This is an element of a side project on the Irish Fenian narratives that I’ve been working on, on and off over the past year or so. It’s still at a conceptual level for the moment so I’m undecided as to whether I’ll commit the time needed to complete it next year.
It’s been seven years today since I published “Liath Luachra: The Swallowed” so I celebrated by creating a brief scene from the woman warrior’s adventures.
I’m still being asked when I intend to do the follow up to Liath Luachra: The Metal Men and the simple answer is “Once the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series is completed”. That’s due to the narrative overlap between the two stories that you may – or may not – have noticed.
This week I’m scoping out some of the details for the last book in the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series which is provisionally title ‘FIONN: Return to Almu’.
Cnoc Almhain (the Hill of Almu) in County Kildare was the reputed base of Fionn’s grandfather (Tadg mac Nuadat) and the area where his mother Muirne Muncháem was raised. It seemed like an apt place to bring the story of Fionn’s youthful adventures to a close.
Provisionally, I’m looking to write and release this in 2026.
At the moment, I’m working on ‘Beara 3’, ‘Irish Mythology 101’ (a non-fiction work), and another project I’m not going to make any announcements on yet.
Irish people used to be in the unique, if somewhat unenviable, position of having our cultural ‘mythology’ and history (in particular, our prehistory) regularly misrepresented in narratives by overseas entertainment interests. Fortunately, the recent shift to Scandinavian culture means that, in that respect at least, we now have some company.
It’s an interesting phenomenon but whatever story-telling entertainment medium you look at (literary, film, television, etc.), you’ll inevitably find Irish (Oirish) prehistory portrayed in there somewhere, usually inaccurately and out of context, despite the creators’ best intentions. One story-telling sector where Irish ‘mythology’/prehistory hasn’t been so poorly represented, however, is the graphic storytelling industry (comics/graphic novels/animation).
As an industry, commercially produced graphic narratives are a relatively recent innovation, commencing as an art form with comics sometime in the late 1950s. Initially sneered at as an amusement for children (which, admittedly, they did target), nowadays graphic narratives are very much an adult-targeted, multi-billion-dollar industry. Stories told in a complex melding of visual and narrative forms, when done correctly, they have the emotional punch and intellectual grunt to equal any other form of storytelling.
Historically, most of the English-speaking graphic narrative market has always been dominated by American companies, in particular the two publishing behemoths; Marvel and D.C. As a result, between the fifties and the nineties, when Irish culture or Irish stories were portrayed in this format, it was often as a means to add colour or exoticism to existing American storylines (i.e. Irish culture was incorporated into other countries’ stories as opposed to having Irish stories being produced by Irish creators). This occasionally led to some amusing unintentional cultural gaffes such as:
The graphic storytelling industry has changed dramatically over the last twenty years or so, mainly as a result of new technology that allows artist/writers to distribute their work far more widely and through a broader range of media. In the past, graphic stories could only be distributed through printed paper in the form of comic strips, comic books or individual graphic novels (and, much more rarely, in animation). Nowadays, creators can distribute their stories through a wider range of receivers outside of paper (computers/e-readers/ipads etc. but also through their own websites and internet services such as Youtube, etc.).
Ireland has its own share of graphic story creators of course but the native industry is very small by international standards. In the past, most of the graphic stories in Ireland were produced by individuals who laboriously published, printed and distributed their own work or who somehow managed to achieve that holy grail of achievement, publication by a national publisher. Other Irish creators, taking a different path, ended up working for overseas companies as illustrators or writers.
‘Mythology’ is a prehistoric framework of cultural beliefs that often contains elements of what most contemporary audiences would think of as ‘fantasy’ or ‘make believe’. This is the reason so many people mistakenly believe that ‘mythology’ and fantasy are the same thing. Graphic creators, meanwhile, driven by ambition and ability to push the boundaries, often end up creating spectacular visual works of exotic grandeur and dramatic interpretation that work very well in the fantasy genre.
This draw towards fantasy means that it’s almost a natural progression for an artist of Irish background (or for those with an interest in Irish ‘mythology’) to portray those stories in graphic style.
This is also the reason, so many graphic creators have tended to focus on tales from An Lebor Gabála Érenn and, in particular tales from the Ulster Cycle (that body of Irish mythological stories with the most fantastical elements). Generally speaking, it’s only native Irish creators who delve beyond these more well-known and well-hashed tales.
The following are probably the most famous (and most successful) representations of Irish ‘mythology’/prehistory that I’m aware of to date. No doubt, there are several that I’ve missed so feel free to correct me at info@irishimbas.com with any omissions.
Irish artist, Jim Fitzpatrick, first came to major public attention with his series Nuada of the Silver Arm, which was published in the Sunday Independent from 1974 to 1975 and featured his trademark intricate scrollwork/knotwork and fantasy-style influences. The series concerns the adventures of a character called Nuada (a Conan the Barbarian styled version of Nuada Airgetlám (Nuada Airgetlám was actually the mythological leader of the Tuatha de Danann, a character that Guillermo del Toro subsequently turned into an elf [WTF!!!?] in the film Hell Boy II). During Nuada of the Silver Arm’s run, many people complained about the strip’s fantasy style violence and scantily-clad women (this was 1970’s Ireland, remember) and it was eventually cancelled.
Undaunted, Fitzpatrick subsequently went on to publish The Book of Conquest in 1978. This wasn’t a typical graphic novel for the time but its dramatic illustrations and glorious use of colour meant it was a major inspiration for any subsequent graphic representation of prehistoric Ireland from that point forward.
Created by British writer Pat Mills, Sláine was one of the titles published in the ground-breaking British comic, 2000 AD. This series (running in different forms from the eighties up to a few years ago) concerns the adventures of an Irish warrior called Sláine mac Roth. Like Fitzpatrick’s Nuadu, this series is very much a mish-mash of Conan the Barbarian-style fantasy and the more fantastical elements of An Lebor Gabála Érenn. A kind of prehistory anti-hero, Sláine is directly modelled on the mythological hero Cú Chulainn in that he has a spear called An Gae Bolga and the unfortunate habit of breaking into An ríastrad (a berserker-like combat frenzy) during battle. Sláine is probably one of the longest enduring graphic representations of Irish ‘mythology’/prehistory and although the core story remains consistent, the visual representation varies dramatically depending on the artist used.
Colmán Ó Raghallaigh, an award-winning Irish author was the first person to produce and publish a graphic novel in Ireland (through his own publishing house, Cló Mhaigh Eo). An Sclábhaí/ The Slave – told the story of a young St. Patrick and won several awards but Ó Raghallaigh subsequently followed that up with a number of other gorgeous graphic novel adaptations of Irish ‘mythology’ (in Irish) that included:
The Táin Bó Cúailnge, unsurprisingly, also turns up in a number of other innovative graphic stories, all offering very different renditions of the epic tale.
Belfast illustrator Paddy Brown serialised his epic webcomic The Cattle Raid of Cooley on his own website from 2008 to 2015 (winning Best Irish Webcomic in 2011) and it really is an exceptional feat. Brown’s version of the story is realistic, extremely well researched and avoids all the fantasy clichés by focussing on the characters and their motivations, effectively capturing the violent reality of inter-tribal warfare and feuds.
M.K. Reed’s webcomic About a Bull took a much more ‘cartoon’ approach to An Táin, through the use of more simplistic drawings, bright watercolors and humour. Although she tells the same story that many others have done before her, she does so from the perspective of Meabh Leathdearg (usually portrayed as the villainess of the piece). Her version cleverly incorporates the remscéla (the side stories or set-up stories to the core narrative) through the use of guest artists who offer a very different visual interpretation. Stylistically, this creates a somewhat inconsistent approach to the story that could be considered jarring, however, in the context, it’s effective. Sadly, the online story stopped in 2012 and doesn’t seem to have continued since.
Cork artist Will Sliney’s The Legend of Cú Chulainn was a graphic novel published by The O’Brien Press in 2013 and it remained high in the Irish Times bestseller list for a time. For his adaptation, Sliney used a very “heroic-fantasy” style and also changed a few core elements of the story such as the character of Meadhbh Leathdearg. Sliney’s illustrations display the influence of working for American comics but there’s no denying his storytelling talent.
This one scrapes in as there’s limited representation of Irish ‘mythology’ and prehistory and most of the story is set in 20th century Dublin. Nevertheless, it deserves inclusion. Written by Rob Curley and drawn by Barry Keegan, The League Of Volunteers is set during the Irish Emergency (the period just after Ireland became a Republic) and concerns a group of contemporary and mythological Irish heroes assembled by De Valera to protect the country against the threat of Nazi enemies (and a demon called Bocanach). The Volunteers include ‘The Glimmerman’ (an anti-Nazi street fighter), a human/demon called Blood Rose, Fionn mac Cumhaill, Lúgh Lamhfada from the Tuatha Dé Danann etc. etc.
This series is very much based on the American comic staple of superhero team ups (where a team of superheroes join forces to confront some great challenge) along the lines of The Avengers or Alan Moore’s ‘League of Extraordinary Gentlemen’, but then twists that model and adapts it to an Irish setting. In that regard, you’ve really got to admire its sheer ballsiness and ambition.
Irish artist/writer Leann Hamilton is one of the few people in the Irish graphic storytelling industry (with the possible exception of Ó Raghallaigh and Curley) to venture into mythological ground outside the well-trampled stories of the An Lebor Gabála Érenn and The Ulster Cycle (in this case, delving into the Fenian stories instead). Initially self-published by Hamilton in 2010, Finn and Fish is a contemporary and more humorous retelling of the old Salmon of Knowledge tale. It won several awards in 2013 and 2014.
The Cartoon Saloon is an Irish animation film and television studio based in Kilkenny which has been producing short films, cartoon series and other services since it was first set up by Paul Young, Tomm Moore and Nora Twomey in 1999. It’s probably best known however, for the beautifully animated feature films, the Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea, both of which incorporate strong elements of Irish ‘mythology’ and history with innovative design and storytelling.
Cú/Hound – Protector/Liberator /Defender are a trilogy of graphic novels created and drawn by Paul Bolger and co-written by Barry Devlin. One could yawn and say this is just another adaptation of the Ulster Cycle/Cú Chulainn, but what sets Cú apart from its predecessors is the sheer scale of ambition in terms of the artistry and the fact that it’s development was funded directly (through Kickstarter). Cú/Hound – Protector, the first in the series focuses on Cú Chulainn’s childhood and his travels to Skye to train with the woman warrior, Scatach. All three novels are beautifully illustrated in black and white but make dramatic use of red on occasion. Cú is also an excellent example of how much graphic storytelling has changed over the years in that the writers are also attempting to crowdfund for a movie version of the original graphic novels.
Given the above examples, it does seems as though Irish mythological and prehistory stories are more effectively represented in the graphic storytelling sector and it’s easy to see why. Mythological stories lend themselves extremely well to transmission through graphic media.
In addition, with recent technology, innovative Irish graphic creators are obtaining greater independent access to markets through their own webcomics, website sales or crowd funding. By consequence, this has also led to far more Irish creators producing their own adaptations of Irish mythological stories, thereby avoiding the fantasy excesses that occasionally result when such stories are told by people who aren’t genuinely familiar with Irish culture.
Either way, it continues to be an innovative and exciting sector to watch.
Note: If there are any Irish graphic creators of Irish ‘mythology’ and prehistory-related stories out there who’d like some reviews/exposure through Irish Imbas please feel free to email us at info@irishimbas.com. We’d be happy to help where we can.
A selection of some of the images I used while writing the character Liath Luachra in ‘Liath Luachra: The Great Wild.’
This particular set from Spanish artist/photographer Lídia Vives was very helpful in that it really captured the savage/feral aspect of the character and it was a good baseline to fall back on whenever I felt I was veering off the ‘character path’.
I’ll be using these for the a follow-up book called Liath Luachra: The Quiet One sometime in 2026.
‘Land of the Ever Young’, a depiction of Tír na nÓg by the English book illustrator Arthur Rackham (from back in 1920).
Rackham was an excellent artist and simply following the terms of reference he was given, but his anglicized, ‘fantasy-type’ representations of Irish culture set a detrimentally false ‘look’ and narrative that we’re still trying to deal with, a hundred years later.
I released a book today (‘FIONN: The Betrayal’) that provides a more authentic version of the Irish mythological hero’s life and adventures. Its currently available in Australiana and New Zealand ebook stores but as the sun moves across the earth, it’ll be released in other jurisdictions as well.
The second-last book in the series, this work brings different plot threads together to expose the key elements behind this mythological story to the full light of day. The truth behind the death of Fionn’s father is explained, Fionn’s heritage is explained, and the traitor undermining the young warrior over the course of his life, is also finally revealed.
All in a maelstrom of violence and political intrigue.
I originally started the FIONN mac Cumhaill Series back in 2014 as a kind of antidote to counter the ‘Celtic Fantasy’ genre’s commercial misrepresentation of Irish history culture. The series includes elements of the Irish language and reintroduces critical Gaelic cultural concepts lost over the course of time. To be honest, given the very strong Gaelic elements, I never really expected it to become as popular as it was.
Thanks to those of you who’ve helped support this work over the last ten years.
The woman warrior Liath Luachra (The Grey One) has never been the easiest person to talk to which means that her interactions with someone as bullish as Crimall (a Clann Baoisnce warrior) often provides some good opportunity for writing dialogue.
In ‘Liath Luachra: The Seeking’, this opportunity is heightened further when Crimall has suspicions around her motives and the woman warrior has secrets of her own she’d rather not talk about.
————————–
‘When we first crossed paths,’ said Crimall. ‘You spoke of your encounter with the díbhearg, of your attempts to release the Clann Baoiscne girls and of the raiders untimely return.’
Liath Luachra eyed him coldly.
‘Yes.’
‘And of killing one raider during your escape.’
Deciding there was nothing worthwhile to say, Liath Luachra said nothing.
‘I have a wrinkle in my head, Grey One. A crease of curiosity that allows me no ease. Perhaps you could smoothen that wrinkle out by satisfying my curiosity.’
‘What is it you wish to know?’
Crimall cleared his throat, briefly adjusting the sword belt around his waist. ‘During your flight from the díbhearg, did any of the raiders speak or shout?’
Liath Luachra felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a simple enough question. Did the raiders say anything of relevance: a name, a destination, some indication of their origin?’
She shook her head.
‘You have no doubts?’ he persisted, regarding her with an expression of mild disbelief. ‘Amid all that bustle and violent activity, the raiders didn’t utter the merest whisper!’
This time, the woman warrior responded with a sour expression. ‘I’ve already told you what I know. The díbhearg warriors barely spoke.’
‘Aaah!’ Crimall exclaimed, grasping onto her words like a drowning man to flotsam. ‘You say they “barely” spoke, which suggests they must have said something, no matter how trivial. What exactly did they say?’
Liath Luachra lips compressed in anger. ‘The only one who spoke was the man I killed, and in truth I heard but a single word. One that, given the events, was difficult to decipher.’
‘Yes, yes. But what was it?’
The woman warrior regarded him coolly then abruptly dropped her head to one-side and opened her mouth, her tongue lolling out.
‘Aaarrgh.’
Straightening her head again, she regarded the Clann Baoiscne man with stony dispassion.
Crimall considered her in frosty silence for the space of several heartbeats. ‘We’ll depart when you give the word,’ he said at last and stiffly walked away.
Generally speaking, Irish cultural stories and ‘mythology’ get bastardized when represented in creative projects produced by overseas interests.
The trailer dates from 2005 and refers to a film called ‘Finn mac Cool’ (Ouch! Brutal anglicization of the name and not a good start for cultural authenticity). It is, in fact, a promotional piece for a film that was never actually made. This happens sometimes when a movie’s being proposed and talked-up, but the producers haven’t been able to raise the funding to complete it.
Either way, though, you have to give the producers credit for using Irish actors (or at least someone who can successfully put on an Irish accent – not looking at you, Tom Cruise and Christopher Walken!)
The ‘trailer’ is very much a product of its time and reflects the difficulty in adapting an Irish cultural narrative for an international audience. It can be done of course, but to have any long-term resonance or credibility beyond the initial marketing hype/push, it really needs to stay true to the cultural origin and the source material. For that reason, when producers are looking at adapting a ‘mythological’ story, they really have to decide early on which way they’re going to jump. This was very much something I came up against when I was providing cultural/technical advice for one of my own books being adapted by Hollywood.
The approach used in the promotional trailer, very much reflects an English or American person’s interpretation of what such a film should look like (as opposed to how a native Irish person might view/ produce it). The ‘trailer’ has some pretty dodgy bits that I’ve actually grown fond of (the pirouette deaths, Ming the Merciless as Goll mac Morna – from Dublin apparently, given the accent, the dodgy giant etc.) and, over the years, I’ve increasingly come to respect the producers for trying to make a Fenian narrative-based movie at a time when getting such funding really was an uphill battle.
I’m pretty sure a screen production of an ‘Irish mythology’ story will eventually become a reality but it’ll be interesting to see whether it’s a culturally resonant Irish version or an American Celtic Fantasy version. I guess time will tell.
Meanwhile, have a look at the trailer HERE.
We’re back in the office this last day or two and, in between writing FIONN 6, I’ve done a small piece on ‘Beacáin Scammalach’ – Cloud Mushroom – you’ll know what that is if you’ve read any of the ‘Liath Luachra’ books.
This article looks at why Liath Luachra uses it, why I’ve included it in the books, and what overall relevance it has. I’ll be making that available for key followers in the next edition of the newsletter. You can find a link to that HERE.
Well, its that time of the year when we can finally finish up and walk away from the desk, hopefully not to return until the new year.
On a personal level, I’ll be glad to see the back of 2024 but, as usual, I remain hopeful for next year.
This Christmas, to celebrate another year of publishing, I’m significantly reducing the price of Book 1 and Book 2 of the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series (now selling at $0.99 and $2.99 respectively). These will be available through all the major bookstores and you can find the links below.
The books will remain at this price until 3 January 2025, when they’ll return to full price (and when I return to the desk).
Thanks to all of you who’ve supported my work over the past year. I wish you and your families a peaceful holiday season.
Brian
KINDLE: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00IIXHX88
KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/…/fionn-defence-of-rath-bladhma-1
APPLE: https://books.apple.com/…/fionn-defence-of…/id840271574
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/…/fionn…/1118904278…
GOOGLE: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=XnBjDwAAQBAJ
[Paperback available through Amazon or all good bookshops.]
In the ‘Fionn mac Cumhaill Series’ of books, there’s little love lost between the woman warrior Liath Luachra and Muirne Muncháem, mother of Fionn mac Cumhaill. This little scene from FIONN: The Adversary demonstrates how they have to work to get along to survive the hazards of the Great Wild.
On the southern bank of the river, the warrior Liath Luachra sat contemplating her reflection. The still pool, located to the side of a slow-flowing inlet, mirrored her haggard expression with unsettling accuracy. Her face was gaunt, her eyes framed by black rings, the high cheekbones sharpened by the shaded hollows beneath. The physical evidence from the toll of days of hard running and combat was impossible to ignore. Of more concern however was the worrying sense her internal resilience had also diminished, withered not only by the gruelling journey but the loss of Bodhmhall and Demne.
Her eyes turned to regard the coursing river with a mixture of bitterness and trepidation. A fast-flowing stretch of surging white water, just the sight of it was still enough to make her shiver. Less than a day earlier, she’d barely managed to crawl from its liquid grasp, half-drowned and at the limit of her endurance. Stretched exhausted on the sandy bank, she’d wanted nothing more than to lie there and sleep. Instead, she’d somehow forced herself to her feet and stumbled downriver, combing the bank for Bodhmhall and her nephew.
Several hundred paces later, numb with fatigue, she’d crawled into a cluster of fern inside the treeline, curled into a damp ball and promptly passed out. Later that afternoon, when she’d come to her senses, she felt stiff and cold and far from recovered. Staring up at patches of sky through the breaks in the forest canopy, she could tell from the grey quality of the light that nightfall was closing in. Despite feeling every bruise, every individual cut, scratch and strained muscle, she’d pushed herself off the ground and started searching again.
By the time dusk seeped in, she’d still found no sign of Bodhmhall or Demne although she did locate Muirne Muncháem and Gleor Red Hand. The Lamraighe couple had washed up together on a short mud flat over a thousand paces downriver from where she’d collapsed. Despite the gentle incline up to more solid ground however, they hadn’t progressed beyond the water’s edge.
Gleor, unconscious, had an ashen pallor that matched the hue of his greying beard. The Lamraighe leader’s face bore numerous cuts and bruises and she could see washed out bloodstains on his tunic, although she was unable to tell if they were his.
Muirne – the Flower of Almhu – normally a woman obsessed with her appearance, was sitting dismally in the mud beside him, caked in sludge and filth. Marks in the surface of the mud bank revealed how her attempts to shift her husband towards the bank had been stymied by the stocky weight of his body.
The two women had stared bleakly at one other for several heartbeats, their expressions lacking any warmth. Without a word, the Grey One had abruptly turned her gaze away and started off downriver. Muirne’s despairing pleas had trailed her until, finally, she’d halted and turned sharply to retrace her steps.
Cursing under her breath, she’d helped the Flower of Almhu drag the insensible Gleor up onto the bank and into a small clearing several paces inside the trees. Using her sword – miraculously, still in its scabbard – Liath Luachra had cut some saplings and constructed a rough lean-to in which they’d placed the comatose old man.
Not a single word was exchanged over the entire period the two women worked together. Holding the Lamraighe couple responsible for their predicament, Liath Luachra bore no love for either of them and knew the feeling was mutual. Despite this, when the shelter was complete, she’d crawled inside to sleep beside them, too tired to question why she’d returned to help them.
Too tired to do anything but sleep.
