An Irish ‘Mythology’ Test

Irish (and other) cultural stories frequently get used in advertising campaigns – particularly where the base story can be linked to an ‘Irish’-related product. A lot of the time however, those advertisements can be misrepresentative or simply get things wrong.

Take this Guinness campaign for the Guinness-sponsored All-Ireland Hurling Championship, for example. If you look closely, you’ll see that one of the three Cú Chulainn images in the advertising campaign got its sources mixed up. Can you tell which one it was?

Photo A (The Bull)

(b) Photo B (The Giant)

Photo C (The Hound)

If you can’t work it out, you’ll find the answer in the original post HERE.

Deirdre Unforgiven

I came across an interesting book – Deirdre Unforgiven – by Eamon Carr during my recent visit home. Sitting in a friend’s bookshelf, I found myself drawn to it by the bleak cover image from Irish artist John Devlin.

A brief flip through it revealed the book was a clever conflation of the ancient Irish tragedy with more contemporary ‘troubles’ in the north of Ireland covered by Eamon Carr during his time as a journalist. As a result, it’s quite powerful and evocative but it’s certainly not light reading.

Certainly interesting for those with a link to/or interest in Northern Ireland and a familiarity with the raw narrative of the original tale, it can be ordered through the usual outlets.

Cosplaying Irish History

The site of Cú Chulainn’s supposed settlement at Dún Dealgan (which actually means ‘the Dún of Dalga’) was, in far more recent times, anglicized to Dundalk. When the town opened its first museum in 1901, therefore, it’s no surprise that they harkened back to the town’s imagined history rather than its real history – which involved colonisation, land grabbing, subjugation, and was a lot less appealing – to celebrate its opening.

That opening was marked with a huge outdoor pageant with numerous people dressed up in authentic fantasy costumes of the period. To celebrate the occasion four postcards were also produced.

Outdoor pageants of this type were very popular at the time but, obviously, come 1916, people had a lot more on their mind and they fell out of fashion.

Interestingly enough, go to any ‘mythology’-related event in Ireland and it seems to have become more popular again.

No-one cares if you scream!

This is a tagline I was using recently for ‘The Great Wild’ – an unintended spin on the iconic ‘Alien’ feature film tagline (“In space, no-one one can hear you scream”). I only realised that a day or two after coming up with it.

That said, at the time, I felt my tagline worked in terms of capturing the ‘isolation’ concept of the Great Wild, as well as the callous nature of some of its inhabitants. The ‘Alien’ tagline, however, was exceptionally clever in that it also captured the whole nature of space (the vacuum meaning that you can’t, of course, physically scream).

I don’t really feel this kind of ‘market writing’ is my forte but I guess, you just do what you can and look at other talented people for inspiration.

‘Liath Luachra: The Great Wild’ is currently running at a reduced price ($2:00 instead of $4.99) but I’ll probably be going back to the original price in a few weeks.

A Moment on the Islet

There was one morning when the world dissolved, obliterated in a downpour that melted the distant islands, then the immediate surroundings as well.

Preceded by a cluster of unusually threatening, blue-bruised clouds, the incoming deluge had given plenty of warning. As a result, the girl was comfortably settled under a solitary oak at the tip of the inlet outcrop, cloak tugged tight around her shoulders as she waited to watch the clouds to unload their burden.

The downpour rattled the lake’s surface with a startling intensity that she’d never seen before, a ferocious hail that scattered white-foamed eruptions across the water around her. Mirrored by countless ripples on that shuddering surface, the resulting kaleidoscope of movement was giddyingly, but terrifyingly, beautiful.

Tethered to the island by nothing but a thin strip of rock, the girl felt a swell of panic when even that link disappeared, and her existence reduced to the tree above and three paces of the rocky outcrop. Conscious that there was nothing beyond the fusillade of rain, she was struck by a sudden, shocking sense of absence.

Terrified at the prospect of being cut adrift, she peered desperately through the deluge for any hint of physical substance, for any trace of natural solidness, for … anything.

To her trembling relief, the downpour eased soon after, and although it seemed to take far too long a time, the outline of the island took substance through the rain. Whole and expansive, the Great Mother’s bulk emerged from the surrounding murk. Slowly, ponderously, it reached across the thin strip of stone, embraced the girl in her fulsome whole and, soothingly, reassuringly, brought her home.

[Excerpt from ‘Liath Luachra: The Great Wild’, released 2023]

Raiders of the Lost Irish Crown!

I was quietly amused this week when I came across an article on Clare TD Cathal Crowe who apparently submitted a parliamentary question demanding that the Tánaiste work with the Irish Ambassador to the Holy See to ensure the (ahem) legendary crown of Brian Ború was returned.

Crowe, it seems, is a supporter of one the nuttier conspiracy theories about how Brian Ború’s ‘crown’has been hidden away in a Vatican vault – Indiana Jones style – for almost a thousand years.

According to Crowe, his request was prompted as a result of contact with a direct descendant of Brian Ború. To be honets, given the number of people supposedly descended from Brian Ború, that could have been anyone.

The thought that a rí like Brian Ború would actually bother with a crown (a Continental and British concept, never an ancient Irish one) is also quite amusing and tends to follow the fantastical thinking associated with other supposed Brian Ború relics like the Brian Ború Harp (supposedly owned by Brian Ború but not actually manufactured until 300-400 years later).

If you’re interested, you can find a link to the parliamentary question (and its response) in the comments below.

Clíodhna – hammered by waves and ‘waves’

One tale about Cliona – the female figure from Irish literary and oral tradition – tells how she ended up landing on the beach of Trá Théite (close to modern day Glandore) after fleeing from Tír Tairngire with her lover Ciabhán.

There, desperate for food, Ciabhán left her sleeping on the beach while he took the boat out and went further along the coast to catch some fish. While he was absent, a mysterious wave swept in and washed the sleeping Clíodhna away. Known as ‘Tonn Clíodhna’, this ‘wave’ is actually believed to have been some kind of waterline marker for the local shore.

Sadly, although Clíodhna has long been known to be a land goddess – a figurative representation of nature and the land – she continues to get misrepresented online, predominantly through recurring waves of a strange ‘Chinese Whispers’ style of misinformation, predominantly spread via English language ‘mythology’ sites.

Wikipedia, probably one of the major sites of such misinformation (its ‘Irish’ content is mostly entered by people who have a limited understanding of Irish language and culture) not only suggests that Clíodhna is ‘Cleena’ in English (it’s not – that sounds more like a cheap brand of manufactured tissues) but claims that she’s ‘Queen of the Banshees’.

Seriously?

A few years back, it was revealed that almost all of Wikipedia’s ‘Scottish’ language content had bene entered by an eighteen-year-old American who’d “read some books” on the subject. I think its probably safe to assume a similar standard of quality assurance has been applied for Irish cultural entries.

Cú Chulainn and Ferdia

Cú Chulainn and Ferdia in combat at Áth Fhirdia (the Ford of Ferdia).

With the intial series of FIONN mac Cumhaill coming to a close next year, I’ve been giving some thought to doing a series based on the Ulster narratives.

To be honest, I’ve still not decided. Developing a workable narrative for Cú Chulainn is no easy task and would require some serious adaptation from An Táin to make it work (unless you go down the whole Celtic Fantasy which doesn’t really interest me and which, frankly, has had its day).

We’ll see. I’ll give an update in Vóg – (my newsletter – link available in the comment below) on my thoughts around that at the end of June.

Liath Luachra – A New Project

On the work front, I’m fully occupied with an intense freelance project which means it’ll be a few more weeks before I can launch back into writing.

That’s a delay that’s always a bit frustrating but I’ve spent the few free hours I have, relaxing with a fun project I hope to bring to frution at some point in the future.

Attached is a cartoon/comic-book image of Liath Luachra associated with that.

Seven Fianna

I came across an interesting project last week by artist Zhaochen Vincent Wu (based in the States) who was working on a cross-cultural proposal merging Akira Kurosawa’s ‘Seven Samurai’ with the Fenian stories.

He explains it as follows:

“This set of design is for my project “Seven Fianna”, which is an adoption to the classic movie “Seven Samurai”. My version took place in Medieval Ireland: A Mountain Spirit robs and kills shepherds and their herds from a small village. The village lost almost all food and sacrifice to the Gods. In order to save the village, the village head hired the “Fianna” to fight for them.”

Obviously, this reveals that the artist had a very limited knowledge  or understanding of Irish culture, what a fian was, etc. etc.

I have to admit, blending themes and elements from two or more different genres can often produce some interesting work however when you attempt to do it with two different cultures, it its a whole different ‘kettle of fish’. It’s not uncommon to see such projects ending up with a complete mess of a final product.

Intriguing though the concept of a potential blend of ancient Irish culture and Japanese culture might be, the truth is that it’s actually the individual resonance and authenticity of those different cultures, that makes them interesting. Once you meld one with the other you end up with something completely different (a bit like melding colours like yellow and green to make the colour blue), The final product has no cultural integrity or authenticity and, as an  entertainment, will probably resemble a generic fantasy story at best.

That said, I could be wrong. It may be possible to create a narrative product that successfully merges two cultures.

I just haven’t come across one yet.   

Sometimes you Need a Second Blade

FIONN: The Tightening Trail‘ goes out to ‘Paid’ newsletter subscribers in the next two weeks (once the final edits are done).

This – the penultimate book in the series – will be released wide, later this year (in June or July). There’s a link to it in the comments below:

Much of the story in this work concerns a difficult and dangerous journey across the Great Wild. This time, however, having learned from previous mistakes, Liath Luachra (The Grey One) is keen to ensure she has a spare blade in her sheath. This scene outlines some of her planning with Gnathad – another warrior – in this regard.


A small lean-to shelter had been constructed just inside the treeline and when the Grey One arrived, this was occupied by the fair-haired Gnathad and her foster son, Bran. Alerted to her approach by the rustle of movement through the foliage however, both had emerged to stand waiting, javelins raised, when she stepped out of the trees to their rear.

‘Grey One,’ greeted Gnathad. She lowered her weapon to rest the haft on the ground. ‘This is a surprise.’

Bran remained silent but he dipped his head to acknowledge the woman warrior’s appearance.

Liath Luachra returned their greeting with a cursory nod of her own.

‘A word with you, Gnathad.’

She glanced at Bran and, taking the hint, the youth kissed his foster mother on the cheek and started back along the summit path. Both women watched him go, waiting in silence until the sound of his footsteps had receded.

‘You should talk to him, Grey One,’ Gnathad suggested at last. ‘Bran still bears the shame of his actions from your last excursion together.’

The woman warrior shrugged.

‘Bran remedied his errors through his deeds on the return trip to Ráth Bládhma.’

‘Then perhaps you should make that clear to him. Young people don’t always grasp the unexpressed word. Sometimes it’s best to simply say it aloud.’

Liath Luachra made no response as she glanced back along the trail. The distant sound of Bran’s movement could now barely be heard. She turned her gaze back to the Coill Mór woman.

‘I have a task for you, Gnathad.’

‘A task?’

Gnathad’s curiosity was plain to see.

‘Yes. The travel party leaves at dawn tomorrow.’

The fair-haired woman perked up at that.

‘You’d have me join the travel party? Accompany you with the techtaire?’

‘No.’

‘Oh!’

The disappointment in her voice was audible.

‘I’d have you follow us.’

Gnathad went quiet at that, watching the Grey One warily because of the initial disappointment. Over the years, she’d taken to wearing her hair in tight braids in imitation of the Grey One. Some of these thick, fair strands had worked their way loose, and now she brushed at them fretfully to clear them back from her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked at last.

‘I’d have you follow the travel party. As a hidden rearguard.’

Liath Luachra paused and turned to look out over the green stretch of the western lands, the endless serrated horizon of green treetops against the blue-grey sky. Her features retained their usual dispassion and her voice remained steady as she spoke.

‘The last time we dispatched a travel party from Glenn Ceoch, events didn’t go as planned. Tadg mac Nuadat had a force waiting beyond the Bládhma hills. They took up our trail and stalked us in stealth, eventually arranging themselves at our rear so we were driven into an ambush.’

The woman warrior turned to fix her grey eyes on the other woman.

‘That’s a snare I’d skirt on this occasion.’

Gnathad considered her words for a moment.

‘It’s unclear to me what you’re proposing. What is it you’d have me do?’

‘Before I say more, I need to know if this is a task you’d be willing to fulfil.’

The Coill Mór woman didn’t hesitate.

‘Of course, it is.’

The Grey One grunted softly in satisfaction.

‘Then, tomorrow, once the travel party’s departed, gather what supplies and weapons you need in preparation for your own departure.’

‘My own departure? We don’t leave together?’

Liath Luachra shook her head.

‘And tell no-one of your intention to leave.’

‘No-one?’

‘Not even your children.’

Gnathad frowned at that.

‘My children are old enough to lead their own lives without my interference. All the same, that won’t prevent them from worrying should I disappear without trace.’

‘Then provide them with a plausible excuse. Tell them I’ve dispatched you to seek out new hunting grounds.’

The fair-haired woman mulled on that but made no contention, apparently satisfied that such a story would put her children at their ease.

‘When you leave Glenn Ceoch, keep two day’s distance from the travel party for the first six days. Any less, and you’re unlikely to spot sign of any pursuing party. If anything, it’s more likely you’ll expose your own presence.’

She shrugged.

‘There may be no pursuit, of course, but its a precaution we must take. Should you find no trace of activity to our rear, pick up your pace on the seventh day and reduce the distance between us. But stay out of sight.’

‘You don’t want me to enter the camp?’

‘No. I bear this techtaire no level of trust. It’s best he knows nothing of your presence. If any of the others know you’re there, they could inadvertently reveal your presence despite their best efforts.’

The Grey One paused to regard her closely.

‘You will be my second blade, Gnathad. The weapon I keep sheathed unless there’s a need to draw it free.’