritical to use the usual “Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam” (that you soul stands on Gd’s right side – the old Irish expression for ‘rest in peace’).

‘maith agat, Father Ted!

The Truth About Irish Woman Warriors – What They Never Tell You

Lagertha, from the television series: Vikings - often misrepresented as 'Celtic' or 'Oirish' warrior online

[Pic: Lagertha, from the television series: Vikings – often misrepresented as a ‘Celtic’ or ‘Oirish’ woman warrior online]

There’s a lot of fantasy out there when it comes to women warriors, particularly where it relates back to those in the Irish or “Celtic” realm. To be fair, the subject of women warriors is hardly a new one. Since the development of literature itself, writers (usually male) and readers have been enamored by tales of fighting women (particularly Herodotus with his notes on the inaccurately-named Amazons), probably because they’re such a rarity in ancient warfare, an area generally dominated by men.

The role of women in ancient warfare certainly differed between different cultures but in ancient Irish, Scottish, Welsh and Manx societies – a far more physical society than today –  warfare was generally left to the men. That’s not to say that women didn’t fight, of course. The histories of these countries are full of examples of women fighting to defend themselves, fighting to protect the ones they love, or fighting each other. In terms of recognised warrior status warrior in actual warfare context however, this would have been a rarity indeed.

When it comes to women warriors in the ancient Irish mythological context (i.e. not historical), we certainly seem to have more references in the surviving literature than other contemporary societies of the same period. Some people mistakenly use this fact to argue that female fighters were common in early Irish society and that it was a far more ‘gender equal’ society but that’s a pretty big leap to make.

As an Irish person I’d LOVE to boast that ancient Ireland was the role model for gender equality but I think it’d be pretty dishonest of me if I did. At their most basic level, people don’t tend to change too much. Human societies have always been based around the established holders of power and, in ancient Ireland, most of that power was held by men.

Whatever you believe, the mythological tales still have to be treated with caution and never treated literally. The writers/recorders of that time were not above a bit of creative licence or prejudice and people often forget that just because something was written a long time ago, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.

 

The Pattern of Women Warriors in Irish Mythology

If we look at Irish mythology then, the most well-known women warriors referred to in the literature tend to include:

  • Scáthach– a woman warrior who appears in the Ulster Cycle who was based in modern-day Scotland. She instructs the hero Cú Chulainn in a number of martial feats and (depending on the version) when he catches her with her guard down, is forced to take him as a lover
  • Aífe– a rival of Scáthach who Cú Chulainn forces to lie with him at swordpoint and who subsequently bears him a son
  • Neasa (Ness)– a woman warrior forced into marriage at swordpoint by the warrior/druid Cathbad and future mother of the famous Conchobhar mac Nessa
  • Liath Luachra – a guardian of the young Fionn mac Cumhaill, briefly mentioned in the Fenian Cycle

The surviving literature is very limited when it comes to these characters but with the first three, there’s an overpowering impression that the character of the powerful woman warrior was created specifically to highlight the sexual domination and military prowess of the male ‘hero’ who subsequently overpowers her (a pattern also found with other women warrior characters in mythology).

The final figure (Liath Luachra) is probably the only one that doesn’t follow this pattern. This is predominantly because as a guardian to the much younger hero (Fionn mac Cumhaill), any relationship between them is desexualised.

Other figures in Irish Mythology cited as Women Warriors

Other female figures from Irish mythology occasionally offered up as examples of women warriors include:

  • Meadhbh (also spelt Medb, Maeve etc.) – Queen of Connacht in the Táin (The Cattle Raid of Cooley)
  • The Morríghan (or Mór-ríoghain)

Again, if you look at either of these in any detail, you’ll immediately find that neither actually make the cut. All of the literary and archaeological evidence to date indicates that these figures were personifications of female deities as opposed to warrior women. Articles or literary works suggesting that they were warriors usually indicates that the authors haven’t even done the most basic of homework or they’re pushing an argument driven more by wish fulfilment than fact.

Irish Women Warriors in Literature

For a long time, Irish women warriors pretty much lingered as an ‘interesting’ footnote in the republications of old academic works on Irish mythology. Over the last thirty to forty years however, representation of women warriors has become far more prevalent in commercial fiction, particularly in the fantasy genre where mythological characters occasionally end up “borrowed” for contemporary stories.

The final products are usually fine from a basic entertainment perspective even if, from a cultural perspective, things can get a little … ‘iffy’, when creators miss the underlying cultural context. Unfortunately, with Irish warrior women, this can particularly result in works that are not only overly romanticised but which ignore some of the strong negative gender undercurrents associated with the characters, something of which the authors often seem – disturbingly – unaware.

Note: This is an updated version of an older article published on this website and later published on the Fantasy Hive.

Apparently, I’m Getting Better

Apparently, I’m getting a bit better with this whole writing malarkey. Usually, my co-director/partner rolls her eyes when she gets asked to do the initial pre-final draft peer review. Today, she actually demanded the next chapter of LIATH LUACHRA: THE SWALLOWED,

Honestly! That is a good thing.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38086182-liath-luachra—the-swallowed

Irish Monsters (and where the Loch Ness Monster Came From)

In Ireland, the word we use for “monster” is “peist” (which is actually translated as ‘worm’ or ‘reptile’). That’s because our ancestors explained the creation of river routes with stories of giant, worm-like creatures who lived in waterways, being chased through the landscape by mythological heroes like Fionn mac Cumhaill (and later Christian Saints). In present day Scotland (which had the same cultural belief systems), that’s why traces of this belief system still linger with the story of Nessie in Loch Ness.

It’s possible they may have looked like this (but probably not!)

Shortlist for the 2017 Celtic Mythology Short Story Competition

In summary, forty submissions were received for the  Irish Imbas: Celtic Mythology Short Story competition this year and the standard was far more diverse in terms of submission quality than for any of the previous competitions. As always, some submissions were of very high quality but quite a number this year really weren’t at a level quite ready for publication in that they needed significant review and editing. To be fair, this reflects the experience of the writers – some who are clearly at an early stage of their writing career. With some additional polish, there are some genuine gems there.

Again, this year, despite the changes to our criteria, we also received a number of what I’d call ‘ghost stories’ or ‘fantasy stories’ – stories that were actually very good but which related to issues and topics we don’t really deal with. That situation very much reflects one of the biggest problems Irish Imbas faces in trying to achieve its goals – the confusion of fantasy and mythology.

Most people have been raised with a kind of ‘Disneyfied’ understanding of what mythology’ is all about and commercial interests have been fostering that for the fantasy market for several decades. As a result, this isn’t a surprise but again we’ll have to change how we do things in the future to make that even clearer.

But enough of that. Here’s the short-list for the Celtic Mythology Short Story Competition 2017.

  • Homecoming by Damien J. Howard
  • Moireach by Donna Rutherford
  • The Ancient Ash by Margaret McCarthy
  • The Ford of The Fork by Will O’Siorain
  • The Shadow of the Crow by Jerry W. Vandal
  • The Quest of Oscar and Plor na mBan by Aoife Osborne

 

So What Happens Next?

Those authors who made the short-list will be looked at again for minor editing where needed before they’re sent onto the judges for final consideration. Four judges will then consider them (where I’ll have one vote out of the four). Last year, this had quite a big impact on the final outcome in that only three of the five stories I’d thought were going to be in the final publication actually made the final cut.

The winning authors and those being published in the final Celtic Mythology Collection will be announced around the beginning of March 2018.

Congratulations to all those who made the list and the best of luck. I’d also like to thank those of you who made the effort to submit but who didn’t make the shortlist. I can’t contact you all individually but several of you have excellent stories that I believe another publisher would snap up.

Maith agaibh!

Brian O’Sullivan

Public Art on the Irish West Coast

If you get over to Ireland’s west coast (or you’re already there!) you might want to check out some of the public art projects in Mayo. One of these – Tír Sáile – was Ireland’s largest public arts trail with fourteen separate sculptural emplacements set in specific sites along the north mayo coast. Originally conceived and implemented in in 1993 to coincide with the formal opening of the Céide Fields visitors’ centre (and the associated Mayo 5000 celebrations), the art trail starts in Killala and follows the coastal route around through Ballycastle, Belderrig and down to An Fód Dubh at the end of the Belmullet peninsula. Although there were originally 14 site-specific art installations, only eleven survive today (a number were decommissioned due to lack of maintenance).

Tír Sáile is actually a conceptually interesting project in that it involved the alignment of large structural artworks with some pretty rugged landscape and dramatic natural backdrops with the objective of producing sculptures that “added to rather than detracted from, their settings”. As part of this, one of the fundamental requirements was that only natural materials could be used to ensure the structure in sympathy with their surroundings.

Another aspect of the project was envisioning the utilisation of the old Irish tradition of meitheal where people in rural communities worked together with neighbours to bring in the hay or help out with some other urgent crop. Generally speaking, each farmer/property owner person would help out their neighbour in the knowledge that when they too needed help, that assistance would be reciprocated. This allowed communities to act as a team, build strong relationships and allow benefit to be shared for everyone.

Needless to say, as with all art projects Tír Sáile’s not all about art (Sheesh, really!). Part of the rationale for Tír Sáile (and no doubt part of the reason they managed to get so much public funding) was the justification that the structures and associated marketing would help draw people to that part of Ireland for tourism and local business development reasons. As usual however, when you mix two such different objectives, the results can be very hit and miss.

The success of the project will very much depend on a number of perspectives. From a commercial perspective (in terms of tourism and benefit to local businesses), it’s hard to know if the project was a success. The project was mixed (and overshadowed by) the success of Céide fields and, of course, Irish tourism marketing campaigns like the ‘Wild Atlantic Way’. No doubt there has been some financial evaluation of the project although with local government organisations, public art projects often tend to be ‘closed shop’ affairs, controlled by a certain number of people  with limited accountability and no meaningful consultation. In that respect, the ongoing planning corruption investigation carried out by the Irish Standards in Public Office Commission (SIPOC) doesn’t really inspire confidence.

From a personal perspective, the success of the various artistic installations will very much depend on personal taste. Some people loathe the installations, some people love them. Most people don’t actually seem to know about them (of the ten people I asked, maybe one had heard of them). From those structures I’ve seen (about five), I personally felt that some of the artworks worked whereas others really didn’t and, in this regard, it wasn’t really helped by the absence of any interpretive material (although given that these works are based one persons’s personal vision – not the public’s – I’m not sure how much this would help either).

Tonnta na mblianta was visually … meh. Tearmon na Gaoithe, set on a dramatic headland on Killala Bay, ironically seemed to have the aim of constricting that spectacular view to a single frame (which seems a bit daft). Other structures meanwhile like Court Henge seemed just seemed like a bad decision. The concept behind it (making a structure that looked like a court cairn) was apt but placing in its current location (by the Ballycastle Cottages) just seemed stupid.

Court Hence – poor positioning

 

Tonnta na mblianta – Meh!

Others will have a completely different view and that’s fine.

Another example of public art (again in north Mayo) is ‘The Crossing’ (a project funded by Mayo County Council, Fáilte Ireland and other stakeholders) which is a ráth-like structure around the blowhole at Dún Briste (Downpatrick Head).

 

The Crossing [Photo from North Mayo Art Trail]

I have to confess, this work really appealed to me and I liked the way it had been incorporated into the landscape but I did wonder why more of the rich local folklore hadn’t been incorporated. This became a bit clearer when I searched online and found the artist wasn’t a local at all but an American artist (Travis Price) associated with the Catholic University of America. His rationale behind the installation was explained as follows:

The Crossing evokes the struggle and the sublime slipstream between the mystical and the material, between cultural history and the eternal sacred.’

Hmmm. Right.

Have to admit my eyes glazed over there at ‘sublime slipstream’.

On a personal level, I’d hoped we’d grown out of that florid, wince-inducing language (‘mystical’, ‘spiritual’ etc) that foreigners tend to ascribe to Ireland and the Irish. It’s a bit sad to see local authorities in Mayo encouraging it on publicly-funded monuments.

Clearly, they weren’t using the meitheal approach!

Submission Titles for the Celtic Mythology Short Story Competition

It’s always fun to look through the titles of submissions for the Celtic Mythology Short Story Competition and this year has been no exception. Since we first started the competition (back in the Dark Ages of 2015), I’ve got into a routine of running through the title list without the author names attached just to see the kind of reaction the titles trigger.

A story title can often be extremely evocative but their interpretation, of course, is usually linked to the personal experience and background or the person reading them. As a result, what I’d read into a title would be very different to what another person would.

Despite the old saying, I’ve learned that these days you actually can judge a book by its cover – at least in terms of genre (except in those cases where you have an inept publisher). That doesn’t work with a story/book title, though. The gold standard for titles is to have something that’s evocative but which also gives you an accurate expectation of what you’re about to read. That’s quite a difficult skill to master.

These are the title that took my fancy from this year’s batch and the reasons why.

  • … Loves company – I thought this was a clever play on the expression ‘Misery loves Company’  and (I’m assuming) transforms it into something else entirely.
  • A Tune and a Magic Bicycle – Juxtaposition in a title always tends to make that title stronger, particularly where you mix the esoteric with the banal. I like this one
  • Away with the Fairies – Again a possible double meaning on the old expression used for people with dementia.
  • Fionn and the Banshee – Given my own special interest in the Fenian Cycle, this was always going to catch my eye. I’m intrigued to see how the author merges two such different cultural concepts.
  • Jimmy Macpherson’s Dream – On seeing this title I immediately thought of James MacPherson – a Scottish outlaw made famous by poet Robbie Burns. I have no idea if there’s a link or not.
  • Moireach – Interesting title. The word looks Irish in structure but it’s not one (a name?) I’m familiar with. Usually I run off to research the word when confronted by something like this but of course I won’t be doing this yet as I don’t want to spoil the story.
  • The Halloween Footballers – For some reason this just tickles me. I’m not quite sure why.
  • The Three Faces of Me – Again, I’ve imposed my own interpretation on this title based on my personal experience and background and have therefore assumed this has something to do with the triad system of Celtic/Gaelic belief. It’ll be interesting to see how completely wrong or right I was.

This year we ended up with a sharp decline in submissions compared to last year (from over seventy to thirty-five in this year’s slot).  I’m quite happy with this result as it means the additional clarification on criteria and entry requirements is working. Last year, we received at least 20 submissions which had absolutely nothing to do with mythology (some ghost stories, some stories vaguely related to Ireland and so on) despite the guidelines. We also received a large number of specific fantasy stories set in Ireland from authors that also seemed to have missed what we’re trying to do. It’s a bit distressing to receive these as we know people have made the effort of paying the $7 entry fee and yet they’re so completely off the mark, they can’t progress to the shortlist. This is particularly the case when you come across stories that are actually of excellent quality!

In any case, the 2017 submissions are currently undergoing an initial review to assess how many go through to the short-list. The results will be posted by the end of the month.

Thanks to all of you who’ve taken the time to submit.

 

PS: A note of apology is necessary for the delay in getting this post up. We’ve had a bit of a disastrous holiday period with yours truly managing to get himself baldy injured in a running accident and we’ve also suffered two separate IT malfunctions. Because of our regular back–up processes we haven’t lost any data but trying to find IT support to reboot our systems over the Christmas holidays (in New Zealand) has meant we’re about two weeks behind schedule. We should be back on track in the next few days.